The name echoed through the chamber like a war drum, the syllables reverberating off the pulsating walls, forcing the suffocating air to stand still. For the first time since the battle had begun, the hooded figure halted. He remained still, his posture unreadable, his face concealed beneath the shadows of his hood. Though he was facing Luke's general direction, there was no indication that he was actually looking at him.
Kuro's ears flattened against his head as he took an uneasy step forward, his heavy breath shaking with tension. His golden eyes burned with disbelief as he turned toward Luke, his voice raw with frustration.
"Luke! What do you mean it's Ashtor?" he bellowed, his deep voice laced with both confusion and anger.
It was unthinkable. Kuro had always known betrayal was a possibility—the battlefield made no exceptions, and trust was a fleeting thing in Aethereon. But Ashtor? The very idea made his stomach twist. Ashtor had been a gentleman, a scholar, someone closest to Kael. He wasn't just an ally—he was one of the few Abnormals who had ever seemed... honorable. Kuro's claws twitched at his sides, itching to grip something, anything, to ground himself in the face of this accusation.
Eleanor's grip on her bow tightened. Every instinct in her screamed to take advantage of the moment, to fire while their opponent was distracted. Yet, she hesitated. Something in the air had shifted. The hooded figure—Ashtor—wanted to hear Luke's reasoning. That much was clear. She could feel it in the eerie stillness of the room, in the way the shadows clung to him like silent listeners.
If she attacked now, she might lose the only opening they'd get to understand why this was happening.
They were exhausted, worn down far more than Ashtor was. Their breathing was heavier, their reactions dulled by the endless fight through the Nexus. If there was even a sliver of a chance to drag out the confrontation and regain some stamina, she would take it.
Luke stepped forward, his expression unwavering, his gaze sharp with conviction. He leveled his weapon at the hooded figure, his voice steady despite the weight of his own words.
"Ashtor, I know it's you!" he declared, pointing at him. "There's only one person who could be under that hood—someone strong enough to hold off all three of us at once, someone respected enough to convince other Abnormals to turn against Kuro, and—most importantly—someone who knew exactly where we would be."
The tension in the air thickened. The Nexus itself seemed to pulse in anticipation, its organic walls tightening as if the chamber itself were listening.
Luke's voice remained firm as he pressed on. "Even if we assume that you found out about the Glow Gardens because we were asking questions, it still wouldn't explain how you knew we were coming here. We never told anyone about the Heart Nexus. The only people who knew were me, Eleanor, Kuro, Clara, and Ashtor." He took another step forward, the weight of his deduction pressing down on the silence. "It's not us three. And Clara—she never leaves the Abyssal Theatre. That leaves only one person."
Luke's breath was ragged as he stared at the still figure before him. "You knew about this location. You were regarded by Kuro as one of the strongest Abnormals. And you were Kael's closest friend—the only one who could command enough respect to sway others into betraying Kuro." His eyes burned with fury as he spoke the final words.
"You. Are. Ashtor."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
The only noises left were the gradual, rhythmic movements of the bony spine above them, its age-old bones creaking against one another like the ticking of a massive, invisible clock. Blood trickled continuously from the chamber's soft walls, splattering on the ground at irregular intervals, saturating the air with the odor of decay.
Then, the sound of clapping reverberated through the room.
It was slow, deliberate. Mocking.
The hooded figure raised his arms—all six of them. Three pairs of skeletal hands extended from beneath his cloak, each set moving at a different tempo, creating an unsettling cacophony of disjointed applause.
As he clapped, his fourth pair of hands moved with eerie precision, gripping the edges of his hood. With deliberate slowness, he lifted it back, revealing his face for the first time.
The sight made Eleanor's stomach churn.
His head was wrong. A mass of twisted flesh, its top carved into a grotesque V-shape as if something had gouged out the upper portion of his skull. A streak of sickly yellow stretched down the front of his face, pulsating with a faint glow—his eyes, if they could even be called that. His mouth was a jagged ruin of decayed teeth, twisted into a deformed grin. His limbs, though long and sinewy, were unsettlingly thin, as if they had been stretched far beyond their intended proportions, his skin pulled taut over skeletal fingers.
Yet despite the horrific mutation, the recognition was instant.
There was no mistaking it.
It was Ashtor.
"I must congratulate you," his voice rang out, deep and unhurried, tinged with a patronizing amusement. "I never expected a chitter-monkey such as yourself to be capable of such deduction. It seems I've been away from you animals for too long—ten years, was it?"
Luke's brain screeched to a halt.
Chitter-monkey?
What the hell does that even mean?
Of all the things Ashtor could have said, all the grand declarations he could have made, that was what he chose? Luke blinked rapidly, his mind scrambling to process the insult. I mean, first off, Kuro literally looks way more like an animal than I do! He's a giant wolf-man! And even if Ashtor is trying to be degrading, "chitter-monkey?" Really? What am I supposed to do with that?
For a split second, Luke considered firing back with an insult of his own, but his mind came up empty. Best I've got is something about him looking like a melted candle, but does that even compare?
Kuro's voice suddenly erupted, shattering Luke's thoughts.
"ASHTOR!" His roar was filled with raw fury, his entire body trembling with rage. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! WHY ARE YOU BETRAYING ABNORMALS?"
For the first time, Ashtor's amused expression faltered. His jaw clenched, and his glowing streak of an eye narrowed in something that could only be described as pure contempt.
"Kuro…" His voice dripped with venom, each syllable laced with a loathing so visceral it felt like it could corrode the air itself. "You're the wretched bastard—teaming up with a human."
His words turned into a snarl as he lunged forward, his blade slicing through the air with a speed that caught even Kuro off guard.
The attack was too fast.
Kuro's body tensed. He was still in his strength form, and he knew he wouldn't be able to dodge in time. The realization hit him like a hammer—he was about to take the full force of Ashtor's strike.
But then—
Whoosh!
An arrow tore through the air, its flight swift and precise. Eleanor had been waiting. She had been ready.
Ashtor's body shimmered just before impact. The arrow should have struck him, but it phased through instead, passing harmlessly through his chest and embedding itself into the fleshy wall behind him.
He landed on the other side of Kuro, his face twisting with fury as he turned to glare at Eleanor.
And in that moment, all three of them saw it.
The flicker. The briefest moment of revelation.
The weakness.