His mind kept circling the same question, over and over, searching for an answer. He couldn't let Renrou stay like this, trapped in this horrific form. But no matter how much he thought, no matter how desperately he tried to grasp at solutions, all he felt was helplessness. A sinking, suffocating helplessness.
Nicolas's eyes flickered toward Garen, who had fallen to one knee, blood still seeping from the wound on his side. The old man's breath was labored, his chest rising and falling in slow, painful heaves. His broad shoulders trembled, but not from the injury. There was something deeper, more heart-wrenching in his movements.
Garen's eyes were fixed on the Wesen, the wolf-like creature with glowing eyes. But unlike Nicolas's gaze, which was filled with frantic hope, Garen's eyes were heavy with grief. Silent tears trickled down his weathered face, streaking through the dirt and blood that covered his skin. His hands trembled as he clutched his side, but it wasn't the pain of his physical wound that made him weep. It was the pain of seeing his son—his beloved son—reduced to this monstrous state.
He knew. He knew.
There was no coming back from this. Not for Renrou. The transformation into a Wesen—especially one so complete—was a death sentence. It was irreversible. The boy he had raised, the boy he had loved, was gone. The creature standing before him wasn't Renrou anymore. It was something else, something primal, driven by rage and instinct.
Garen's heart shattered, but he didn't say a word. He couldn't. His grief was too deep, too raw. All he could do was sit in silence and watch his son, the boy who was now beyond his reach.
Outside, the village was eerily quiet. The villagers had heard the clash, the savage sounds of the battle that had torn through their small homes. But now, with the fighting stopped, a sigh of collective relief passed through the air. People peered cautiously from behind their windows and doors, but none dared to step outside. Fear still gripped them, holding them in place like ghosts, their breaths hushed and anxious. They waited, hoping the worst was over but too scared to disturb the silence.
Inside the small, shattered room, Nicolas remained frozen, his mind a storm of thoughts and emotions. His eyes never left Renrou, but the longer he stared, the more helpless he felt. His power—this strange, unfamiliar force he had just discovered—had stopped Renrou, but it had also shown him something terrifying. His best friend was lost, consumed by the beast within.
' i can't lose him. Not like this.
But as much as Nicolas wished to help, to bring Renrou back to his human form, his mind hit a wall. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't think of a way to save his friend. The helplessness clawed at him, gnawing at his resolve. And then, as if in response to his rising unease, something strange happened.
The power that had surged through Nicolas earlier began to stir once more, but this time it felt different—more chaotic, less controlled. It swelled within him, and before he could stop it, it extended outward, reaching toward Renrou like invisible tendrils of energy. Nicolas's breath caught in his throat as his mental power connected with the Wesen, diving deep into the creature's mind.
Suddenly, the world around him shifted. Nicolas found himself standing in an endless black space. The void stretched on in every direction, empty and cold. In the middle of the darkness, Renrou stood with his eyes closed, his body still. His human form—his true self—was trapped here, inside this prison of shadow.
Nicolas's heart pounded as he approached his friend. Renrou. He called out in his mind, hoping—praying—that he could reach him.
"Wake up. Please."
At first, there was no response. But then, slowly, Renrou's eyes opened. He looked around, confused, as if waking from a long, dark sleep. His face was pale, his expression filled with a mix of fear and bewilderment.
"Where am I?" Renrou's voice trembled, barely above a whisper. "What's happening?"
Nicolas's chest tightened. He could see the terror in his friend's eyes, the raw, unfiltered fear. Renrou looked down at his hands—his claws—and gasped. His body stiffened, panic setting in as he realized the monstrous form he had taken. Despair washed over him like a tidal wave, and he clutched his head, shaking it frantically.
"No… no… this can't be real…"
"It is, but we can figure this out," Nicolas said, his voice steady but filled with urgency. He could feel Renrou's panic growing, threatening to consume him. "Renrou, listen to me. You're still you. I'm here. We'll find a way through this."
But Renrou's eyes were wide with terror, his breathing ragged. "I'm a monster… I… I can't… there's no coming back from this, is there?"
Nicolas's heart sank. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know if there was a way to reverse the transformation. But seeing his best friend on the verge of breaking, he couldn't let him fall into despair. "I don't know," Nicolas admitted softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm not giving up on you. We'll figure it out, together."
As he spoke, Nicolas felt his mental power slowly retreat from Renrou's mind, pulling back as if responding to his own emotions. The connection faded, and Nicolas found himself once again standing in the broken room, the stillness settling over them like a suffocating blanket.
Renrou's monstrous form stood motionless, but his eyes—glowing faintly—held a flicker of recognition. It was brief, but it was there.
Garen, still kneeling on the floor, watched in stunned silence. His heart ached with grief, but a small glimmer of hope ignited in the depths of his sorrow. Maybe—just maybe—there was a chance to bring his son back.
Outside, the village remained quiet, the Blood Moon still casting its crimson light over the world. Inside the room, three souls stood at the edge of an impossible battle—one of mind, one of heart, and one of monstrous transformation.