He who controls others may be powerful, but he who has mastered himself is mightier still.
Captured
There are times in life when you feel like you woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Well, I think I was experiencing something akin to that, except that I was awakened not by a groggy morning but by someone literally demolishing the wall next to me, grabbing me, and throwing me out of the hole.
I flew through the air with an unexpected grace for the situation, landing softly on the ground from a height of about ten feet. I quickly assessed my dire situation.
It was as bad as it could get. I found myself surrounded by a circle of hunters, their faces masked and their eyes cold. The first to catch my attention was Igor, his Russian heritage unmistakable. He held his pistol firmly, though it wasn't yet aimed at me. To his left were the twins, Nina and Gregory Fiore. Their snow-white masks, with their unnervingly rectangular eye cutouts, marked them unmistakably.
As I glanced around, I marveled at the variety of masks. The most dangerous hunters often have theirs custom-made. My eyes slid over to Rolo and Alex. Two additional paladins stood beside them, and beside the paladins, I spotted someone I hoped never to see again: George Willingham, observing silently. Despite his usual demeanor, his face remained expressionless.
Oberon approached with thunderous steps. There was no mistaking him: a six-foot-tall giant, perhaps twice as broad as the average human. His only ability was to turn his skin into steel while holding a steel ball in his fist. When he reached me, he knocked me back to the ground with a powerful punch. Even George's composure was momentarily shaken, his eyes widening slightly.
Willingham had always prided himself on his ability to gauge strength accurately. In his mind, he had long ranked paladins, placing Oberon at the bottom. Despite Oberon's considerable strength, his attacks were notoriously slow, making him an easy target. Willingham believed I could easily defeat the giant.
Yet, I lay motionless as Oberon pummeled my body. George, puzzled, observed silently, trying to understand why I wasn't retaliating. The other paladins watched in silence, witnessing their ally's attempt to crush every bone in my body.
The monster within me roared in response to the relentless pain and the threat. Every time Oberon's fist connected, it was as if the monster within me was being awakened, pushing me to endure, to fight back with a ferocity born of primal instincts. My healing ability was working overtime, mending the wounds almost as quickly as they were inflicted, but the pain made me dizzy.
Suddenly, George became aware of the deep, guttural sounds Alex was making and noticed Rolo's trembling form. I knew they would strike soon.
"No!" I snapped, startling everyone present, including George Willingham. Oberon froze mid-punch.
"Don't do anything," I continued, my voice edged with urgency, "If you come any closer, you'll die."
Tiny sparks of realization flickered in Willingham's eyes. For the first time, he understood — I had been protecting my famiglia. Perhaps for the first time in his life, he had miscalculated. He had assumed my survival was my sole priority, thinking I'd sacrifice my famiglia without hesitation. He had believed I was driven solely by the instinct to survive — back when we first met, that might have been true. But something had changed, and George was desperate to understand what.
"But…" Alex began to step forward, then halted.
His gaze shifted sideways, catching sight of Lydia's hand holding a dagger. Alex stepped back, and Lydia withdrew her hand. Rolo looked up at the towering black man beside him, and Laurent cast a downward glance. The kid flinched, his eyes fixed on the ground. He knew that a single wrong move could be fatal.
The ground trembled beneath the force of Oberon's metal arm. In an instant, I sprang to my feet, locking eyes with Willingham. George scrutinized every inch of me with his piercing gaze. I must have looked pitiful, my pajamas reduced to scraps stained with my own blood. Yet something deep within me compelled Willingham to stay alert. He knew this was far from over.
"I will go with you willingly, on one condition," I said, my voice steady, "I will fight whoever you choose, but if I win, you must let them go."
I gestured toward the figures of the wolf and the kid. Willingham stared, grappling with the sight of the seemingly pathetic beast he still feared. He tried to discern what had changed. As Oberon prepared to strike again, George suddenly issued the command:
"Stop!"
Oberon's face flushed with rage, his fist rearing back once more. I dodged the punch with a swift sidestep and retaliated with a powerful kick. The force of the impact drove my heel into his side with a sickening crunch. Blood erupted from the wound, spraying in a grotesque arc as Oberon staggered backward, a pained roar escaping his lips. Willingham's eyes narrowed, knowing that if I weren't cautious of the other paladins, I would have unleashed a far more devastating blow.
The monster within me roared with glee, a primal hunger awakening. Each drop of blood spilled, and each cry of pain fed its insatiable desire for violence.
"Very well, I'll accept your request," Willingham declared.
Before he had even finished speaking, the twins lunged at me. Their blades flashed through the air, slicing into my flesh with brutal precision. Blood spattered onto the green grass as they danced around me with dizzying speed. Each cut was deep, carving into muscle and sinew, a brutal testament to their cruel speed. Despite this, I had anticipated their attack, so the cuts avoided any vital organs. Gregory and Nina continued their relentless assault, their movements as swift as fae's.
George had discovered the twins five years ago—test subjects infused with fae blood. Few survived the procedure, most dying from their bodies' rejection of the foreign cells. Nina and Gregory were the rare exceptions, their bodies accommodating the fae blood. Yet, with their speed, they also inherited the cruelty of the fae.
The monster within me roared with pleasure as I clawed at the twins, their blood painting the grass in gruesome splashes. Each spill of blood fed its insatiable hunger. The twins' eyes, wide, reflected their realization of the monster inside me.
The more chaos erupted, the more alive the beast within me felt. I relished the sensation of blood and gore, the slick warmth of it staining my skin. The monster wanted more, hungering for the sweet, metallic taste of blood.
