I—Arche—was running alongside my friend Zack, both of us weary as we searched for the next staircase.
"Two more floors..." I muttered under my breath. We'd been dashing from level to level for what felt like hours, and my legs were starting to feel like jelly.
"Cheer up, Arche," Zack said, giving me a firm pat on the shoulder. "This is exactly why I told you to eat a heavy lunch."
"Yeah, and now I feel like throwing it all back up," I groaned, clutching my stomach.
Zack chuckled at my misery—but then, a loud sound echoed through the air.
Gunshots.
Without thinking, I tilted my head to the side. The bullet whizzed past my cheek, close enough to feel the air split.
"Well, well! What incredible reflexes!" a girl's voice rang out from behind us-playful, amused... and all too cheerful for someone who'd just tried to kill us.
"Senior! You're seriously amazing!" she called.
Zack and I spun around instantly. There, standing casually in the corridor, was a girl in a crimson robe.
The oversized hood draped over her head, shadowing her face—until she pulled it back.
Blonde hair tumbled out, shining under the flickering ceiling lights.
Crimson eyes gleamed with mischief. And perched on her lips was a wide, confident grin.
"Hello, everyone! My name is Cerise!" she announced brightly.
The moment that name left her lips, both Zack and I froze.
Cerise.
The girl Lycaon had told us about. The one who murdered his son.
"Or! Senior, if you want to feel closer to me, you can just call me Zero—Five!" Cerise chirped, her voice bursting with enthusiasm.
"After all, we—Master Valtherion's disciples—are like family!"
She clapped her hands together, eyes sparkling. "Oh! Does that mean I should call you 'big bro'?" she asked, tilting her head with a sunny smile.
"...She's so damn fussy," I muttered, rubbing my temple in annoyance.
Beside me, Ryoma placed a calm hand on my shoulder and gave a slight smile. "Trust me, Arche. That's exactly what everyone thinks when they first meet you."
I couldn't even argue with that.
Still, there was a more pressing matter than her chatter—the fact that the girl standing in front of us was casually wielding shotgun like they were hair dryers.
I let out a sigh. She definitely wanted to fight me.
...Well, I wanted to fight her too.
"Zack, step back," I said firmly.
He didn't argue. "Yeah, she's totally your kind of enemy." He took a few steps back, already grinning.
"You're a very understanding friend, huh?" Cerise commented. "I wish I had a friend like you. That'd be fun."
Her smile widened, too bright for someone preparing to kill. "You're lucky, aren't you, Senior?"
"Are you done rambling yet?" I asked, tightening my grip on my blades. "Because I'm honestly tired of hearing your voice."
Cerise's grin sharpened. "Heh. Fine by me. I've been looking forward to this too!"
I raised both blades—sleek, curved, deadly. My fingers tightened around the hilts.
Blade of Vengeance. That was the name I'd given them—just earlier, while chatting with Arthur about sword names.
It had a nice ring to it. Fitting, somehow.
I glanced back. Zack stood with his arms folded, watching quietly from behind. No words, no hesitation—just silent support.
Then I turned to face Cerise.
Her ruby—red eyes met mine—green against crimson, calm against chaos.
Cerise charged at me first, her shotgun already aimed and firing without hesitation.
I twisted my body, narrowly dodging the blast as the thunderous shot echoed through the air.
Without wasting a second, I surged forward.
My right blade slashed in a swift arc toward her, but she ducked low with impressive agility, the steel just grazing above her head. In one seamless motion, she fired again.
I spun mid-air, letting the shot scream past my side, close enough to feel the heat.
"Not bad," I muttered under my breath.
As I landed just a breath away from her, I thrust my blade straight toward her abdomen.
But Cerise leapt back with a springy recoil, landing with a playful grin.
"Woah! That was close! You're really cool, senior!" Her eyes gleamed with excitement, more fired up than before.
Before I could reply, she dashed at me again—fast. I sidestepped just slightly, pivoted, and drove my elbow down onto the top of her head.
"Gah! Oww!" she yelped, her shotgun clattering to the ground as she clutched her head. "That actually hurt, you know!"
For a moment, she looked like a normal, pouty, cute girl. But I didn't let my guard down.
I knew her rhythm, her tricks. Just as expected, she dove for her shotgun and aimed it right back at me.
But my hand was faster. I grabbed the fore-end of the shotgun and shoved the barrel upward, locking eyes with her.
