Only two hundred miles remained between them and the Captain Pack.
It should have felt like hope.
It didn't.
Victor suddenly faltered. A sharp grimace twisted his face as his hand flew to his chest. His vision blurred, no matter how hard he shook his head to clear it.
The poison had finished its work.
"Victor?" Alpha dropped Ace without thinking, catching him as he staggered. "Are you okay?"
For once, Victor didn't say I'm fine.
He grabbed Alpha's arm, his grip, weak but urgent.
"Alpha," he said quietly, breath uneven. "This is as far as I go. Take Ace. Get to your pack. I'll cover you."
Alpha froze.
Green veins were crawling out from beneath Victor's sleeves, creeping up his neck from under his collar—no longer hidden, no longer deniable.
"Victor… no," Alpha whispered, his chest tightening.
A low, hostile sound rolled through the air.
Alpha turned sharply.
A squad of Larks stood not far away—creatures known for their cruelty, already shifting, already sensing weakness.
There was no time.
Before the Larks could notice them fully, Alpha transformed. He lifted Ace onto his back, cast one last, broken look at Victor—and then sprinted toward the Captain Pack with everything he had.
Leaving Victor behind to face what was coming alone.
Victor watched Alpha vanish into the distance with Ace on his back. His vision blurred, the world tilting no matter how many times he blinked—but he still saw them.
The Larks were already gathering. Silent and methodical. Hunters known for archery and ruthless planning.
He knew he had to draw them away so he slowly pulled out his daggers. With a steady hand, he sliced his palm. A thin line of blood surfaced—then lifted into the air, glowing a bright, burning red.
It worked.
The Larks' attention snapped toward him.
The next few seconds exploded into motion.
Arrows tore through the air.
Victor moved on instinct alone. His sight failed him, but his hearing was sharp, his reflexes still fast. He twisted, dodged, deflected what he could—forcing his body to keep moving, to keep fighting.
He didn't need to win.
He just needed Alpha to get far enough.
Meanwhile far away, high in the mountains, surrounded by snow and biting cold, stood a grand castle built from dark-gold stone.
It was empty and at its heart knelt a lone figure, shoulders slumped, head bowed—a broken silhouette carved into the silence.
Ramien.
He had been on his knees since the battle ended. Nothing in the castle moved. Nothing breathed. Only his mind refused to rest.
It replayed memories of when these halls bustled with his family and servants, filled with laughter, footsteps, life.
Now he was the only one left.
His entire family was dead because of him. Because of what the universe had given him.
Just like in history—when King Renard brought the destruction of the Ashen Line because of his dragon—Ramien had done the same. He had left only himself alive.
A tear fell.
If only he had been fearless like his brother, the evil spirit would never have been born within Xyldrak.
If only he had sealed Xyldrak one last time, he would still have had the chance to speak to his parents.
Now?
Now everyone was gone.
He didn't even know if any of his friends had survived.
Xyldrak had erased his brother from existence and then fallen eerily silent. That alone led Ramien to a single conclusion.
He would use his unique ability.
Every creature possessed a power tailored to their soul.
Damien could teleport.
Alpha could expand his vision dozens of times over.
Victor could fight using his own blood.
And Ramien?
Ramien could raise the dead.
But it came with a cost.
The undead would be completely loyal to their master. They would never resist him. Never disobey him. Everything they did would exist only to serve his will.
They were like lifeless machines from Earth—soulless, obedient, bound forever.
With that resolution, Ramien's wings unfurled, and he took to the skies, flying toward the academy.
In a forest below, Larks—creatures with crocodile heads, human torsos, and ostrich legs—rained arrows down on a lone Vampire who dodged on instinct alone.
Victor tried his best, but some arrows still found their mark.
Whenever he was hit, whenever his blood seeped out, it regrouped in midair, burned a bright red, and launched itself back at the Larks like living beads.
The moment a bead touched a Lark, its life essence was drained away.
But no matter how many fell, more rose.
Time blurred.
The green veins crept across Victor's face, down his neck, over his entire body. His strength drained with every breath, and as his life slipped away, something feral took its place.
His eyes shifted from black to red.
With his last remaining potential squeezed dry, he roared.
A burst of bright red light exploded outward, sweeping across the land and draining the life essence of every creature within five miles.
Then—silence.
Victor fell onto his back, gasping for air. His eyes faded back to black as he stared up at the sky.
Memories flickered through his mind—his family, his Coven, the ridiculous dramas he watched in the dorm, the stupid jokes he used to make.
A faint smile touched his lips.
And then darkness claimed him.
At the academy's assembly ground, Ramien descended from the sky, his wings folding out of existence behind him.
He walked slowly to the place where his brother had been shattered, the memory replaying over and over in his mind. All he needed was something—anything—that belonged to Damien.
And he found it.
The necklace they had once shared.
His hands trembled as he lifted it, forcing his thoughts away from the past. Blue light ignited in his palms as he activated his power.
The chain rose into the air.
Ramien closed his eyes pouring everything into the spell—every memory, every shared laugh, every argument, every detail of the brother he loved. He clung to one fragile hope: that Damien might return with the strength to disobey him sometimes.
He did not want a servant.
He wanted a brother.
Hours passed.
The radiant blue light slowly faded.
Two figures stood where one had knelt.
Ramien opened his eyes, searching Damien's face desperately for any sign of emptiness.
"Damien?" he asked carefully, rising to his feet.
"Ramien," Damien replied.
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
Relief bloomed in Ramien's chest, a fragile smile forming—until Damien spoke again.
"Thank you for giving me another chance at life. I will forever be grateful."
Ramien staggered back.
"Are you okay?" Damien asked at once.
Ramien looked away, his voice barely steady. "Go. Live your life the way you want."
"No way, I will stay by your side at all times," Damien declared.
Ramien shook his head and in that moment, he understood.
He had brought his brother back.
But he had not brought him back free.
"Ramien… what of our parents? What of your friends?" Damien asked softly. "Please… help bring them back."
The words tore at him.
Ramien turned away, his hands slowly clenching into fists.
He knew the truth.
If he revived them, they would return like Damien—alive, aware… but never fully their own. Their thoughts would walk in circles around his will. Their choices would no longer be choices.
Yet the alternative was emptiness, silence and graves.
Better enslaved to life than lost to death.
So he began.
One by one.
First his parents.
Then those he had laughed with, trained with, trusted.
Each resurrection stole a little more of his strength—and a little more of his peace.
Meanwhile…
Victor opened his eyes.
Darkness filled the room.
But darkness meant nothing to him.
His vision cut through the black as clearly as daylight.
"Am I dead?" he murmured. "Is this… the underworld?"
A presence stirred and his instincts flared.
Victor shot upright just as a massive shape lunged into view.
A wolf.
Huge, muscles coiled tight, every strand of fur bristling and teeth bared.
Victor's daggers were in his hands in an instant while the wolf seemed to howl his lungs out.
Both froze.
Predator facing predator.
Then pain tore through him.
His body convulsed as he spat a mouthful of green-stained blood onto the floor.
I'm not dead…
Then where am I?
Footsteps rushed in.
The door burst open.
Alpha stormed inside with several other werewolves at his side.
And at last, the answer stood before him.
He had been saved from the brink of death.