Bane stood rooted to the floor, his gaze locked on the unconscious figure sprawled on the medical bed.
The air felt thin, each breath drawn in like a blade scraping against his lungs. His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven beats, the rhythm faltering as his eyes traced the contours of the girl's face.
The oxygen mask obscured her features, but it couldn't hide her identity.
The scars were impossible to ignore, lines etched deeply into her once-vibrant skin, some fresh and angry, others faded but no less brutal.
Her black hair, ragged and clinging to her pale skin, framed her face like a shroud. His eyes drifted downward, catching on her legs.
One was whole, though marred with bruises. The other… His jaw clenched. Stitches ran haphazardly over what remained of her nearly severed leg, the work of someone who had cared only to prolong suffering, not to heal.
The faint hum of the oxygen machine filled the room, steady and rhythmic, a sharp contrast to the weight in his chest.
He didn't speak, didn't move, didn't blink. His hands hung limp at his sides, but his fingers twitched sporadically, curling inward.
The melody that had drawn him here still lingered in the back of his mind, twisting like a knife.
Bane's head dipped slightly as if the weight of those words had pressed down on him.
The past roared to life in his mind, unbidden and unrelenting. Liya's smile, bright and unguarded, illuminated by firelight.
The laughter in her voice, clear and carefree. The sound of Ron's chuckle beside her, his hand resting on her shoulder.
Then came the images he could never forget. Blood spattered on dirt. Soldiers' voices barking commands.
Ron's body crumpled on the ground, his blood pooling beneath him. A sword raised high. Liya screams.
Bane's fists clenched, his nails driving into his palms with enough force to draw blood. He barely registered the sting as a single drop fell to the floor, a crimson bead spreading outward.
His breaths quickened, loud and sharp, filling the room with their jagged rhythm.
His gaze returned to Liya's face, but this time, it wasn't just her scars or dishevelled hair he saw.
It was the way her body had been broken. He recognized the marks of cruelty for cruelty's sake.
These weren't wounds inflicted for information or as part of a calculated interrogation. They were the work of someone who had enjoyed watching her suffer.
A low, guttural sound rumbled in his throat. His shoulders tensed, the muscles rippling beneath his coat as the red haze in his vision deepened.
The air around him thickened, heavy with a pressure that made the walls seem closer. His hands began to tremble.
The floor beneath him creaked, a warning groan under the weight of something unseen. Then it came, a pulse, faint but growing. It radiated from Bane, rippling outward, an almost tangible wave of energy that warped the air.
The faint glow in his eyes intensified, the red deepening to something almost unnatural.
From within, Jörmungandr stirred. The Teigu's presence, usually subdued, now flared to life, feeding off Bane's emotions.
Its eyes glowed bright in his mind, twin embers of rage and bloodlust. Slowly, its shadowy form began to materialise, coiling around Bane like a protective shroud.
The oppressive energy seeped into every corner, filling the medical wing with a suffocating weight.
Outside, in the surrounding forests, danger beasts fell silent. Their movements stilled, and those bold enough to approach the Night Raid's base whimpered softly before retreating into the shadows. Even apex predators instinctively understood that a greater force had claimed this territory.
Inside, the weight bore down on those still conscious. Sayo and Ieyasu, mercifully shielded by their oxygen masks, remained blissfully unaware of the mounting tension. But Tatsumi wasn't so lucky.
Tatsumi's knees hit the floor with a dull thud. His hands trembled violently as he pressed them against the cold surface, his chest heaving with laboured breaths.
His vision swam, dark spots crowding the edges as the pressure in the room increased. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to run, but his legs refused to obey.
He risked a glance upward and immediately regretted it. The sight before him was nothing short of monstrous.
Bane, the seemingly quiet and unassuming man Tatsumi had met only recently, now radiated an aura so malevolent it felt otherworldly.
The shadow of the serpent loomed behind him, its massive body coiled tightly, its head lowered as though ready to strike.
Sweat dripped down Tatsumi's temple. He struggled to swallow, his throat dry and constricted. Every breath felt like dragging air through a straw.
His instincts, sharpened by weeks of training and battle, screamed at him to flee, but the oppressive energy locked him in place.
The room's temperature seemed to drop, the air growing colder and heavier with each passing second. Then came the sound, a low hiss that reverberated through the walls. Jörmungandr's spectral form shifted slightly, its glowing red eyes locking onto Bane as if feeding directly from his fury.
The serpent's presence wasn't just spiritual, it was a weight, a force that pressed against the physical world.
The edges of its form seemed to blur, flickering in and out of focus as its energy merged with Bane's. Together, they created a singular, suffocating aura that threatened to consume everything in its path.
Bane didn't speak. He didn't need to. The room itself seemed to echo his fury, his thirst for vengeance. The steady hum of the oxygen machine faltered, its rhythm disrupted by the pressure surrounding it.
"STOP!"
The voice cut through the haze like a thunderclap. It was sharp, commanding, and absolute.
The red glow in Bane's eyes dimmed instantly, flickering before fading entirely. The oppressive energy dissipated, the serpent's form vanishing like smoke caught in the wind.
Bane blinked, his breaths hitching as the haze receded. His fists loosened, blood dripping freely from where his nails had pierced his skin.
He didn't look at his hands. His gaze remained fixed on Liya, unseeing, as though she were the only thing anchoring him to the present.
The silence returned, heavier than before, broken only by the faint, rhythmic beep of the machines.