The border wall trembled as a shadow fell from the sky like a meteor of pure destruction.
CRASH
Javrian's landing sent spider-web cracks racing through the ancient stone fortifications, the impact so violent that dust and debris erupted in all directions.
The massive wall, which had stood for centuries as the Empire's greatest defense, groaned under the force.
Imperial soldiers stationed along the ramparts stumbled, their weapons clattering as the entire structure shook beneath their feet.
"What in the—"
"LOOK THERE!"
Through the settling dust, a figure rose slowly from the crater he'd created. Javrian's silver eye blazed with something far more terrifying than killing intent—pure, self-directed fury that made the very air around him feel suffocating.
His scarred face was a mask of devastation, Luna's words echoing in his mind like a death knell:
'You are no better than Victor!'
'YOU ARE WORSE THAN HIM!'
The soldiers, battle-hardened men who had faced countless enemies, felt their legs turn to water.
Simply because they instantly recognized that man. The torn, wet trousers, the body covered in hundreds of scars, the face bearing a scar, the silver eyes, and the hair that covered it, along with the aura that made even the air feel suffocating.
This wasn't the controlled predator they'd heard whispered about in fearful stories.
This was something broken, something that wanted to destroy everything—including itself.
"S-sound the alarm! It's Javrian!" one soldier stammered, recognizing the nightmare of the whole Empire, but his voice died as that silver gaze swept over them.
Javrian's left hand clenched into a fist so tight his knuckles went white.
His right arm hung loose at his side, deliberately unused.
'If I'm the monster she says I am… then I'll fight like one.' With restraint torn away, with mercy buried, with only rage and self-loathing as his guides.
"Attack formation!" The captain's voice cracked as he raised his sword. "Protect the wall!"
They came at him in waves—spears thrusting, swords slashing, arrows whistling through the air.
Javrian didn't dodge.
The first spear punched through his shoulder, tearing muscle and scraping bone. He felt the cold steel pierce him, felt his blood begin to flow—'Good. This is what monsters deserve.'
His left hand shot out, fingers wrapping around the spear shaft.
With a casual twist, he snapped the weapon in half before his fist drove forward, caving in the soldier's chest plate like paper.
CRACK
Ribs shattered. The man's scream cut off in a wet gurgle as he flew backward into the wall with bone-crushing force.
More weapons found their mark—a sword blade scraped along his ribs, opening a gash that immediately began weeping crimson.
An arrow buried itself in his thigh.
Another spear point grazed his neck, missing his jugular by inches.
Each wound should have slowed him down. Instead, they seemed to fuel him.
'This pain is nothing compared to what I put her through.'
Javrian moved through the soldiers like a force of nature given human form. His left fist pulverized armor, shattered weapons, and turned men into broken dolls that flew through the air trailing blood.
He grabbed one soldier by the throat, lifting him effortlessly as two more attacked from behind. Their blades bit deep into his back, but Javrian only squeezed harder until the man's neck snapped with a sound like breaking kindling.
'Luna was right. I am a monster.'
A crossbow bolt punched through his left shoulder.
He looked down at the protruding steel, then grabbed the bolt and yanked it free, ignoring the spray of blood that followed.
Using the bolt like a dagger, he drove it through the nearest soldier's eye.
The battle—if it could even be called that—became a massacre painted in crimson and punctuated by screams.
Javrian let them hurt him, welcomed their steel, 'Crave it. Need it. Let it prove she was right.'
But for every wound they gave him, he returned tenfold in death.
His left hand was a weapon of pure destruction. It punched through shields, crushed skulls, and tore through armor like it was made of parchment.
Blood—his own and theirs—painted him from head to toe, but still he fought on.
'She looked at me like I was Victor. Like I was the man who hurt her.'
The thought sent fresh rage coursing through him. His left fist connected with a soldier's face, and the man's head simply… vanished in a spray of red mist.
Soon, the screaming stopped.
Javrian stood alone among the carnage, bodies scattered around him like broken toys. The border wall was painted red, slick with blood that dripped from stone to stone in a steady rhythm.
But one soldier still moved—barely alive, crawling toward his fallen sword with desperate, shaking hands.
Something inside Javrian snapped completely.
He walked over to the dying man, his left hand already clenched into a fist. The soldier looked up with terror-filled eyes, mouth opening to beg for mercy.
Javrian's punch drove the man's skull into the stone wall.
BOOM
And again.
BOOM
The ancient stone cracked. Mortar fell like rain.
BOOM
'Monster.'
BOOM
'Worse than Victor.'
BOOM
'Don't deserve to love someone.'
BOOM
Each punch sent shockwaves through the wall. His left hand, already torn and bleeding from the countless impacts, began to crack.
Bones splintered. Skin split.
But his wolf nature immediately began healing the damage, only for the next punch to break it again.
An endless cycle of destruction and regeneration that matched the war raging in his soul.
But scars of deep wounds were still being left behind on his skin.
BOOM
The wall section collapsed entirely, ancient stones tumbling into the valley below with thunderous crashes.
Still, Javrian kept punching, kept trying to break the hand that had touched Luna, kept trying to destroy the part of him that had dared to hope.
BOOM
BOOM
BOOM
Finally, when his fist was nothing but pulverized bone held together by rapidly healing flesh, he stopped.
The entire main wall of the border town lay in ruins. Bodies were scattered like fallen leaves. Blood pooled in the cracks between broken stones.
And Javrian stood at the center of it all, breathing heavily as his wounds slowly closed and his shattered hand rebuilt itself bone by bone.
He stared out at the vast wilderness beyond—the land where monsters like him belonged, far from innocent people who deserved better than his darkness.
His voice, when it came, was barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of absolute conviction:
"Indeed… monsters like me don't deserve to love someone."