Ember 23, 2999 | 7:24 AM – Lena's Reinforced Training Dojo
The glyphs on the floor surged, humming with arcane pressure. The walls had sealed themselves shut. Steam and energy danced together like spirits preparing a storm.
Shiro stood still—shoulders loose, posture relaxed—but his eyes were locked in.
The Stalker came first. Fast.
Shiro spun, ducked under the first slash, then leaned into it—letting the claw skim his skin, just barely. He struck forward with an elbow to its midsection, but this time, the damn thing bent backward unnaturally and flipped over him, landing on all fours.
"Slippery little bastard," Shiro muttered, adjusting.
Then came The Mauler. No finesse. Just raw weight and momentum.
It charged in from Shiro's right with a roar, fists glowing with heat.
Shiro dropped low, rolled between its legs, and clawed up its spine with his gauntlets. Sparks and chunks of armor flew as the beast groaned.
The Seraph descended like lightning. He felt her before he saw her—those light wings humming, those curved blades flashing.
She's timing me off their attacks… smart girl.
He raised both gauntlets to block—barely catching her twin strikes—but the moment her steel kissed his metal, she spun. Midair. Twisting his balance, redirecting him toward the incoming blade of—
The Hellborne.
Shiro reacted fast—tucked his chin, took the hit to the shoulder instead of his neck. He flipped backward off the force and grinned midair.
Blood trickled from the corner of his lip. His arm stung. His bones ached.
And he loved it.
⸻
⚔️ Shiro's Style Starts to Shift
The air crackled. His breath slowed. His movements changed.
He wasn't just dodging anymore.
He was studying.
Every slash. Every movement. Every twitch of muscle and magic. His body began adjusting on its own.
His footwork tightened. His angles sharpened.
What was once wild and feral became—refined.
Controlled chaos.
His beast instincts merged with something new. Something deadly.
He let the Seraph strike again—this time, stepping in instead of away. Her blade glanced off his shoulder, but he gripped her wrist mid-spin, flipped her using her own momentum, and slammed her into the Mauler's charging chest.
Two down—at least for a second.
⸻
💀 Then The Echo Moved
No sound.
No windup.
Just sudden pressure.
Shiro felt the shift in his gut before he saw it.
The Echo was already behind him.
Shiro turned—barely in time—and blocked the strike.
The force? Insane.
The Echo fought like him—but tighter. Faster. Cleaner. It had his style without the mistakes. No wasted motion. No extra flair.
Shiro was forced to backpedal, using every instinct he had to avoid a flurry of primal strikes and spinning kicks. The Echo mirrored his gauntlets. His speed. Even his feints.
"Cute," Shiro spat. "But you ain't me."
He dropped low, shoulder-rolled past a vertical slash, and delivered a rising uppercut to the Echo's chin—only for it to tilt its head unnaturally, dodging mid-impact, and backhand him across the room.
Shiro slammed into the far wall, skidding along the rune tiles.
He stood up, breathing hard… laughing.
"Okay, okay… now I'm pissed."
⸻
🔥 The Turning Point
He closed his eyes.
Felt the sting in his ribs. The blood in his mouth. The static in his bones.
The relic embedded in his gauntlet pulsed—one slow beat.
Not overwhelming. Just enough.
Enough to heighten. To sharpen.
Shiro exhaled—and when his eyes opened, they were brighter than before.
Gold, laced with streaks of deep crimson.
The next exchange was a blur.
He weaved under the Hellborne's greatsword, kicked off the Mauler's knee, spun midair and slammed both feet into the Seraph's chest.
He used her body to bounce forward—raking his claws into The Stalker's leg and flipping it over his shoulder.
Then turned to face The Echo.
No more dodging.
He attacked.
Fast.
His strikes came like a hurricane—wild, fluid, grounded in instinct but now laced with intent. A predator who'd learned rhythm. A storm with teeth.
Each time the Echo blocked, Shiro adjusted. Each time it mimicked, Shiro shifted. Step by step, inch by inch—he was reclaiming his style from the mimic.
Until he struck low—
Then fainted high—
Then pivoted into a backhand elbow so sharp, it shattered The Echo's mask.
The force launched the mimic into the reinforced wall.
Silence.
One by one, the other golems tried to recover… but they were slow now. Hesitant. They didn't know how to keep up anymore.
Shiro did.
He stalked forward, flexing his fingers.
"Y'all was made to break me," he said. "Instead… you made me sharper."
He crouched low, hands spread like claws.
"Now I'm gonna return the favor."
The room went dark.
⸻
Chapter 24 – Built for the Beast (cont'd)
Ember 23, 2999 | 7:50 AM – Lena's Mansion, Dining Hall
The aroma of honey-glazed meat, fresh biscuits, and roasted root vegetables filled the estate's sunlit breakfast wing. Magic flame-crystals flickered above the long table, casting soft golden warmth across the food and silverware.
Grakka slumped into a chair, yawning, hair tied up messily with a band of leather. "Why the hell my back sore like I got tackled by a house?"
Zarrah, already sipping her tea, smirked. "Because you did, love."
Lena entered next, in a silken robe that didn't even pretend to be modest. Her platinum hair was tied loosely, her expression sharp but still laced with post-debauch glow.
Rena was already at the table, serving fresh fruit and blushing furiously. She hadn't spoken a word since they arrived—too busy chewing the inside of her cheek and avoiding eye contact.
Then a maid walked by whispering to another.
Lena's sharp ears twitched.
"…Wait. What did you just say?"
The maid froze. "O-oh! Um… j-just that Master Shiro passed us this morning."
Grakka blinked. "Already up?"
The maid nodded, eyes wide. "He was… um… very naked. Walked right through the hall like a god."
