Outside, the air was cool but tense. Mr. Jenkins, still pale and clutching his side where the creature had slashed him, was leaning heavily on Rachel, who held him steady. Emma stayed close by, eyes wide and trembling, trying to process what had just happened.
The estate's staff had gathered on the road leading to the mansion, faces pale and anxious. Standing at the front were Lord Mervyn Landcaster and Lady Evaline Landcaster, their expressions tight with worry. Around them, a squad of police officers and armed guards waited, their weapons at the ready.
As Jenkins, Rachel, Emma, and the others emerged from the mansion, the crowd shifted uneasily. Lord Mervyn stepped forward.
"Thank God you're safe," he said quickly, voice low but firm. "What exactly happened inside? What did you see?"
Before anyone could answer, a terrifying roar ripped through the air, echoing off the stone walls and far beyond the estate grounds. Heads snapped up, and the guards instantly went on high alert, hands tightening on their weapons.
Emma gasped, clutching Rachel's arm tightly.
"It's still inside," Rachel said quietly, eyes darting toward the mansion's shadowed entrance.
Mr. Jenkins winced as he tried to steady his breathing. "It's not an animal," he said hoarsely. "Not any creature I've ever known. Something unnatural… and dangerous."
Lord Mervyn's jaw clenched, his gaze hardening. "Then we must act quickly. This place isn't safe."
Emma looked back toward the mansion, fear written all over her young face. "What about Mr Ashrith? Is he okay?"
"Arsa's still inside," Jenkins said grimly. "He's holding the creature off—for now."
Lady Evaline's eyes narrowed. "We can't let that thing escape. It could kill anyone—anywhere."
One of the officers stepped forward. "We have reinforcements on the way, Lord Landcaster. We'll secure the perimeter and prepare to flush it out."
Mr. Jenkins straightened as best as he could. "We need to trust Arsa. He has the ability to control the wind—he's using that to keep the creature at bay."
Lord Mervyn nodded slowly. "Then we wait. But we must be ready to intervene the moment Arsa needs help."
The roar sounded again—closer this time—sending a shiver through the crowd.
Inside the great hall, the fight had become a deadly dance of speed and fury. Arsa darted backward, narrowly avoiding the beast's savage claws. His revolver was empty—every bullet spent in desperation—and his heart pounded in his chest.
His left hand throbbed sharply where the monster had slashed him, but he gritted his teeth and didn't let go. Just then, his eyes caught sight of a straight sword hanging beneath the large portrait of Lady Landcaster—her blue hair and red eyes staring down as if daring him to act.
With a surge of will, Arsa lunged toward the sword and gripped its hilt firmly.
This has to work. I can't let this thing win.
The creature charged again, faster than before, and Arsa barely raised the sword in time. The beast's claws raked across his left hand, searing pain shooting through his fingers, but he held tight, refusing to drop the weapon.
With every ounce of strength, Arsa slashed the sword deep into the creature's stomach.
The beast snarled, staggering back, but the wound barely slowed it.
That didn't even faze it.
Arsa's breath was ragged. He knew this wasn't an ordinary beast. It was something else—something darker, stronger.
If this sword can't stop it, what hope do I have?
His eyes flicked around the hall, searching for anything, any advantage. The creature's glowing eyes locked onto him again, and a low growl rumbled in its throat.
I have to keep fighting. For Jenkins. For Emma and Rachel. For everyone outside.
The beast surged forward, claws raised high, ready to strike again.
Arsa tightened his grip, ready for whatever came next.
Because giving up was not an option.
Both Arsa and the monster lunged at each other with fierce determination. The beast charged with brutal speed, claws aimed to tear through him. But Arsa moved swiftly, channeling the power within him.
With a sharp motion, he summoned a powerful gust of wind, propelling himself forward faster than the creature expected. Using the momentum, Arsa swung the sword and managed to slice through the monster's two left legs.
The beast let out a guttural roar and collapsed onto the floor, its body trembling from the blow.
Arsa glanced back, heart pounding.
But then, something impossible happened.
The monster's legs began to twitch, flesh knitting itself back together. The wounds closed up before his eyes, the skin healing as if nothing had happened.
It stood up again, completely regenerated—stronger, terrifying.
Arsa's grip on the sword tightened. His mind raced, disbelief written across his face.
"What the—?" he whispered, voice barely audible.
The creature fixed its glowing eyes on him once more, and the fight was far from over.
The creature let out an enraged, guttural howl and charged—its speed faster, more refined, as if it had adapted to Arsa's movements.
Arsa's eyes narrowed. "Damn thing's quicker than before…" he muttered, raising his hand and releasing a burst of wind to push the beast back. The sudden gust threw debris across the hall, momentarily slowing the monster down.
But it didn't stay still for long.
Without warning, it vanished.
Arsa's breath hitched. His gaze darted around. "Where—"
A faint ripple in the air caught his eye. On his right side, something shimmered like light reflecting off a broken mirror. From that warped space, the monster reemerged, lunging with disturbing precision.
His reaction was too late.
The beast's massive jaws clamped down on Arsa's right arm. Pain shot through him as its teeth dug deep into flesh and bone. He let out a strained cry as the monster whipped its head and flung him across the hall like a ragdoll.
His body slammed against one of the stone pillars with a heavy thud. The impact knocked the air out of his lungs. He coughed violently, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth. The sword slipped from his hand and clattered across the floor.
Still, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to sit up, eyes locking on the monster again.
It was walking toward him. Slowly. Confidently. As if it knew the fight was over.
Arsa's breath came in short gasps. His right arm hung limp, his shoulder throbbing. Wind circled faintly around him, reacting to his fear and will.
The beast stopped right in front of him. Its claws gleamed in the pale moonlight seeping through the broken windows above.
Then, with a growl that rumbled through the air like thunder, it raised its massive claw high above its head, poised to strike.
Arsa could do nothing but stare up at the creature, dazed, wounded, yet defiant.
And then—
[To Be Continued…]