Itekan lay broken in a pool of his own blood.
A massive stake, forged from blood itself, pierced through his chest. His arms and legs were staked to the ground like a lowly thief being made an example of.
"Why… why do you hate me?" Itekan asked weakly, gazing up at the figure towering over him—Aitken.
"Hate?" Aitken chuckled, twirling a blood spike in his hand. "That's generous. I wouldn't say I hate you. I just grew up being taught to despise you and your father. So... here we are."
"But we did nothing to your people," Itekan muttered.
Aitken only shrugged, offering no further explanation.
"Do you know what this is?" he asked, raising the blood spike. "I call it a Heartstop. It's made by infusing my blood into your body, and your blood into this spike—mixed with more of mine. When I crush it…" Aitken grinned darkly, "guess what goes pop?"
Itekan clenched his jaw as the stake above his chest twisted deeper into his healing heart. His shadow system fought to repair him, but the cycle of healing and re-damage created a torment beyond imagining—like walking barefoot on molten coals forever. Still, he refused to scream. He wouldn't give Aitken the satisfaction.
"Wow. That's some serious willpower," Aitken said, slowly pressing the spike. It hovered inches from detonation.
"AARRRGHHHH!!"
The scream finally escaped Itekan's lips.
"St-stop!" he cried out, voice shattered and trembling. "Please…"
"Just for good measure," Aitken whispered, pressing the spike again.
Itekan shook violently. The pain eclipsed everything else—the stakes in his limbs were forgotten. His mind faded. Consciousness slipped. He passed out.
"You can come out now," Aitken said casually, turning toward the trees.
A figure emerged—Avery.
But Avery no longer looked pained. He seemed… calm. Too calm.
"How's it looking over there?" Aitken asked.
"Most are dead. They didn't notice," Avery said, pulling something from his pocket. It was a red, pear-shaped object, half-eaten, lined with razor-sharp teeth.
"Aaron kept it with him until the end. His sacrifice won't be forgotten."
"Pfft. Sacrifice?" Aitken scoffed. "Aaron was an idiot. He shouldn't have kept it on him. Anyone could've carried it and it wouldn't have mattered."
"Tsk." Avery hissed in annoyance.
The object was one of Aitken's creations—Blood Viagra. Its scent was like alcohol to demon beasts, attracting them in swarms. That was the real reason they were ambushed in the dungeon.
"Whatever. When are they getting here?" Avery asked.
"They're already here," Aitken replied. "Cleaning up loose ends."
Then, suddenly, Aitken's expression turned cold. With a sharp flick, blood pins launched toward Avery at near-sound speed.
Avery barely dodged, flipping backward. "What the hell?!"
"I'm taking care of the loose ends."
"What?! We had a deal! I distracted the instructors, you helped me kill my bastard father! Why are you turning on me now?!"
"I'm bored," Aitken said with a lazy shrug. "Couldn't care less."
"We swore a blood oath!"
"You mean this?" Aitken sneered.
From his chest, a patch of different-colored blood coagulated and began protruding. Aitken gripped it—and pulled. It was connected directly to his heart. With one gruesome motion, he tore it out.
Thud.
The heart—still squirming—fell to the ground, then burst into crimson flames, burning both itself and the blood oath to ash.
Yet Aitken stood unaffected, the gaping hole in his chest meaningless.
"H-how?" Avery whispered in horror.
"I control blood," Aitken said. "When it's in my body, it's even easier. I can send it anywhere it's needed."
He stepped forward. "So… are you going to fight? Or should I just kill you now?"
The tattoo under his left eye gleamed red in the twilight.
---
Meanwhile…
Near the edge of the Yellow Zone…
Kutote didn't know why he carried Flocker. Logic screamed he should've left him. But something inside refused.
Damn that purple-haired kid, he thought, lowering Flocker beneath a tree.
He had done his best to stop the bleeding, but Flocker had lost an entire arm. He might never fully recover—physically or mentally.
Flocker thrashed, his face a fiery red, groaning and mumbling incomprehensibly.
Kutote stayed by his side all day. But when midnight came, he was jolted awake by Flocker's scream.
His arm… it was regrowing.
But not normally.
The new limb was brown, thick, hairy—and growing grotesquely fast.
"Pl-plea… kee-l miie…" Flocker begged through gasps.
Kutote watched in horror. Flocker's SST twisted unnaturally, his SE flowing in reverse. The bear's energy had infected him, forcing his body into monstrous overgrowth.
If even a stump had remained, maybe he could've amputated again, expelling the SE through fresh blood. But it was too late. He had sealed the wound earlier—unknowingly dooming him.
"Pl-plea… kee-l miie…" Flocker begged again, tears streaming down his misshapen face.
Kutote had killed before. To survive.
But this? This was different.
Flocker's body swelled grotesquely, and then—with a wet, sickening pop—he exploded.
Kutote was blasted back. His face and body drenched in blood and viscera.
He sat frozen, in shock, too broken to mourn. But before long, howls filled the air.
Grade D Flame Wolves.
He ran.
---
Elsewhere…
Red Zone, Deep Nightfall…
Aitken stood calmly, blood tentacles suspending both a dying Avery and an unconscious Itekan.
Itekan's wounds were mostly healed, but Aitken's blood spike still burrowed into his heart—keeping him in limbo, unable to recover fully.
He was waiting.
They're late, he thought.
Two figures arrived. Both wore Academy robes. One carried Ro-El's corpse. The other nursed a stomach wound where a dark void festered.
"Sorry, 12th Apostle," the first one said, bowing.
"He was stronger than we thought," the other added.
Aitken's glare sharpened. "What about Tommy?"
"He's on his way. Handling the last witness."
"Good. We don't have all night."
A black crow fluttered down onto Aitken's shoulder, a red eye gleaming. Its body bore a three-headed snake emblem: one head low, one high and proud, and the third behind them—its jaws wide open, as if ready to consume them both.
Thud.
Tommy landed next, carrying an unconscious Keel Kun. His throat had been slit—but not a drop of blood spilled.
"He's not dying," Tommy reported.
"Tsk. Bring him. We're leaving before the Legend Kime finds us."
The crow cawed. A swirling portal opened from the mouth of the snake tattoo, pulling them in.
Just then, someone stumbled into the clearing.
Kutote.
His eyes widened with horror as he saw Itekan.
Memories of Flocker flashed through his mind.
"LET HIM GO!" he screamed, charging blindly.
But it was too late.
Aitken's sadistic smile was the last thing Kutote saw before the portal vanished completely.
Spiritual Energy -- SE
Spritual Sea -- SS
Spiritual Signatures -- SST