"You do realize we were trained by the same teacher, right?"
Cerise gave a sheepish grin. "Heh... Yeah, good point."
Suddenly, the ground trembled beneath our feet. A deep, guttural roar echoed through the corridor.
I instinctively stepped forward, lowering my blades.
Cerise had stumbled slightly from the vibration, and I caught her by the wrist, pulling her back to her feet. "Careful."
She dusted off her robe, then gave me a sheepish grin. "Uh... Are you hungry, Senior?"
I raised a brow. "That wasn't my stomach. Probably yours."
"No way! I had a big lunch!" she protested, puffing her cheeks.
"Zack?" I turned toward him.
"Same as you. I stuffed myself on the way here," he said with a shrug.
"Then who—?"
Before we could finish the thought, a shadow loomed behind us. All three of us turned.
A massive werewolf was lumbering toward us on all fours, each step rumbling through the cracked tiles.
Its fur glinted in the flickering lights, and its eyes burned with primal hunger.
"...Makes sense," Zack muttered casually.
"He's after you, Cerise," I said, sheathing my dual blades.
Cerise tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable.
Then, slowly, she stepped beside me and looked straight ahead. "Well, I always wanted to fight you at least once."
She extended her hand toward me.
I hesitated for a moment—then took it, gripping it tightly.
"And now," she said, smiling gently, "it finally came true."
We held that handshake a second longer than necessary—like two childhood friends playing heroes and villains for the last time.
"After I beat him," she continued, "we're doing a rematch, got it?"
I let go of her hand and gave her a small smirk. "Of course. If you're still breathing by then."
She winked. "You better not cry if I win next time, Senior."
"Please, I'm the one carrying your dramatic death monologue."
"Hehe... Bye, Arche."
Cerise grinned—softly, innocently—like a child saying goodbye after a day of play.
In that moment, under the dim corridor lights and the smell of gunpowder, she didn't look like an enemy.
She looked like a little sister waving farewell.
"Bye, Cerise." My voice barely left my throat.
Then it happened.
"SHE'S MY PREY!!"
Lycaon's furious roar exploded down the hall.
Cerise moved without fear. She raised her shotgun, aimed at the tall arched window at the end of the corridor, and fired.
The stained glass shattered into a thousand shards of crimson and gold-raining like confetti in the dying light.
And she jumped.
No hesitation. No second glance.
Straight into the void.
But then Lycaon was gone too-his massive frame crashing through the broken window like a beast in full charge.
The corridor fell silent.
Only the echoes of glass and wind remained.
Zack and I stood there, frozen in place.
He exhaled sharply. "...Lycaon has a teleportation gem. Even if it's just one, it'll land him safely."
Then he glanced at me. "But your junior—"
I reached into my pocket.
My fingers closed around cold crystal.
I pulled them out.
Nine.
Zack stared. "Wait... You brought ten, right? And you haven't used a single one yet..."
His voice faded, the realization setting in.
He didn't say it.
He didn't have to.
"...I don't know when she took it," I said quietly, letting the gems fall back into my pocket. "But... damn it, she's clever. I'll give her that. A proud junior."
Zack narrowed his eyes. "You do remember she's on the other side, right?"
I smiled bitterly. "I remember everything."
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then I turned.
"We keep moving."
Zack gave a nod, and together, we ran—toward the stairs, toward the unknown, toward whatever came next.
But even as my feet pounded the stone, my thoughts stayed behind.
Somewhere below, a red-eyed girl was falling through broken glass.
Then—crack—the teleportation gem in her hand shattered.
In a blink, her descent slowed, and she touched down on the forest floor without so much as a scratch.
She didn't stop.
Her boots hit the ground running—straight into the shadows of the forest.
A moment later, Lycaon crashed down from the sky like a meteor of muscle and fury.
He, too, shattered his gem mid-air and landed in a shockwave of dirt and splintered roots. Trees quaked. Birds scattered.
His glowing eyes scanned the dark woods.
Only trees. Only silence.
Then—
"YOU KILLED MY SON!!" The roar tore through the forest like thunder.
A voice answered.
"Well... because I hate monsters."
It was light. Taunting. Mocking.
A girl's voice, from behind a tree.
Lycaon snarled. He lunged at the tree and yanked it from the earth with terrifying ease-roots and all-only to find nothing behind it.
"RAAHH!!"
