The throne room of the Man Beast castle was thick with tension, the air crackling with suppressed fury. Giret sat upon his obsidian throne, his massive frame radiating an aura of barely restrained violence. His clawed fingers dug into the armrests, leaving deep gouges in the stone. Before him, Tac and Pengo knelt—one battered and bleeding, the other missing an arm, their heads bowed in shame.
"Explain." Giret's voice was a low, guttural growl, the kind that made even his generals flinch.
Tac swallowed hard, his throat dry. "My Lord, the boy—Akihiro—was not what we anticipated. He… he wielded power beyond human limits. A god's power."
Pengo, trembling, added, "He moved like lightning, healed instantly, and his attacks—they tore through us like we were nothing. And then… there was another presence inside him. A voice, a force. It spoke through him."
