Above them, the crow-man crouched on the rooftop, red eyes gleaming beneath the city lights. The smirk was gone. Now, his expression was sharp—cold and calculating.
Elion scanned the rooftop, trying to sense him. Jordan glanced around, fists clenched, but shook his head. "I can't feel him at all."
They didn't know his exact position until Ronan finally spoke, voice low. "He's up there."
Elion's eyes snapped to the rooftop. He frowned. "Is he out of radius…"
Now, he knew that his senses were limited. His Pulse technique and mastery couldn't allow him to reach that far. Not yet.
Jordan blinked. "What radius?"
"Radius of your sense," Ronan enlightened.
"Damn. I can't even perfectly sense others' aura, and now there is this radius thing?" Jordan sounded frustrated.
He looked at Elion and asked, "How far is your radius?"
"Five to seven meters," Elion muttered, frustrated.
"Wait. You can sense that far?" Jordan was dumbfounded.
Ronan gave him a glance. "That's pretty impressive for a single day of Pulse training."
Elion tensed. Impressive or not, it still felt like a limitation. His instincts screamed at him to do better, to be better. He couldn't help but wonder how far Ronan's sense extended. Jordan, too, wondered about that. Ronan didn't even need to read their minds.
"No need to guess. Just know that when your senses are trained to their peak, you'll be able to cover a hundred kilometers. Easy."
Jordan's jaw dropped. "You're telling me… you can sense stuff from that far away?"
Ronan didn't answer. Just smirked. It was better to leave it that way. Maybe both Elion and Jordan would be more motivated to train harder. Elion clenched his teeth and crouched, ready to launch himself at the crow-man before he slipped away. But Ronan stepped forward, blocking his path with a single raised hand.
"Let him go," he said casually.
"What?" Elion snapped. "We have him—he's right—"
"Exactly." Ronan's grin widened. "Which makes him perfect bait and how are you getting up there?"
Above them, the crow-man chuckled, wings slowly stretching out.
"Clever," he said, voice echoing in the alley. "But you three won't live long enough to enjoy your little victories."
Jordan growled, taking a step forward. "Come down here and fight like a man. Fair and square."
The crow-man tilted his head, amused. "Nothing about this is fair, brat. You can't fly. That's your problem."
With a single flap of his wings, the beast-man launched into the air and vanished into the night sky—leaving only a gust of feathers and wind behind. Elion clenched his fists. Every nerve in his body screamed that letting this guy go was a terrible mistake. His Black Panther ring gave him speed and stealth, not flight.
Jordan groaned. "That bird's gonna be a problem later, isn't he?"
Ronan shrugged. "Almost definitely."
Jordan sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "Cool. Love that for us."
Then—a sound. Behind them, the bull-man and the lizard-man's bodies began to shift. Their forms twisted and shrank, the monstrous flesh receding until they were human again. Lifeless. Silent.
But the silence didn't last.
From their corpses, thick smoke began to rise—black as tar and pulsing like it was alive. It slithered upward, swirling with malevolence, as if something inside refused to die.
Elion took a step back, breath caught in his throat.
They weren't just monsters.
They had been people.
The realization hit like a brick to the gut. "What have I…?" His voice faltered. The weight of what he'd done crashed down on him. "I forgot that they were human…"
Jordan glanced at him, eyes softer for once. He got it. Some people weren't built for violence—not right away. It took time, understanding, and, of course, the experience of seeing or killing. After what he'd seen in Thailand… the underground fights, the body bags… he'd already made peace with certain things. Elion hadn't. Not yet. That was why everything that he saw right now was a massive blow to him.
But Ronan? He didn't flinch. He didn't blink. If anything, his smile sharpened.
"Your rings. Now."
Elion froze. "What?"
"The smoke," Ronan said. "Corrupted Essence. It wants to escape. It'll find another host."
That snapped Elion out of it. He exchanged a look with Jordan—then slowly raised his beast ring. Jordan, still calm, mirrored him without hesitation. The black smoke twisted violently in the air—then surged. It split in two and shot into their rings like lightning pulled by a magnet, vanishing in an instant. The silence afterward was heavier than before.