He swung the tree in his hand like a club, smashing it into another, sending bark and branches flying.
"Monsters like you..." The voice came again, now from behind him.
"...shouldn't exist in this world."
"You terrify the innocent. You devour peace."
Lycaon whirled and brought down another tree with a furious swipe-again, no one there.
"Where are you, you cowardly brat?!"
His roar shook the leaves from their branches.
Then—Bang.
A single shot.
A silver bullet tore through the air and slammed into his back.
Blood sprayed.
But Lycaon didn't flinch.
Didn't even grunt.
He simply turned, slowly.
"You'll need more than that to kill me."
Lycaon hurled the massive tree toward Cerise with terrifying force—but she sidestepped it with effortless grace, the trunk crashing into the earth behind her in an explosion of mud and splinters.
Rain poured relentlessly from the heavens, turning the battlefield into a slick, muddy mess.
Cerise glanced down at her boots, a hint of annoyance flashing across her face.
"You're going to ruin my outfit," she muttered, pulling up her crimson hood with a flourish.
Without hesitation, she raised her shotgun and fired. The blast echoed like thunder, but Lycaon twisted his body, dodging with inhuman agility.
The werewolf snarled, crimson eyes glowing with primal fury as they locked onto her.
His breath came in steaming huffs, his hulking form tensed to strike.
Cerise didn't stop—bang, bang, bang—each shot whizzing past as Lycaon weaved through them like a phantom.
Then came the final shot. He raised his palm to block it.
The blast struck.
Flesh tore. Blood sprayed.
A hole had been blown clean through his palm.
Cerise tilted her head, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Big muscles, small brain, huh?" she taunted.
Lycaon growled low, chest heaving, and then roared with fury.
He lunged at her in a whirlwind of claws and rage, slashing wildly—but Cerise danced around every strike like a shadow given form.
"You know, you hairy beast," Cerise said coolly, flipping a shell into her shotgun,
"I'm faster than Arche." Her eyes gleamed under her hood. "As long as I keep moving, you'll never lay a claw on this perfect skin.
Lycaon roared, a deafening, primal bellow—and his body began to change.
Muscles bulged, bones cracked and expanded, and fur bristled as his form grew monstrous.
From behind the cover of a tree, Cerise took a cautious step back, watching with wide eyes as the transformation unfolded before her.
He now towered above her-three times her height, a hulking mass of fangs, fury, and raw power.
"Whoa... he's gotten bigger," she muttered with a dry chuckle.
"A clever little girl versus a giant werewolf? Doesn't that feel just a bit unfair?"
She tilted her head as Lycaon let out another bloodcurdling roar.
Cerise grimaced. "Ugh. You've roared, like, a thousand times already."
"Hasn't anyone ever told you how bad your breath is?" She sighed. "No? Well, lucky you—I'll be the first."
She raised her shotgun, aiming it squarely at him.
"Your breath stinks, you mangy bastard!"
She pulled the trigger.
The shotgun blast slammed into Lycaon's chest. Smoke and sparks burst from the impact-but the beast didn't even flinch.
Cerise narrowed her eyes. "Tough bastard, aren't you?"
Then she noticed something horrifying—his wounded hand, the one she had blown a hole through earlier, was already beginning to close.
Flesh knit together, bone reformed, and within seconds, it was as if the injury had never happened.
"...What kind of regeneration is that?" Cerise muttered in disbelief, frustration lacing her voice.
She exhaled, tightening her grip on the shotgun. "This just got way more annoying."
With a monstrous growl, Lycaon swung his massive hand toward Cerise, aiming to crush her like an insect—but the thick forest worked against him.
Trees tangled around his limbs, blocking his reach and frustrating his advance.
Snarling in fury, he began tearing them apart—one by one—ripping through ancient trunks like paper.
The sound of splintering wood echoed like thunder as the forest itself was thrown into chaos.
Leaves scattered. Branches crashed to the ground. A once—tranquil glade turned into a warzone of shattered bark and rising mist.
When the destruction settled, the great werewolf stood amidst a graveyard of trees, chest heaving, eyes glowing with rage. But Cerise was nowhere in sight.
"Where are you hiding, you little brat?!" Lycaon bellowed, his voice shaking the trees still standing.
Unbeknownst to him, Cerise was crouched low behind one of the few remaining tree trunks, her breath shallow, her mind racing.
Her eyes locked onto the towering beast. She knew brute force wouldn't be enough. She needed precision-and pain.
