»The calm before the storm is often the loudest of all.«
Don.
He lay in the wet grass,
his body twisted like a broken doll.
His limbs bent at unnatural angles —
skin glistening in the moonlight,
slick with sweat and blood.
It was hard to tell whether he was still breathing.
Shuzo stared at him, his heart pounding —
but he was too young, too inexperienced.
He couldn't check,
not like his father —
with those senses that could hear a heartbeat
even amid the chaos of war.
All he had
was this image before him:
the motionless body of his best friend.
And that image tore him apart from the inside.
No—
"You demons really are like vermin."
Nebruel's voice crawled through the night.
His lips curved into a smile —
cold, almost indulgent.
"Crawling on every filthy planet you can find… disgusting."
He didn't speak loudly.
Not threateningly.
The horror lay precisely in how casually he said it —
as if he were talking about the weather.
Every word sounded like an immutable law of nature.
Shuzo lifted his head.
Tears clung to his lashes,
mucus glinting faintly in the dark.
His face was smeared, blurred by mud and dirt.
He didn't understand.
"What— what do you want from us?"
His voice was fragile, a whisper barely finding its way out of his throat.
"Why did you do that?"
Nebruel's gaze stayed fixed on him — disdainful.
He ignored the words completely.
"Don't tell me that was supposed to be your mighty protector?"
His white eyes gleamed unnaturally in the light of the moons,
as if the situation itself amused him.
"What misery…"
His tone shifted.
It became coaxing — almost gentle —
and that made it all the crueler.
"Answer me… and maybe I'll let him live."
The corner of his mouth twitched.
The air itself seemed to grow heavier, thicker.
Shuzo gasped, wiping frantically at his face —
but the tears wouldn't stop.
Hopeless.
"But— but I really told you everything!
I don't know anyone who looks like that!"
The sobs trembled helplessly in his small chest,
each breath a blow against his ribs.
So naïve.
He didn't see the game.
Not yet.
"Damn…"
Nebruel sighed — cold, theatrical.
A performance of malice.
"Didn't I mention how the rules work?"
His chin lifted,
his lips twitched —
a suppressed grin.
"Either you give me an answer I want to hear…"
His fingers curled.
A sinister cracking of joints echoed through the air.
Slowly, his bent fingers leveled toward Donovan.
"…or I'll kill him."
A sentence —
one that made the very air freeze.
Shuzo's eyes widened.
He felt it — he finally understood.
The truth in Nebruel's words.
There was no right answer.
No mercy.
No escape.
I'll kill him.
The words hammered inside his skull — again and again.
He had never intended to let them go.
Before his eyes, Don's body began to rise —
not by its own strength,
but as if pulled by strings.
Again.
Jerking, unnatural —
a cruel hand forcing him to live, only to suffer.
Shuzo's vision narrowed into a tunnel —
and he saw nothing but—
HIM.
His first—
no, his only true friend…
I'll kill him.
Nebruel's words.
A threatening mantra, echoing inside his skull.
There had never been a chance.
Suddenly—
Donovan's body arched backward.
A sickening crack shattered through his bones.
He was wrenched out of unconsciousness,
a roar tearing from his throat —
raw. Bestial.
Spit and blood sprayed.
The roar cut off abruptly —
choking into a hoarse, animal rasp.
His mouth hung open, desperate for air that would not come.
"Don!"
Shuzo's scream —
hoarse, raw with pain — so loud it nearly tore his voice apart.
His fingers dug into his own palms —
nails tearing through skin,
blood dripping between his fingers.
A monster…
He stared at Nebruel through the tears streaming down his face —
but this time, not only in fear.
Something else burned in his gaze:
Rage.
And in a single heartbeat, he knew.
An understanding that kept growing inside him:
He wasn't an opponent.
He was a MONSTER.
They would die — no matter
whether he got his answer or not.
In that instant, something inside Shuzo broke — or awakened:
A knowledge, brutal and clear.
No one would come.
Not now — not later.
No one would save them.
It was his fault.
He had convinced Donovan to go out into the forest.
Away from the walls.
Away from safety.
Then:
"Let him go."
Shuzo's voice was rough —
rougher than it should have been.
No pleading.
No more sobbing —
only burning rage.
Nebruel paused.
"Hm?"
He blinked slowly —
turning slightly to face the boy.
His presence filled the air like the calm before a storm.
He studied him carefully, from a new angle.
Curiosity.
Shuzo stood.
His whole small body trembled.
Thin veins stood out along his neck;
his heart pounded so violently
he thought it might burst through his ribs.
"DIDN'T YOU HEAR ME?!"
The words cracked through the air —
a scream, a whip.
Nebruel blinked again,
no more than the flick of an eyelash.
Then his face opened into a smile —
not of joy,
but disbelief.
"What was that just now?" he asked quietly,
almost astonished by the boy's insolent delusion of grandeur.
"And who do you think you are, you little pest maggot?"
His gaze drifted slowly — cuttingly — over Shuzo.
The small, weeping bastard...
...had changed.
He saw the black strands,
stuck with sweat against his cheeks.
The braid — disheveled, caked with dirt.
Those toxic green eyes — red-rimmed, swollen —
and yet, a spark still burned within them.
Hate.
Pure, lethal hate.
It made Nebruel lower his head.
"Well, now…"
His voice was a murmur — amused.
Two lavender strands fell across his forehead.
He was enjoying this.
Shuzo's brows drew together,
deep lines carving into his young face.
"I said…"
His fangs ground together, clenched so tightly they creaked.
"LET. HIM. DOWN!"
It sounded like a goddamn command —
and that's exactly what it was.
Silence.
Nebruel drank in the sight —
as though the scene were a play performed for him alone.
"Tch—"
His shoulders tightened, reflexively —
as if a shadow had passed straight through him.
Shuzo's chest rose and fell — wild, untamed.
Every breath was a tear in the silence, almost animal.
ENOUGH!
He jerked his head up,
locked his gaze — pupils narrowing —
and roared:
"ENOUGH. NOW!"
A thunderclap that shook the world.
And for the fraction of a heartbeat —
even the steppe went still.
Nebruel's fingers twitched, almost imperceptibly —
but it was there;
for the blink of an eye —
a hesitation.