Jordan stared at his ring, flexing his fingers. "So… that's what it feels like to absorb corruption?"
Ronan nodded. "You've tasted killing now. Welcome to the real world."
However, Elion did not share the same sentiment. He shivered. Something inside him shifted—like his core had turned a few degrees colder. Jordan looked at him.
"Dude. Are you okay?" he asked.
"I… I killed someone," Elion muttered.
"You'll kill more," Ronan said flatly, "if you don't learn to end things quickly."
Jordan grimaced. "Yeah. He's not wrong."
Elion clenched his jaw, still struggling to center himself. It wasn't something he could just brush off. While he'd fought the lizard-man, it was easy to rationalize. The enemy had fangs, scales, claws—it looked like a monster.
But now?
Now, lying lifeless on the ground, was just a man. Thin. Pale. Maybe a few years older than Elion. Braided hair. Lean frame. Human.
Elion's thoughts spiraled. 'Did he have a family? Was he someone's older brother? Was he fighting to survive?' The questions came uninvited, crashing into his conscience one after another.
"Your sacks. The rings are getting ready to shoot into the sky again," Ronan reminded.
Without a word and wasting any more time, both Elion and Jordan moved to the corpses. They knelt beside the bodies, carefully removed the Corrupted Rings, and dropped them into their sacks. Protocol. Routine. That didn't make it easier.
Elion paused over the lizard-man's body, staring at his still face. His fingers hovered above the guy's chest, unsure why. Maybe to check if there was still warmth left. Maybe to say sorry. Maybe he didn't even know. Then came Ronan—clapping them both on the back like they'd just finished a workout. His smirk was irritatingly casual.
"Don't overthink it," he said. "Even if you had spared them, I wouldn't have."
Elion blinked, startled—but the truth of it settled quickly.
"Great," he muttered. "Nothing like sharing someone else's moral burden."
Jordan groaned as he tried to change the topic. "Man, am I that unfit?"
He stretched his hands. "I need a nap. No, screw that—I need a coma."
Ronan chuckled, cracking his knuckles. "Oh, trust me. That was just the warm-up. It only gets worse from here."
Elion let out a slow breath, dragging a hand through his tangled hair. The adrenaline was fading, but something else was rising in its place. Something deeper. A quiet itch in the back of his mind. He turned, staring in the direction the crow-man had flown. There was something different about him—something that didn't fit.
"How did that crow know about Slayers?" Elion asked quietly.
Jordan frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I mean… the way he talked. It wasn't just recognizing us as enemies. He knew what we were. Like, really knew."
Ronan's expression darkened just slightly, but he didn't speak. Up until now, the beast-men had been blunt instruments—brutal, obedient, and relentless. They never ran, never hesitated, never spoke with strategy. Just beasts in human skin.
But the crow-man?
He had a strategy. Poise. And worst of all—information.
Elion's eyes narrowed. He turned to Ronan, his voice tight. "So… does the Corrupted Ring actually force people to follow this 'Lord' guy?"
Ronan's gaze flicked to him. After a pause, he nodded. "Yes."
Elion stiffened. He'd suspected it, but hearing the confirmation still hit hard. Because deep down, he knew the Lord wasn't the only one pulling strings.
Jordan frowned. "Wait—so you're saying all these beast-men we've been fighting… they're basically puppets?"
"Not entirely," Ronan replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "The rings don't control them like zombies. But they do twist their thoughts—warp their judgment. They poison the mind and bind loyalty to the Lord."
Jordan grimaced. "That's some next-level cult crap."
Elion's thoughts whirled, and his jaw tightened. "That crow-man… he mentioned someone. Lady Leo."
He hesitated, then added, "And earlier… we saw the Sagittarius symbol."
Jordan looked confuse.
Elion then turned to Ronan. "I don't think this is just about the Lord. That symbol… it felt separate. Like another faction. A group."
"A Zodiac," Ronan muttered, his expression darkening. "I was hoping you'd catch that."
Jordan blinked. "Wait, what? Zodiacs?"
Elion shot him a look. "He literally said it."
