The forest seemed to hold its breath.
Aamir's blade hovered over the Beast, its crimson aura burning hotter than ever.
Every muscle in his body screamed, his senses straining to the limit.
The Beast shrieked, thrashing violently, smoke and shadows swirling around it like a living storm.
It had bled, it had weakened—but Aamir could feel the raw, unholy power still coiling within.
He stepped forward, ready to strike.
The world narrowed to the swing of his sword, the rhythm of his heartbeat, the focus of every ounce of energy he had cultivated.
And then—
A chill washed over him, sharper than the coldest night on the Vampire Planet.
From above, a figure descended.
Slowly, deliberately.
Aamir's eyes narrowed. The aura was familiar—familiar yet twisted.
Not the Beast. Not Seemus. Something… else.
Shamrock.
The air around him shimmered like a mirage, body half-human, half-monster.