With a practiced hand, she slid out her regular shells and loaded a special round-one she'd been saving for something just like this.
The casing shimmered faintly in the low light, its design wicked, its payload far more lethal than anything she'd fired before.
Cerise exhaled slowly, steeling herself.
And then she ran.
Lycaon spotted her in an instant, his snarl widening into a cruel grin. He raised his fist, thick as a tree trunk, and brought it down like a meteor.
The earth trembled as it struck.
But Cerise was already gone, slipping past the blow with razor-sharp reflexes.
The impact exploded into the ground, launching mud and dirt into the air-some of it splattering onto her crimson cloak.
"You're gonna have to wash that for me later, y'know!" she shouted, voice cutting through the storm.
And then—boom.
She fired.
The special round slammed into Lycaon's arm with a devastating crack.
A burst of black smoke erupted from the point of impact, and the werewolf howled-this time not in rage, but agony.
He recoiled, clutching his arm, eyes burning with fury and pain.
Cerise smirked, smoke curling from her shotgun's barrel. "Finally got your attention, big guy."
Without hesitation, Cerise took aim and fired straight into Lycaon's tibia.
BANG!
The shot tore through his leg, and the beast let out a thunderous growl as his massive body buckled—dropping to one knee with a ground—shaking thud.
His sheer size was a curse now; strength without speed was nothing against someone like her.
Seizing the opening, Cerise darted forward, a flash of red in the storm.
In one swift motion, she pulled a grenade from her belt and hurled it straight into his snarling face.
BOOM!
The explosion lit up the rain-soaked forest, and Lycaon was hurled backward, crashing to the ground like a fallen titan. Smoke and blood filled the air.
Cerise didn't waste a second.
She leapt onto his chest and climbed atop the beast, shotgun raised high. Her boots dug into his fur as she aimed down at his left eye.
BOOM.
A burst of gore and flame erupted as the shell connected. Lycaon's scream ripped through the forest like a wounded god's roar, and with a burst of frenzied strength, he lunged up from the earth.
Cerise was thrown off, but she landed cleanly, skidding back. Her eyes locked with his.
He was unhinged now—unstoppable, blind with rage. His breaths were ragged, his body trembling. He lashed out wildly, both clawed hands swiping at the air, trying to catch her.
But Cerise was too fast.
She danced around him like lightning, untouchable.
"BASTARD!!" Lycaon roared, leaping into the air and slamming back down with a quake—inducing crash.
BOOOOM.
The impact shook the ground violently. Trees trembled. Mud flew. Cerise stumbled from the shockwave, nearly losing her footing—but she caught herself, grabbing onto a nearby tree.
"Tch... you're really trying to flatten me now, huh?" she muttered under her breath, eyes sharp.
She turned and sprinted deeper into the forest, her red hood trailing behind her like a flare in the dark.
And the beast followed.
Lycaon charged after her, plowing through trees like they were nothing. Bark exploded. Branches shattered. The forest howled in pain beneath his fury.
Cerise's eyes darted ahead—there it was. A rickety rope bridge stretched across a yawning chasm, swaying wildly in the storm, barely holding itself together.
No time to hesitate.
She sprinted onto the creaking planks, the wind howling around her as boards snapped beneath her feet.
Every step was a gamble, but she didn't slow down. She made it across just as the final ropes began to fray.
She turned back just in time to see Lycaon charging toward the bridge.
The massive werewolf stepped onto it—crack—and that was all it took. The fragile wood and rope gave way beneath his weight, and with a thunderous roar, he plummeted into the abyss.
Cerise exhaled, a smug smile tugging at her lips. "Guess gravity's still on my side."
She turned to look for a fallen tree, already planning to make a makeshift bridge. "Alright. Time to bring down a tree or two..."
But then she heard it.
A low, guttural growl—followed by the scrape of claws on stone.
Her eyes widened as she spun around.
From the edge of the cliff, Lycaon's clawed hands emerged. With terrifying strength, he pulled himself up the vertical wall—and leapt.
He landed hard on the edge—but the unstable cliff cracked beneath him. The ground collapsed, and Lycaon fell a second time into the darkness below.
Cerise blinked. "...Well, that was anticlimactic."
But before she could even think of walking away, he climbed again—slower this time, deliberate. His claws sank into the rock, his movements focused.
And then, with a final heave, he emerged once more, towering above the edge.
