Sanathiel, wounded both physically and emotionally after his encounter with Rasen, managed to drag himself back to his hidden refuge. Every step was a stabbing reminder of his defeat. When he finally reached his room, he collapsed onto the bed, gasping as rage pulsed through his chest.
"This sucks," he growled through clenched teeth, fumbling for a vial of antibiotics.
With trembling hands, he prepared an injection and bit down on a strip of leather to keep from screaming as he pulled the shards of glass from his body. His lips quivered from exhaustion, but he couldn't afford to falter.
His body twitched violently with each shard he pulled out. No one would come. No one ever had. The only voice he heard was his own — and the beast's, whispering in his ear to survive, to endure, to rise."You will not break," he told himself, voice thick with venom. "Not now. Not yet."
Days later, fully recovered, he stood shirtless before a mirror, examining the marks left on his skin. His fists clenched, claws emerging, and with a brutal swipe he shattered the glass.
"I'll make you scream my name, Rasen. You'll writhe in agony before you die," he snarled.
Now fully healed, Sanathiel wandered through the empty halls of his mansion, searching for answers. In Noah's room, he discovered a key hidden behind the mirror.
"Not even Noah saw his death coming. I wonder if he's watching me now... from the hell he feared so much."
The discovery led him to a hidden passage, where the stench of sulfur and blood struck him immediately.
At the end of the corridor stood Falco Valuare, the hunter who had once terrorized the community. Now reduced to a ruined prisoner, he looked up when Sanathiel appeared.
"You dare set me free?" Falco rasped, his voice raw from dehydration.
Sanathiel extended a hand toward him. Falco, though weakened and bitter, still held the spark of an unrelenting hunter in his eyes.
"I'm not here to save you. I'm offering you a chance."
The sword driven into the ground beside Falco shimmered faintly, as if reacting to the tension in the air. A faint smile crept across Sanathiel's face.
"The abomination we call Rasen grows stronger every day. If you want revenge for your kin—and to keep your disciple from sharing your fate—you have no other choice."
Falco let out a bitter laugh. The days in that cell hadn't killed him, but they had stolen pieces of his soul. What remained was a hunter starving for redemption—or vengeance. Maybe both.
"I've lost track of time in here, but not of my true enemies. Even if I take your hand now, I'll never trust a beast like you. I'm not your dog, wolf."
Unfazed, Sanathiel replied,
"I don't need your trust. I only need your hatred. Use it to destroy Rasen."
The hunter stared at him with contempt. After a moment of silence, he accepted Sanathiel's hand—a gesture heavy with resentment.
"This changes nothing. Our alliance is no more than a temporary truce," Falco growled.
Sanathiel let go sharply and began walking toward the exit.
"So be it," he said without turning. "But remember this—Rasen doesn't distinguish between hunters and beasts. If we don't stop him, there'll be nothing left worth fighting for."
Falco followed, his body worn, but his eyes burning with fury. As they reached the surface, he couldn't hold back his bitterness.
"Zaira died because of you, Sanathiel. You should've been the one in her place."
Sanathiel swallowed hard. For an instant, Zaira's face — her voice, her gaze before the end — pierced his thoughts like a dagger. But the wolf within forced him to bury that guilt alongside her. He stopped in his tracks.
He saw her again — the way she had smiled before the final battle, the way her blood had stained his hands. She had believed in him, even when he had stopped believing in himself.
Still, Falco's words struck like a cold wind — but he wouldn't show weakness.
"Zaira is dead. Nothing will bring her back," he said coldly. "Her fate was sealed before I ever entered her life."
Falco scoffed.
"Don't make me laugh. She gave you everything. You betrayed her, and now you come to me like nothing ever happened?"
Sanathiel turned slowly, his gaze darkened by a storm of fury and cold calculation.
"If you want to mourn her, go ahead. But if you truly loved her—then fight. Because if your life means nothing to you, hers damn well should."
The silence that followed was thick, heavy with unresolved resentment. At last, Falco spoke.
"If you've got a plan, say it now."
Sanathiel offered a bitter smile.
"The Red Moon is returning, Falco. Get ready—because what's coming will make Zaira's death look like just the beginning."
As the two walked toward the exit, Sanathiel knew the true battle had yet to begin. But the Red Moon was rising again, and with it, the fate of all would hang in the balance.
This was only the beginning.For in the ancient texts, the Red Moon foretold extinction—not of one species, but of all.And now, it was rising once more.This time, no god or beast would be spared.