Aren darted behind the pillar, driving his blade beneath the soldier's jaw. The man slumped instantly.
The others froze, stunned. Aren didn't give them time to recover; his blade flashed, slicing across a wrist.
The third soldier reacted, raising his rifle. Aren twisted, bullets tearing through the space he had occupied a heartbeat earlier.
"Damn you, bastard!" the gunman roared, spraying lead.
"Hey! If you keep firing—"
The soldier's protest was cut short by a bullet through his arm. The commander seized his collar, dragging him back.
"Everyone, fall back!" she barked, slamming the butt of her weapon into the gunman's head. "Get a grip, idiot! Take the wounded! Pull out!"
The soldiers retreated, hauling their dead and injured. As the gunfire ceased, Aren seized his chance. He bolted for the back door, shoved it open, and threw himself into the downpour.
He fled into the forest, directionless.
All his life, Aren had chased thrills through extreme sports to escape his dull routine. But this was different. For the first time, he felt death breathing down his neck. Even as he ran, he sensed his hunters in the darkness.
Breathing hard, he ducked behind a tree to steady himself. His expression tightened.
God… I really killed those soldiers.
Whether the original Aren had committed the massacre mattered little now. He had ended those lives.
"Damn it…"
He raked a hand through his rain-soaked hair and pushed away from the tree to run again. Suddenly, motion caught his eye.
Metal vines slithered from the trunks like serpents. They wove together rapidly, transforming the forest into a massive web.
"What the hell…?" Aren muttered.
Before he could react, a sharp spike burst from the ground. It pierced his right foot, slamming into the tree ahead and pinning him in place.
"AAAGH!"
Aren dropped to one knee, a cry tearing from his throat.
"Ugh!"
Another spike erupted, tearing through his left shoulder and anchoring him to the tree behind. Then, the forest unleashed its fury. Spikes punched through his body one after another, weaving him into a cage of steel.
There, in the middle of the woods, Aren hung suspended—skewered and held fast by a cage of metal.
Aren coughed, blood staining his lips as he fought to remain conscious. His head lolled forward, hair shielding his face like a curtain. Suddenly, a hand grabbed his hair, yanking his head back with brutal force.
He squinted through blurred vision at his captor.
"Crafty little rat, aren't you?" The man brushed back his ash-gray hair, eyes locked on Aren with cold, murderous intent. "All this effort… just to catch a brat like you." He clicked his tongue. "Relax. You will not die."
"If you didn't want him dead, you shouldn't have skewered him like a kebab, Logan."
A woman approached from behind, her voice tight with irritation. She shot him a warning look. Then she turned back to Aren.
"I avoided his vital organs, didn't I, Mary?"
"This is your idea of avoiding vitals?" She gestured at Aren, who looked more like a human pincushion than a person.
"Tsk. You're no fun," Logan muttered.
With another click of his tongue, he retracted the metal spikes. Aren's body sagged, collapsing instantly. Mary caught him before he hit the ground and carefully lowered him onto his back.
Seeing the blood Aren was coughing up—clear evidence of internal trauma—Mary groaned.
"God, Logan… you're a menace." Mary glared at him, her disgust palpable.
Aren looked like a human pincushion, riddled with dozens of spikes. He had ceased to look like a person, reduced to nothing more than a mass of pierced flesh and cold steel.
"When are you going to stop creating work for me?"
Logan just grinned and shrugged.
Mary's jaw tightened. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to focus on the healing. If she didn't, she might actually tear Logan apart.
She placed both hands on Aren's chest.
A vibrant emerald glow enveloped them. The light seeped into Aren, warm and soothing. Inside him, shredded flesh pulled itself back together. Torn tissues pulled tight, reconnecting and sealing the damage.
It looked like a wound being stitched, but the sensation was agonizing.
Aren's mind dulled from the shock. The pain was so overwhelming that he couldn't even find the strength to scream. Time became a blur; what felt like an hour of torture lasted only fifteen minutes.
By the time the glow faded, Mary looked ready to collapse from exhaustion. She reached into her pocket, producing a vial filled with thick, purple liquid.
Aren felt icy fingers on his cheek. Through hazy eyes, he looked up at her.
Mary gripped his jaw, forcing his lips apart, and tipped the vial into his throat.
"This is a recovery potion," she said, her voice clinical.
She clamped a hand over his mouth to ensure he swallowed. Aren coughed, his body rejecting the potion, but Mary remained indifferent. She tapped his cheek twice, clinical and detached, before finally letting go.
"If you're done with the show, tell the Avalon Wardens to scrub this place. And make sure he doesn't escape—or hurt anyone else."
"Yes, sir!"
Logan's command was cold, mocking. Aren watched through blurred vision, his grip on consciousness slipping. Too weak to resist, he felt a soldier haul him up and throw him over a shoulder. Darkness swallowed him.
Outside, the rain had turned into a deluge. As the Aegis team moved through the storm, they passed the Avalon Wardens loading wounded into ambulances.
Aegis climbed into their black tactical vans and departed, leaving the cleanup to the Wardens. Evidence collection and body retrieval were no longer their concern.
"What do you think they'll do to him?" Sid, the team's youngest rookie, asked.
Everyone's gaze shifted to Aren Donovan. He lay unconscious on the seat, hands bound.
"IMFA, probably. After the trial," Logan said, leaning back and brushing his hair from his forehead.
Sid hesitated. "Isn't he a little young for that?"
Logan barked a harsh laugh. "Young?" His voice dripped with irritation. "That 'kid' slaughtered everyone in that mansion. He nearly wiped out the Avalon Wardens before we even arrived."
He leaned in, a mocking smirk playing on his lips. "Still think he's just some harmless little brat?"
A chilling silence descended upon the van. Outside, the vehicle sped through the rain, disappearing into the night.