This time, his landing was firm. Silent. Steady. Two glowing red eyes locked with hers.
Cerise sighed, leveling her shotgun. "You know... maybe someone should tell you this isn't a fantasy novel. Not everything cool in fiction works in real life."
Lycaon lunged forward, a blur of primal fury, charging straight at Cerise.
His massive claws swiped at her—but at the very last second, she leapt into the air, landing deftly on his outstretched arm.
Without wasting a moment, Cerise slammed the stock of her shotgun into the werewolf's skull.
Lycaon snarled, a low, guttural growl rumbling from deep within his chest.
She flipped backward midair, landing in a crouch, and fired. Lycaon twisted to evade, his body slamming into the ground with such force that the earth quaked beneath them.
The tremor threw Cerise off balance. She stumbled, falling to one knee.
As she looked up, breath caught in her throat—Lycaon was already mid-leap, claws ready to tear her apart.
In a split-second decision, Cerise off balance. She stumbled, falling to one knee.
As she looked up, breath caught in her throat—Lycaon was already mid-leap, claws ready to tear her apart.
In a split-second decision, Cerise slid between his legs, the tips of his claws grazing her shoulder.
Spinning behind him, she pulled the trigger again. Another angry roar—she'd hit him.
Snarling in rage, Lycaon grabbed a massive boulder and hurled it straight at her.
Cerise dodged with a narrow twist-but the moment she turned her eyes forward, a fist was already waiting.
The punch landed square in her gut, launching her backward.
She flew through the air—right toward the edge of a yawning chasm.
Her hands clawed desperately at the cliff's edge, just managing to catch hold before the fall could claim her.
Panting, she glanced up—Lycaon was coming.
With every ounce of strength left in her body, Cerise pulled herself up and leapt. She soared through the air, passing above him in a blur of motion.
Her boots skidded across the dirt as she landed. Gasping for air, sweat dripping from her brow, she hissed through gritted teeth.
"Damn it..." the small girl muttered, defiant even in exhaustion.
Then Cerise noticed something strange about Lycaon. Her brows furrowed.
"Hm? What's wrong with you? Caught a chill or something? I mean, this storm wind is pretty brutal," she quipped, trying to keep the mood light—but her tone faltered as the creature began to change.
Lycaon's body started to grow, muscles bulging unnaturally, fur bristling like razors.
"What the hell...?" Cerise whispered, eyes widening.
She leapt backward, seeking cover behind a thick tree trunk, peering from the shadows as Lycaon's transformation accelerated.
He towered upward-five meters tall now, if not more—his silhouette monstrous under the flashes of lightning.
The storm howled. Rain slashed sideways through the forest, tearing at Cerise's soaked cloak.
Blood still stained her cheek, unmoved by the downpour, a brutal reminder of how close she'd already come to death.
She stepped out from her hiding place, face shadowed beneath her hood—though the wind tried to rip it away. Her gaze locked on the towering beast.
Lycaon raised his snout to the sky and howled—an earthshaking sound that echoed through the trees like a death omen.
Cerise smirked. "Heh. You sure I'm the bad guy here?"
They stood still for a beat too long, locked in a silent standoff—one hunter, one monster.
Then, with no warning, Cerise bolted into the forest, away from the cliff's edge. She didn't need to look back to know he was coming.
"GET BACK HERE!!" Lycaon's roar split the storm as he barreled after her, each thunderous step tearing trees from the ground, pulverizing everything in his path.
Cerise kept running, boots pounding against the muddy forest floor. The storm roared around her, wind lashing through the trees.
Suddenly—CRASH!
A massive boulder slammed into the ground just meters in front of her, sending chunks of earth and debris flying.
She skidded to a halt, nearly crushed. Her breath caught as she turned—only to find the hulking shadow of Lycaon behind her, looming like a nightmare made flesh.
"...Let me ask you again, you damned brat," Lycaon growled, his voice deep and shaking with fury.
"Why did you kill Lykos?"
Cerise arched an eyebrow, almost mockingly. "What, you deaf or something? I already told you—I hate monsters."
The beast let out a roar, raw and pained, the sound ripping through the air like a wounded animal.
"OF ALL THE MONSTERS IN THIS WORLD, WHY LYKOS?! WHY HIM, DAMN YOU?!"
"Whoa, chill, big guy," Cerise muttered, lifting a hand in mock surrender.