Jordan threw up his hands. "Sorry, I was a little distracted trying not to pass out. Can someone please explain?"
But Ronan didn't answer right away. His eyes had drifted toward the night sky, clouded and still. "So the Lord is trying to mimic the Zodiacs…"
Jordan crossed his arms. "Okay, cool. What are the Zodiacs? Please don't tell me we're about to fight the entire horoscope."
To their surprise, Ronan laughed. "No, idiot. Not astrology. The Zodiacs are an elite organization in the Beast World. And a big deal."
Jordan raised an eyebrow. "Big like scary-big or big like bureaucratic pain?"
"If they were here," Ronan said, rolling his shoulders, "you wouldn't be asking. You'd be dead."
Elion frowned. "So… you don't think these ones are the real Zodiacs?"
"No. I believe the Lord just wanted to replicate it," Ronan said. "If the real ones were here, this world would be ash. But even a copy version? Still a massive threat."
Jordan scratched the back of his head. "Wait, wouldn't that make them weaker?"
"Maybe," Ronan said, his tone cooling. "But not to you. Not at your level."
He leaned against the crumbling alley wall, eyes narrowing. "If these Earth Zodiacs are Earthlings, and if any of them have opened as many Mana Gates as I have… then I'm the one at a disadvantage."
Elion's stomach dropped. He got it now. It wasn't just about strength.
Jordan looked confused. "How? You're, like, insanely strong."
Ronan glanced over at them. "You recover mana faster than I do, right?"
Jordan nodded slowly. "Yeah…?"
"That's because you're from here. Earth's energy syncs with you. Me?" He clicked his tongue. "I have to force every drop back in."
Jordan's throat went dry. "So you're weaker here."
Ronan tilted his head. "Took you long enough."
Jordan's eyes widened. "Wait—so if you fight them—"
"I might have to use my full power," Ronan said. He stretched his arms lazily, but his tone was anything but casual. "And that's the last thing I want to do."
Elion's mind was still spinning when something else clicked. He turned sharply.
"Wait. If you're weaker here… then why not just use your main Beast Ring?"
Jordan's head snapped up. "Oh yeah! What even is your main ring?"
Ronan smirked. "Not telling."
Jordan scowled. "You just said we're dealing with fake Zodiacs and that you might have to go all out—and you're still keeping secrets?"
Ronan shrugged. "You'll learn when you're ready."
Jordan groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "I hate you."
"I know," Ronan replied with a grin.
Jordan waved his arms in the air. "Great! Love the mystery. Love the vague doom. Love that we're apparently fighting a bootleg Zodiac army."
Ronan patted him on the shoulder. "You'll get used to it."
But then, his smile faded—and so did Elion's. Because something was coming. Elion sensed it, too, but a bit later than Ronan.
"People are coming," he said quietly, eyes narrowing.
Ronan's head snapped toward the alley entrance. His whole body tensed.
"Move," he muttered.
Jordan blinked. "Wait, what—"
"NOW!"
That did it. Slayer stats kicked in. Even battered and bruised, Elion and Jordan sprang into motion, feet slamming against the pavement as they sprinted after Ronan, who was already moving like a shadow.
Despite their exhaustion, their enhanced speed let them move like ghosts through the alley. Elion vaulted over a collapsed dumpster, landing in stride. Jordan didn't even slow down—he kicked off a wall, rebounding forward effortlessly.
Minutes later, they arrived.
The alley lit up with the cold gleam of tactical visors and reinforced boots hitting the broken pavement. A squad of heavily armed operatives poured in, moving like a single organism—silent, precise, ruthless. Their movements weren't the jittery, disorganized kind you'd expect from local law enforcement.
This wasn't SWAT.
This was something far beyond it.
Their armor gleamed under the city lights—black matte plating with broad indigo accents traced along the shoulders and forearms. Full-faced helmets concealed every identity, their reflective silver visors catching every flicker of light. No badges. No name tags. No insignia.
Ghosts.
Their weapons matched the look—sleek, short-barreled rifles fitted with custom pulse emitters and reinforced power cores. These weren't built for disarming suspects. They were designed to drop monsters. And at the front of them all—was a woman.
