At first.


    Then—


    He chased.


    A blur of black and red.


    One man tripped.


    Lucian was on him in an instant.


    His fingers wrapped around his throat, squeezing.


    The soldier thrashed, but Lucian held on, watching. Watching as the fear in his eyes turned to something else.


    Hopelessness.


    Lucian let him go.


    Let him stumble away.


    Then—


    He ran him through the chest.


    His dying breath came out as a soft whimper.


    The others didn’t even look back.


    Because the moment they did—they saw him.


    Lucian.


    Standing in the snow.


    His body drenched in blood.


    His face twisted into something inhuman.


    Eyes burning red.


    That horrific smile.


    He was waiting.


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    Hunting them.


    Just like a jackal.


    The last man screamed, tripping over a corpse as Lucian’s shadow fell over him.


    A final, pitiful plea.


    Then—


    Silence.


    When it was over, Lucian stood alone.


    Surrounded by bodies.


    Blood.


    Nothing but blood


    And silence.


    His chest rose and fell—his breath ragged, his body shaking from the remnants of the carnage.


    He could still hear their screams.


    Still, taste the blood.


    The full moon bathed him in silver light, making him look otherworldly—terrifying.


    Kane and Joe stumbled into the base, their lungs burning and their bodies shaking.


    The moment the guards saw them, they dragged them to the commander’s tent.


    They barely made it inside before collapsing onto their knees.


    “Commander!”


    The Duke and his officers turned to face them.


    Kane’s voice broke with desperation.


    “The enemy… they’re already inside the border. They’re attacking tonight… AND LUCIA—”


    His voice cracked.


    Tears streamed down his face.


    “He’s fighting them alone. Buying us time. BELIEVING we’d bring help.”


    Silence.


    The Duke watched them, his face unreadable.


    Kane gritted his teeth, bowing his head.


    “Please.” His voice trembled. “Save him.”


    A moment passed.


    Then—


    “Take them into confinement.”


    The guards grabbed Kane and Joe.


    “NO—WAIT!”


    The Duke’s cold voice interrupted them.


    “Give them food, medicine, and rest.”


    Kane’s breath hitched.


    The Duke turned to his vice-commander.


    “Ready the soldiers. We’re going to retrieve our soldier.”


    The Duke’s army marched through the night, following the echoes of screams.


    Horrific. Unnatural.


    The closer they got, the more terrified the soldiers became.


    “What… what’s happening up ahead?”


    The screams didn’t stop.


    They only grew worse.


    Then, through the trees—


    A clearing bathed in moonlight.


    Blood.


    Everywhere.


    Bodies lay piled like mountains, a grotesque sculpture of twisted limbs and severed heads.


    And standing at the very top—


    Lucian.


    His body was drenched in blood, his uniform torn to shreds.


    In his hand—


    The severed head of the enemy commander.


    His eyes glowed with madness, one deep ocean blue, the other a haunting, blood-red.


    The soldiers behind the Duke froze in horror.


    Was this… the same boy?


    The Duke stepped forward.


    Lucian didn’t react.


    His breathing was uneven, his shoulders trembling.


    Then—


    His fingers twitched.


    His hand moved to his head, gripping it.


    His chest heaved.


    A shudder ran through his body as if he was struggling against something inside himself.


    Then—


    He collapsed.


    The battlefield fell into silence.


    And the moon watched over him, glowing cold and pale.


    The moon hung low, casting a pale glow over the northern camp as the Duke’s soldiers carried Lucian’s lifeless body into the medical tent.