Then her expression shifted-still casual, but tinged with something more genuine.
"You know... it wasn't supposed to happen like that."
Lycaon's chest heaved with every breath, rain soaking through his fur, eyes blazing with emotion as Cerise began to speak.
"I was given permission by my teacher to visit the outside world... all because of one reason—" she paused, then smiled faintly. "To meet Arche."
Her voice softened, almost dreamlike now. "I idolize him. He's strong, amazing, so cool... and yeah, totally handsome."
She laughed lightly, the sound out of place in the dark forest.
"I used to beg his mother for stories about him. Sometimes, I'd even ask for bedtime tales just to hear about him."
"I'm his number one fan," she declared proudly, eyes shining. "And if I ever got the chance to meet him in person..."
"I wanted to fight him. Just once. Just to see how incredible he really was."
She took a step forward, arms wide, heart on her sleeve. "And then—I was going to ask him to make me his little sister. Like, officially!"
She beamed. For a moment, the raging storm, the blood, the tension—it all faded.
In Lycaon's furious gaze, he saw it: a spark of unfiltered joy, of genuine admiration.
"So... this is all because of Arche, huh?" Lycaon muttered under his breath, his voice cold, venomous.
"In that case... I'll kill him next—after I finish you."
BANG!
The shot landed before he even finished speaking. A bullet tore through the air and struck Lycaon squarely in the chest. He staggered back, stunned by the pain.
His eyes snapped to Cerise.
The playful spark that usually danced in her eyes was gone—replaced by something far more dangerous.
Her ruby-red eyes burned like fire under the stormlight.
"Don't you dare lay a finger on him," she said, voice low, deadly.
"If you need to take out your rage, your grief, your fury—take it out on me!" she growled, fists trembling.
She stepped forward, shoulders shaking not from fear—but from the weight of everything she carried.
"I've lived my whole life listening to stories about him," she said, voice cracking with memory.
"I've idolized Arche from the moment I could even understand what words meant."
"His mother... she treated me like her own daughter. She used to smile at me and say, 'If you want to be his little sister... earn it.' And I've tried. Every damn day."
Tears mixed with rain on her face, but she didn't waver.
"I won't let you," she said, voice rising. "I won't let you touch him!"
And then she screamed—A raw, defiant, thunderous cry that shook the trees around her.
"HE'S MY BIG BROTHER!"
"My name is Zero Five..." she whispered under her breath, the rain masking her quiet declaration.
"But the name given to me by my mother, Iris... is Cerise." Her fingers tightened around the grip of her weapon.
"I will defeat you... no matter what."
The towering beast snarled in return, eyes glinting beneath the stormclouds.
"Then face me, Cerise. I am Lycaon—the Wild Beast!"
Their cries echoed into the roaring winds as they launched forward, sprinting toward each other like opposing storms destined to collide.
Lycaon, with a roar, hurled a barrage of massive boulders at Cerise. But she was already in motion—twisting, flipping, weaving through the deadly projectiles.
One rock she used as a foothold, springboarding into the air with impossible grace.
BANG!
She fired midair—sharp, precise.
Lycaon reacted with brute instinct, tearing a tree straight from the earth and raising it as a shield.
The bullets struck bark and splintered wood as he hurled the tree toward her like a massive spear.
Cerise didn't flinch.
She ran atop the flying trunk, balancing effortlessly before leaping again_this time, landing square on Lycaon's face.
She stared into one of his eyes-milky and blinded. A wound she had inflicted in a battle long past.
"Let's make it two," she hissed.
But before she could act, his enormous hand shot up-closing around her like a cage.
"Caught you..." Lycaon rumbled, a cruel smirk on his lips.
Cerise didn't panic. Her hand slid to her belt.
Click. Drop. Boom.
A blinding explosion erupted at Lycaon's feet. He howled in agony as the blast tore through his leg, forcing him to release her.
Cerise fell hard, landing with a sharp grunt—her knees buckling beneath her.
"Tch..."
She winced, pain shooting through her leg from the harsh landing. But even through the pain-she stood.
Lycaon roared and slammed his fists into the ground, shattering a massive boulder into countless jagged fragments.
With a savage motion, he hurled them skyward, creating a deadly rain of stone.
Cerise barely had time to react.
Crack!
One shard struck her head.
"Gah—!" she winced, blood trickling from her temple as she stumbled back, raising her shotgun to shield herself from the stinging barrage.