Rena choked on her drink.
Lena stood slowly, head tilting. "He what?"
The door opened.
Shiro strolled in, towel over his shoulder, shirtless again, hair damp from a post-fight rinse. His body still steamed slightly.
"Morning," he said, casually grabbing a cup of water.
Lena crossed her arms. "So. You just walked through my hall. Fully exposed. In front of my staff."
Shiro blinked, then smiled like the damn devil.
"Oh—yeah. My bad. Didn't wanna wake y'all."
Grakka burst out laughing, nearly dropping a biscuit. Zarrah hid her smirk behind her teacup.
Lena wasn't amused. "You were bare."
"I was considerate."
"You traumatized my maid staff."
Rena coughed. "Not traumatized."
Everyone looked at her.
She froze. "I-I mean! It's fine! Really!"
Shiro winked. "See? We all healing in different ways."
⸻
8:20 AM – Mansion Interrogation Room (Soundproof Chamber)
The captured Sable Wing twin sat bound to a reinforced arcane chair, her wrists locked by rune-silver cuffs. Her face was bruised but clean. She'd been given water, food, even a fresh outfit… but hadn't spoken since the night before.
The door creaked.
Shiro stepped in, clean, shirtless again, but in fresh training pants. He dragged a chair across the room and sat directly in front of her.
She looked up at him.
Paused.
Blink.
"…You're… different now."
Shiro tilted his head. "That good or bad?"
She hesitated.
"…You're actually handsome."
Shiro grinned, showing just a bit of fang. "Aww. You flirtin'?"
Her blush said everything, but her glare returned quickly. "I'm not telling you anything."
He leaned back in the chair, exaggerated sigh.
"Alright. I didn't wanna do this. But you leave me no choice."
He clapped once.
The door opened.
Rena wheeled in a cart.
Filled with… condiments.
Hot sauce. Pickled mushroom jam. Peanut butter. A jar labeled "slime syrup."
Rena whispered, "You sure about this, Master?"
"Oh yeah."
He picked up a spoon.
"Now," he said, turning to the elf, "let me explain somethin'… I hate peanut butter. So if I gotta smell this crap, you're gonna suffer with me."
Her eyes widened. "You wouldn't."
"Oh, I would. Unless you like slime syrup in your hair."
The elf blinked. "You're deranged."
Shiro grinned. "Baby girl, I ain't even started yet."
7:53 AM – Ember Sector | Rooftops Above Lower Cirrus
The surviving twin ran barefoot across slate rooftops, hood drawn low over silver hair now stained with dirt and dried blood. Her steps were silent, but her breaths came quick. Desperate.
She didn't know where she was heading.
She just knew one thing:
She had to find her sister.
They never separated.
Not since the alleys they were born in. Not through the Choir's training. Not through missions, kills, scars, or even the war-beast augmentations.
But now?
Now her sister was… gone. Taken. Left behind.
And it burned.
It wasn't rage. It was deeper than that.
It was grief that hadn't bloomed yet.
She'd circled the perimeter of the facility twice. Nothing. Not a trace. Not a body. The techs were gone. The scent of blood still lingered, but not hers.
And worse…
She could feel her.
Their blood-link still pulsed faintly. Weak. Caged. Not broken.
It meant she was alive.
She stumbled against a chimney, trembling. Her body ached from her wounds, but her spirit hurt more.
For the first time in years… she felt abandoned.
And if the Choir wouldn't go back for her sister—
She would.
Even if she had to kill every one of them to do it.
⸻
8:40AM – Lena's Mansion | Private Lab Chamber
"Okay, so… hear me out."
Dez leaned over a projection pad, goggles perched on his forehead, holding a half-melted relic shard.
Shiro stood shirtless behind him, arms crossed. Lena sat nearby, arms folded, eyebrow raised.
Zarrah and Grakka were in the background, eating fruit while trying to follow the chaos.
Dez pointed at a 3D model of Shiro's gauntlet, rotating it slowly.
"This isn't just some power battery. It's a binding conduit. See these runes? Ancient. Pre-Wild Spine era. My theory? It's not feeding power into you. It's amplifying what's already there."
Shiro blinked. "Meaning?"
"Meaning that relic ain't the power source. You are."
Grakka blinked. "Then what the hell's the point of the relic?"
"It's like a blood prism," Dez said, eyes lighting up. "It reflects and mutates primal energy. Beastmen weren't supposed to be able to contain that level of surge—until now. Your body's evolving around it. Adapting."
Lena frowned. "But why him?"
Dez smirked. "That's the fun part. I think the relic recognized him. Like… bonded to something in his bloodline."
Shiro raised an eyebrow. "You sayin' I'm related to a god or somethin'?"
Dez shrugged. "Not a god. But maybe… something they used to fear."
Shiro just grinned.
⸻
9:00 AM – Duskhaven Central Enforcement HQ | Officer Alke's Office
Alke stood before her caseboard, arms crossed. Her tall frame was wrapped in a black open-collar uniform jacket, and her curly hair was still damp from the rain earlier. Her eyes burned with focus.
Photos.
Smashed relic sites. Scarred marble. Arcane blast zones. Cross-referenced symbols from the Choir's underground networks.
In the center?
A blurred image of Shiro Connelly walking shirtless through Duskhaven after the first Choir takedown. The bounty flier beside it. Claw marks circled in red ink.
She tapped the photo.
"You're connected to all of this."
She turned to her holo-slate and reviewed her notes. The rogue bounty. The unexplained strength. The missing relics. The facility wreckage. Gheron Vale's presence.
Shiro wasn't just in the storm.
He was the eye of it.
"I'll find you," she said, her voice low with purpose.
And this time… she wasn't just curious.
She was intrigued.