I wanted to paint everything red. The monster within me thrived on the carnage. Each new wound, each spurt of blood, only heightened its exhilaration. It delighted in the way the blood painted the grass, turning the ground into a horrific canvas of death.
I seized Nina's hand and slammed her against her brother. Their momentary confusion was quickly replaced by renewed aggression. I had grown accustomed to their speed, and though the difference was only millimeters, I managed to evade their attacks.
They attacked again and again, their blades flashing in the dim light, but this time I was ready. I caught Gregory's wrist mid-swing, snapping it with a vicious twist. His scream was a high-pitched, agonized wail that echoed through the clearing. Nina's eyes filled with fear as she saw her brother, the realization dawning that they were not the hunters here — they were the prey.
I turned my attention to Nina, my eyes burning with a feral hunger. The monster within me wanted to devour her, to consume her fear and flesh. She backed away, but it was too late, the next moment I was standing in front of her. She was trembling. You couldn't catch that, could you, little thing?
I could have killed her in that moment. We both knew that. But I did not. Why? Because the monster reveled in her fear and pain, the sensation of flesh tearing under my claws - so I purposefully missed her neck and tore a huge gash in her shoulder.
Gregory, despite his broken wrist, charged at me, his face twisted in a mix of rage and desperation. He swung his blade wildly, a cry of defiance escaping his lips. I caught his blade with my bare hand. The sharp edge bit into my flesh, blood spurting from the wound, but the monster within me only laughed. With a brutal yank, I pulled Gregory towards me, driving my knee into his stomach with bone-crunching force. He doubled over, retching and coughing up blood.
Indeed, something had changed.
I recalled the day I first met Willingham. Ten years had passed since then. Willingham, once regarded as one of the most talented hunters with aspirations of becoming the next Paladin, was nearing thirty — an age where the hunting business often left its practitioners behind.
He had arrived at the waiting room, an austere, blindingly white space. There was only one other person present: a small boy sitting on the floor. I hadn't looked at him even when George entered, walking towards me with soft, deliberate steps. He stopped beside me and glanced down, but I merely cast him a fleeting look. George's eyes widened slightly as he realized my identity. The door opened to reveal George's greatest rival, Dénes Roubál , my brother. Des grinned, and I jumped up, running to him.
"I did it!" Des declared, his grin widening, "I'm a Paladin!"
I was overjoyed to see him, and Des ruffled my hair. As we passed George, Des nodded, and we left the room. I could see something inside Willingham snap. His fingers clenched into fists, his teeth gritted, and his jaw tightened in a grimace of humiliation. The contempt and anger on his face were unforgettable. For George Willingham, that moment was his last chance. When the door reopened, he stepped inside to receive another meaningless medal.
It was then, in that moment of humiliation, that he vowed revenge. Over the years, he had managed to alienate the old man from us and gain his trust instead. He convinced the Crosspherat to isolate my brother because of minor transgressions and his rebellious nature.
Later, when he witnessed my rapid rise, he declared keeping me under control the top priority. Although his plan hadn't gone as expected, he was nonetheless satisfied. After all, what could hurt Des more than taking his precious little brother and confining him to an experimental cell? Yet, Des managed to turn the tables and win the family over. That's why Willingham was here again — to exact revenge on my brother.
But the silent little child with the chilling gaze but weak heart long disappeared. Only the monster he was guarding remained.
Willingham realized I had come dangerously close — my form seemed to hover for a heartbeat. Before panic could seize him, Gregory and Nina moved to protect him. I saw Gregory's sword being gripped tightly with two hands, preparing for a lethal swing. I knew he intended to decapitate me with a single, fluid motion.
The sword cleaved through the air, but in a moment no hunter would have expected, I stopped the blade with my teeth. The metallic taste of my own blood mingled with the pain, as thick streaks of blood dripped from my lips. George's face lost all color. He heard the sickening sound of steel breaking and saw my sharp, snow-white fangs.
Then I landed lightly, and with a surge of strength, I placed my hands on the twins' heads. With a forceful crack, I slammed their heads together, the sound reverberating painfully in the skulls of everyone present.
Their unconscious bodies crumpled to the ground. I took several deliberate steps toward Willingham, closing the distance between us. I wanted to kill him. The monster in me wanted to tear this insignificant bug in front of me to shreds. He knew I could have struck him down instantly. Yet, I did nothing but drape an arm around his shoulders, leaning in close to his ear.
"Keep your word, Willingham," I whispered softly, "If you break your promise when I get out, I'll tear you to shreds."
I wanted to strangle him so bad. A part of me fought to regain control. The human part, I think. The beast inside me growled in protest, craving more blood, more destruction, but I was determined to end it at that.
With a monumental effort, I closed my eyes and breathed. His fear was so sweet, it was almost intoxicating.
When I opened my eyes, the world seemed a little less red. The monster was still there, lurking just beneath the surface. I could feel its resentment, its desire to break free and continue the slaughter, but I held it back with sheer force of will.
"Kirill, Isua," Willingham began quietly, yet commandingly, "Get him, we're leaving."
Two paladins immediately stepped up to me and pulled back from Willingham. They hesitated for a moment as Tekla stepped in front of them. I raised my eyes to the woman, who said nothing, but stood at attention and saluted me.
I laughed ruefully. I felt her consciousness softly overwhelm mine. I did not protest as she pushed me into a deep dreamless sleep.