She dove behind a tree, breathing heavily, trying to regroup. For just one second, she thought she could breathe.
But the world doesn't give second chances. A sudden chill ran down her spine as something massive pressed against her side.
Her eyes widened. A huge, clawed hand wrapped around the tree—and her.
"No—!" she gasped, as her body was wrenched from the ground.
Lycaon's grip was unrelenting, lifting her like a ragdoll. His clawed fingers squeezed tightly around her midsection—too tight for drop any bombs.
Cerise squirmed, her breath ragged, fear flashing through her eyes. She wasn't strong enough to break free.
Her thoughts spiraled.
"Senior..." she whispered, voice trembling. "What would you do in a moment like this...?"
But Lycaon answered for him-voice like thunder. "Arche... would surrender... He would let me break every bone in his body if it meant saving someone."
That struck a nerve. Cerise's wide eyes sharpened. Her lips twisted into a grin.
"Surrender... to be destroyed, huh?" Her voice was a whisper of madness.
"A risk..."
She reached down—her fingers trembling but determined—and clicked a fuse.
BOOM!
An explosion erupted between them. Lycaon howled in agony, his hand blown open, flesh torn and raw.
Cerise fell from his grasp like a comet, smoke and blood trailing behind her.
She hit the ground hard, rolling, gasping, her body scorched and bleeding.
Half of her was covered in burns, shrapnel embedded deep in her flesh. Her arm was barely responsive.
But she smiled through the pain.
Her gamble had worked.
"You've lost it...!" Lycaon thundered, stunned by her recklessness. "You're insane!"
Cerise dragged herself to her feet, her body swaying. "I've always been," she muttered, blood dripping from her lips.
With only one hand still functional, Cerise raised her shotgun and pulled the trigger. Her other arm hung limp, refusing to respond.
The recoil from the weapon was brutal against her small frame, forcing her injured arm to jerk upward in pain.
A sharp gasp escaped her lips as her body trembled from the shock.
The blast hit Lycaon squarely, making the monstrous figure stagger.
His massive hands rose, positioned almost as if to applaud—yet it was no ovation. He was trying to crush her.
Cerise turned and ran with everything she had, her legs fueled by pure adrenaline.
But her foot caught the edge of debris-she slipped, crashing to the ground.
"Dammit...!" she hissed, grimacing.
She spun around in sheer terror, eyes widening at the looming beast descending upon her like a nightmare given form.
"A-AAH!" she screamed, and without thinking—without aiming—she pulled the trigger again, her finger trembling.
The shot struck true, lodging deep into Lycaon's chest.
He collapsed forward, face—down, unmoving.
For a moment, everything was silent.
Cerise's breath came in shallow bursts, her body frozen. Tears clung to her lashes, still trembling on the edge of falling. Her heart pounded violently within her chest.
"...I... I did it?" she whispered.
A disbelieving smile crept onto her face—fragile, trembling—like someone waking from a nightmare and not yet certain if the morning was real.
"Senior! Look at me! I did it! I defeated the beast!" Cerise cried out to the sky, her voice trembling, her breath ragged.
A shaky, disbelieving smile bloomed across her bloodstained face.
Her hands still quivered from the recoil, her legs barely able to hold her upright.
"After this, I'll finally—"
She didn't get to finish.
Something cold and unyielding wrapped around her torso, crushing her words in her throat. Her breath hitched.
A chill pierced through her spine as she slowly tilted her gaze downward.
A massive hand. Calloused. Clawed. Alive.
Lycaon's hand.
"No... no... it can't be—He was supposed to be dead."
But the beast rose—slowly, deliberately, like something ancient waking from a slumber, hatred gleaming in its eyes.
The illusion of death had only been a game.
And now, the game was over.
Cerise's body lifted from the ground as if she were weightless, caught in the grip of something far stronger than her.
Her limbs dangled, helpless. Every instinct screamed at her to fight, to run, to detonate another bomb like before-but she couldn't.
Not this time. She knew it. If she tried, her body would shatter first.
She was trapped. Powerless. And afraid.
Tears spilled from her wide eyes, trailing down her cheeks. Her voice was gone.
All she could do was stare—paralyzed—as the beast she thought she'd slain revealed the truth.
Monsters don't die easily.
They wait.
They remember.
And no matter how human her courage felt—it meant nothing to a creature that was never meant to feel mercy.
