One might assume that Philip Crude seeing people as animals, creatures, beasts would have been brought on by insanity—madness triggered by having chi forcibly infused into him. Hell, even Joshua Ambrose believed that at first. But that wasn't the case. Joshua had tested him once, asking Philip what animal or creature he saw when he looked at certain people, and the results confirmed otherwise. It wasn't madness at all. Joshua had called it a gift, an ability that only a rare few could develop when they started using chi. Philip was one of the select few fortunate—or perhaps unfortunate—enough to possess it.
His gift allowed him to evaluate and understand the strengths of his opponents, to see their essence in a way no ordinary man could. Right now, though, the thing he was seeing...
When Philip first laid eyes on Xain, the boy had appeared to him as a ram—stronger than sheep and wild dogs but not enough to pose a significant threat to a wolf like himself. Under certain conditions, he recognized the potential danger, but he dismissed Xain as ultimately weaker than the shepherd dog, Malvin, and far beneath predators like Joshua, a great tiger, or Reinhard, the brave lion.
But now?
Now, what he saw before him made them all seem insignificant, nonexistent even.
The thing he was seeing defied logic, utterly incomprehensible yet at the same time horribly clear. Calling it disgusting would be a gross insult to its raw, majestic beauty, yet to call it captivating would diminish its grotesque, horrifying nature. It was divinity wrapped in a hellish nightmare—something that felt as if it should exist yet absolutely shouldn't. A contradiction made manifest. It was all possibilities and impossibilities colliding into one form.
Philip collapsed. His legs gave out beneath him as Xain took a single step forward.
"No," Philip muttered, scrambling backward on the ground, his eyes wide with panic. "Don't come closer!" he cried, his voice trembling with unrestrained terror.
The thing kept advancing.
"Please!" Philip begged, his voice cracking as he raised a bloodstained hand in a futile gesture of defense. "I'm sorry! Please, please don't!" But his pleas were meaningless. The Beast loomed ever closer, its presence suffocating, its contradictions tearing at the edges of his sanity. For the first time in his life, Philip Crude felt something foreign, alien, and utterly consuming—fear.
There was nothing left to do but shriek.
---
Malvin moved swiftly, his eyes locked on the faint trail of blood and footsteps as he followed Philip's path. But then, a high-pitched, terror-filled scream cut through the air like a knife. Malvin's heart lurched. "No!" he shouted, panic gripping him as the worst crossed his mind. He feared that Philip had claimed yet another victim. Clenching his teeth, he pushed himself to run faster, his boots pounding the cobblestones as he rounded the final corner.
What he saw froze him mid-step.
Philip Crude sat slumped against a wall, blood dripping from his battered face. His expression was twisted, locked in a grimace of pure horror. Standing over him was a boy with blue hair, his right hand dripping with crimson.
"What happened here?" Malvin muttered aloud, his voice barely audible over his heavy breathing. He didn't expect an answer, but the question came instinctively as shock paralyzed him. His gaze snapped to Xain just as the boy turned to face him.
For a split second, their eyes met. Malvin felt an overwhelming force—eyes burning with absolute Hatred locked onto him, searing through his soul as his fists clenched on instinct without him even realizing it, a primal reaction to the oppressive aura radiating from Xain.
But just as quickly as it appeared, the Hatred was gone. Xain's expression shifted abruptly, the burning fire in his eyes replaced by confusion.
"Wha-what happened?" Xain stammered, his voice faint and dazed, as if he had just woken from a nightmare. He looked around wildly, his confusion turning to panic as his eyes landed on his bloodied hands. "Where am—AH!" he screamed, his voice cracking as he stumbled back, staring at his own trembling hands. One was slick with blood, the other clutching something Malvin couldn't make out.
"Blo-blood? Why would there be..." Xain's words trailed off as his gaze shifted downward. His eyes fell upon Philip's lifeless, crumpled form, and his entire body froze.
"Huh!?" Xain yelped, his face pale as realization seemed to crash over him like a tidal wave. He began shaking his head violently, muttering in a desperate, broken voice. "No, I didn't... no, I couldn't have..."
He turned to Malvin, his wide, tear-filled eyes begging for understanding. "I-I didn't do it! I didn't! I couldn't! I didn't do it!" His voice cracked, desperation dripping from every word as tears streamed down his face.
Before Malvin could say anything, Xain spun around and bolted, his steps uneven but fast, his form disappearing down the darkened streets. "Hey! Wait!" Malvin called after him, his voice carrying an urgency he couldn't suppress. But Xain didn't stop, his retreating figure clutching whatever it was in his hand as he vanished into the night.
Malvin turned his attention back to Philip and knelt beside him, pressing two fingers against his neck in search of a pulse. After a tense moment, he lowered his hand, his expression grim.
"Nothing," he muttered. "He's dead."
Malvin's gaze drifted in the direction Xain had fled, his mind racing as he tried to piece together what had just happened. "Just what happened?" he wondered aloud, his voice heavy with disbelief. But no matter how much he tried to rationalize the scene, one thing was undeniable.
Philip Crude was dead.
And with him, the nightmare had finally ended.