Helmet under her arm. Blonde hair pulled into a no-nonsense ponytail. Sharp eyes that missed nothing. She moved with the kind of confidence that didn't come from training alone—but experience. Real field experience.
She was Paige Carter.
And she didn't like what she saw.
Her boots crunched over broken concrete as she stepped into the heart of the battlefield. Clawed gashes tore through the alley walls, and rubble littered every corner of the ground. Cracks split the pavement like lightning scars, evidence of a battle that shook the foundation of the street itself. The scent—blood, smoke, and something unnatural—lingered in the air like a warning.
She scanned the scene, unblinking. Her gloved hand twitched, rhythmically tapping her thigh. Calculating. Absorbing. Then she saw them.
Two beast-men.
Their twisted corpses lay still—half-human, half-something else. One had a shattered horn. The other was barely recognizable as anything that had once walked on two feet.
Paige stepped closer, her voice cool, edged with steel. "Alright. Someone tell me why we got here just in time to be too late."
A tall officer moved up beside her, datapad glowing faintly in his hand. His voice was clipped and calm.
"Agent Carter," he said as he pointed to a nearby building. "Call came in five minutes ago. Civilians from a high-rise spotted the fight. We moved immediately."
She didn't glance at him. Still processing. "Civilians. Great. Witnesses."
Witnesses meant reports. Reports meant red tape. Red tape meant time she didn't have.
"How many people were involved?"
The officer tapped a command, data flickering across his visor. "Five, possibly six. Three were described as beasts—like these two. The others were fighting them."
Paige's brow ticked up. "Fighting?"
That was new. Her unit had trained for years, used custom-grade weapons, armor, and strategy—and still barely kept up with these creatures. But civilians? Regulars? She crouched beside a patch of shattered pavement and ran her gloved hand over the cracked surface. No gunfire residue. No blade marks. This wasn't military precision.
This was raw power.
Barehanded chaos.
She stood. "Where's the third beast?"
"We don't know," the officer admitted. "Possibly escaped. Still waiting on a full report."
Paige's eyes narrowed. She hated unknowns.
"And the ones who fought them?" she asked.
The officer shook his head. "No confirmed identities yet."
But Paige's mind was already ten steps ahead. The alley. The pattern. The destruction. It was too similar. Her thoughts snapped to the report from the Xylo Club Incident. Last night. Same chaos. Same creature signatures. The same two names were at the center.
Elion Hayes. Jordan Walker.
She clenched her jaw. Coincidence? Not even remotely.
"CCTV?" she asked.
"We're pulling footage from the area now," the officer said.
"Then pull everything," said Paige. "Five-block radius. I want footage before, during, and after this fight."
Her tone left no room for argument. The officer nodded and relayed the order. Paige exhaled through her nose. She turned back to the bodies. Her gaze was hard now.
Elion and Jordan.
Nobody matches their profiles. Which meant one thing. They were still alive.
She muttered their names under her breath, "Elion Hayes and Jordan Walker…"
The officer looked at her. "What do you want us to do about them?"
"We find them," Paige snapped.
"And find every single witness who saw this," she added. "Interview them. Get recordings. If someone blinked at the wrong time—I want to know."
"Yes, Agent Carter."
She turned her eyes skyward. Somewhere above, security drones were already scanning, cameras spinning. But Paige wasn't relying on tech alone. Her gut told her this was only the beginning. The destruction here didn't just scream of monsters. It screamed something new.
Something changing.
Something dangerous.
"Send the report to me directly," she ordered. "No delays."
"Yes, Agent Carter."
Her eyes flicked one last time to the beast corpses—still smoking, still half-shifted. Her instincts itched. Her fingers twitched. Whatever Elion and Jordan were into, it wasn't just survival anymore.
It was war.
She straightened. "We're done here."
Her team moved at once, spreading through the alley to tag the bodies, scan the debris, and lock down the scene. Their precision was unmatched—but Paige barely noticed.
Her mind was already ahead.
Planning the next move.
Because Elion Hayes and Jordan Walker weren't just survivors anymore.
They were participants.
And she wasn't going to stop until she found out why.