She had read about monsters in books.
Cruel. Heartless. Unforgiving.
They were never kind.
Because monsters...
were monsters.
"Senior! Help me!"
Cerise screamed, her voice cracking under the weight of panic and terror. "Please... just tell me how to escape! Anything!"
She thrashed weakly in Lycaon's iron grip, her tears streaming down her cheeks, mixing with the blood and dirt.
"Senior, you're... you're amazing! I know you are! You've always been strong! You can save me... right?!"
Her voice grew more desperate, her soul clinging to one last fragile hope.
"Senior—No... Big Brother!" she cried, her voice breaking like glass.
"Please... save your little sister..."
From above, Lycaon's guttural voice rumbled, filled with disdain.
"Pathetic child," he sneered. "Let me tell you something before you die."
Cerise turned her trembling gaze upward, eyes wide in terror as the monstrous figure leaned in, his fangs bared.
"The one you call 'Senior'... the man you adore like a brother, Arche," Lycaon growled, voice like thunder wrapped in malice,
"He's far more terrifying than I could ever be."
"He's a monster," Lycaon whispered coldly. "One that wears a human face."
The words struck Cerise like knives. Her heart twisted in disbelief.
"No... no, that's not true..." she murmured, but her voice was barely a breath now.
Her strength ebbed away. Her limbs, limp. Her hope, broken.
And then—
CRACK.
With a sickening sound, Lycaon crushed her tiny body, bones shattering under the immense force like fragile porcelain.
He tossed her aside as if she were nothing more than debris, her body falling into the cold, muddy ground with a lifeless thud.
She didn't scream.
There was no strength left to scream.
Only tears.
Only silence.
Cerise's dimming eyes stared at the sky, clouds swirling above like mourning spirits.
"Senior..." she whispered, her voice weak and fading. "I'm... sorry..."
Her breaths grew shallow, each word trembling on the edge of silence.
"I... I wish I had more time... to laugh with you... to argue with you... to tell you how much you meant to me..."
A faint, fragile smile formed on her bloodstained lips, tears mingling with the dirt on her cheeks.
"Because... to me, you were never just a senior. You were my family... the big brother I always wished for... the one I looked up to more than anyone..."
Her voice broke into a whisper, barely carried by the wind.
"Thank you... for being my brother... even if you never saw me as your little sister..."
And with those final, broken words, her breath escaped her chest like the last page of a story fluttering in the wind.
Cerise was gone.
Lycaon's monstrous form began to shift, bones cracking, fur receding as the beast melted away, leaving behind the battered body of a man.
His eye—blinded, bloodied by Cerise's final, desperate shot—ached with every blink. The rest of him fared no better.
Wounds tore across his flesh like memories etched into skin.
He turned his head slightly.
There she was.
Cerise.
Her lifeless form lay in the mud, still, small, and broken. The child who had dared to defy him.
The girl who had screamed for help until her very last breath.
And he had crushed her.
Lycaon turned away, the weight of it all pressing against the hollow space where rage once burned.
His steps were slow, uneven, as he began the long walk back to the palace—if it could even be called that anymore. Blood dripped from his side with each step.
He had done it.
He had avenged his son's death.
And yet...
"What now?"
He asked the wind, his voice hoarse and empty, dissipating into the cold air like a breath he didn't need anymore.
There was no answer. There was no future waiting for him at the end of this road.
"...I'll keep walking," he murmured. Not because he had somewhere to go.
But because stopping meant accepting that he no longer mattered.
And so he walked.
One step.
Another.
Then—slip.
His foot caught a hidden stone. The world spun. Pain flared through his ribs as he collapsed, face-first into the wet earth.
"Ugh... Damnit..." he muttered to no one, perhaps to the rock, perhaps to himself, or perhaps to the gods he never believed in.
He tried to move.
He couldn't.
Not even an inch.
His strength had abandoned him at last.
"Lykos... are you happy now?"
His voice cracked, not with emotion, but exhaustion.
As if the very act of speaking was a betrayal of the silence he'd earned.
A bolt of lightning struck nearby, tearing through the sky, painting the world in brief, blinding white.
He didn't even flinch.
There was no strength left for surprise. No anger. No fear.
Only the rain.
Only the silence.
Lycaon closed his one remaining eye.
And in that moment—as the wind wept and thunder groaned in the distance—his world grew quieter.
Then still.
Then nothing.