Coming to his senses, Victor found himself standing once again in the middle of the gloomy cave, clutching Dirk's still-warm, blood-oozing heart in his hand. He instantly felt a burning, irreversible change take place deep inside him. Thin streams of bloody tears suddenly began to flow spontaneously from his eyes. Looking at the surviving werewolves who knelt trembling in terror before him, Victor gave a barely perceptible shake of his head.
The feeling of absolute dominance truly intoxicated him. But right now, he wasn't ready yet... And now he realized it.
— I don't want to ruin this wonderful moment with a mundane murder... But I can't leave them alive, either, — he whispered softly, almost inaudibly.
In his eyes, the crimson Sharingan pattern spun wildly once more, and a terrifying smile bloomed on his pale face. Victor's fingers lengthened unnaturally, and razor-sharp claws sprouted from their tips with a dry click.
With one swift motion, he tossed the torn-out heart high into the air.
And at that moment, Antoine's team experienced true shock all over again.
The instant the heart took flight, reality in the cave literally tore to shreds. In the mercenaries' eyes, the view rippled insanely: at the exact same moment, a silhouette of Victor materialized before each of the twenty-eight werewolves.
With a dull thud, Dirk's heart landed on the blood-soaked stones.
And in that exact same second, Victor was already standing right in front of the frozen Antoine, eyes wide open, staring at his own hand.
— Kh-h-ha-a... Gh-h-h...
A horrific, synchronized wheeze echoed through the cave. All the werewolves simultaneously grabbed their throats with their hands. Crimson blood gushed in spurts from beneath their fingers. Wheezing and twitching in convulsions, the captives collapsed onto the stones one after another until everything went dead silent.
Victor himself was deeply shaken at that moment. "Can I... really do that?" He had merely envisioned the slaughter when his body bolted on its own: he had begun Apparating to each werewolf in the blink of an eye, slitting their throats with his claws. To those around, everything had taken a fraction of a second, but for him, through the perception of the Sharingan, those moments had stretched out far longer. Still, even so, Victor didn't fully comprehend how he had managed to pull off such a feat.
His claws slowly reverted to their former shape, and the crimson pattern in his eyes faded, giving way to his familiar blue irises. But in the very depths of his magic, something had snapped, and streams of blood spontaneously flowed from his eyes. Victor wiped away the bloody tears with the back of his hand, but new red trails stubbornly continued to carve their way down his skin.
— Antoine, — Victor called out softly to the commander, noticing that he was standing motionless like a stone statue.
Antoine and his people finally forced themselves to take a sluggish breath and unclamp their numb jaws.
— A-are you alright? — the commander asked hollowly, unable to tear his eyes away from the boy whose face continued to be washed in blood, no matter how much he wiped it away.
— Yeah. Probably... I don't know. Something's wrong with my eyes, — Victor answered quietly. — But that doesn't matter right now.
He smoothly raised his open palm upward. Right above his fingers, a translucent, glowing bird woven from pure, dazzling white light materialized. However, in the very next instant, it began to expand rapidly and flared into such a bright shower of sparks that it blinded everyone around for a second before vanishing with a pop.
Victor stared at his hand in total bewilderment, his eyes wide. He had only intended to create a small glowing bird to lead Antoine deep into the catacombs—to where the kidnapped children were being kept.
— Why did you do that? — Antoine asked, blinking hard to rid his eyes of the unexpected flash.
— I wanted to make a bird... But I guess I miscalculated a bit, — Victor replied calmly, though a faint panic was already mounting inside him: "What the hell was that? Screwed up a spell? Who—me?!" — Oh well, doesn't matter right now. Come on, I'll show you where you need to go.
A short while later.
Watching the mercenaries along with the frightened children finally make their way outside, Victor sat squinting on a warm boulder, lazily turning his face to the sun—like an ordinary teenager relaxing at the beach. Antoine quickly located him with his gaze and headed straight toward him.
The boy's appearance had changed beyond recognition. All the blood had vanished without a trace from his clothes and skin, and that suffocating, bone-chilling sense of primal threat he had radiated in the cave was gone without a trace. Sitting before the squad commander now was the most ordinary, relaxed kid. Looking at him, it was insanely hard to believe that this very child had cold-bloodedly orchestrated a true bloodbath underground just a few minutes ago.
— I contacted my person in the British Ministry of Magic, — Antoine reported quietly, stopping beside him. — We'll frame it so it looks like an Auror patrol stumbled upon the children by accident. If our mission is finished here, we're ready to head back to France.
Antoine waited for an answer, but Victor sat motionless and silent, his thoughtful gaze fixed on the freed children.
— Victor? — the captain called out again.
— Tell me, Antoine... — Victor spoke quietly without turning around. — If you suddenly realized you were being used in the dark, but it brought you tangible benefit and profit... would you take offense?
Antoine pondered for a moment, then shook his head:
— Hard to say. But if it didn't harm me in any way and brought in a profit... I don't think I'd be too upset.
Victor nodded and finally stood up, casually brushing the dust off his robes.
— My thoughts exactly. — Victor took a deep, full-chested breath. — God, how wonderful it is to be alive! Don't you think everything around has changed? The air feels cleaner, the sun warms more pleasantly, and this gentle breeze... Ah, so good! How beautiful life is! — Victor nodded with satisfaction and looked at Antoine. — To answer your question: no, you aren't free just yet. There's still a bit of work for you here, so you'll have to stick around in England until tomorrow.
Suddenly, his gaze slipped past the commander and darted through the thick tree growth at the edge of the clearing. There, wrapped in a warm cloak, a little girl was weeping bitterly while Camille tried with all her strength to comfort her. But something else caught Victor's attention: one of the surviving boys, walking past this girl, shuddered in fright. He shot her a quick glance and noticeably picked up his pace to get away—as if she might devour him. Victor recognized that miserable little girl from the cave right away.
— Why wasn't she bitten? — Victor narrowed his eyes.
Antoine, thinking the question was addressed to him, followed his gaze, but could only see vague silhouettes through the dense wall of foliage.
— Who do you mean?
— Over there, by the tents. The little girl. She isn't a werewolf.
— Hm. They were probably waiting for her first accidental magic outbreak to turn her later, — Antoine suggested.
However, Victor, who continued to observe the crying child closely, shook his head. He could distinctly feel that the girl already commanded magic freely.
Watching her tremble inconsolably in Camille's arms, Victor suddenly chuckled softly:
— Ha-ha-ha... I was tricked! Damn, that's actually a bit annoying... But fine, I'll write it off to the fact that I was out of my mind all this time. Well, lesson learned. Anyway, Antoine, I'll contact you later. By the way, don't forget to alter the children's memories: I was never here.
Antoine nodded understandingly.
Victor took another deep breath:
— Ha-a-ah... Man, it really is great to be alive!
Then, with a smile, he whipped around and Apparated with a sharp, dry pop, vanishing into thin air.
However, no sooner had he disappeared than he reappeared with a loud crack a meter above the ground, slammed his forehead into the nearest tree, and tumbled awkwardly down into the grass.
Antoine looked at the lying boy in surprise:
— Are you alright?
Victor merely huffed in offense. Lying on the grass, he ostentatiously crossed his arms over his chest and pouted:
— Antoine... Could you Apparate me to England? I've been having some strange problems with my magic lately.