The night's hunt had gone on long enough.
"I think we should call it a day," Arthur said, his voice echoing in Alex's mind as the boy cut down another shrieking curse demon.
"But I'm not done yet!" Alex panted, eyes blazing. "They're running away from me, hiding in the shadows!"
Arthur's tone sharpened, cold and condescending. "They're only low-ranked curse demons, Alex. If you struggle this much with vermin, what will you do when you face a mid-rank? Or worse—one of the higher?"
"I'll be stronger by then," Alex shot back, determination in his voice. "For now, let me finish these monsters!" He lunged after a fleeing demon.
"You've killed ten already," Arthur replied, unimpressed. "Enough."
Before Alex could protest, his vision snapped to black. The air changed. When he blinked, he was no longer among corpses and shadows but standing in his room.
"This is not fair!" Alex growled, fists clenched. He didn't notice Raphael stirring in the other bed, silently watching him return from wherever he had been.
"If only I'd killed more…" Alex muttered under his breath.
Arthur's voice slid back into his thoughts, silken and insidious.
"Killing demons is nothing, Alex. Do you know what's truly satisfying? Killing humans. The arrogant, the ignorant—the ones like Damon. Or that meddlesome boy, Jerry. Their screams are sweeter than any beast's."
Alex froze. "What… did you say?"
"Humans deserve it more than demons ever could," Arthur purred. "Try it, Alex. Take one life. Then you'll understand what real power tastes like."
Alex hesitated. His voice was low, conflicted. "And if I get caught?"
"You won't." Arthur's tone was certainty itself.
"I'll think about it…" Alex whispered, though unease gnawed at him.
Arthur chuckled darkly, satisfied.
Alex pushed the voice away, washed the blood from his body, changed clothes, and collapsed into bed. Sleep claimed him instantly.
---
Morning came. The boys dressed for class, but Jerry's seat was empty. The lectures dragged, three hours at a time, Alex barely listening as his mind churned. Where was Jerry? Why did Arthur's words keep circling in his head?
At break, he searched the school grounds, but Jerry was nowhere. By day's end, Alex wandered restlessly instead of returning to the dorm. The training hall smelled of sweat and steel, weapons lining the walls in neat rows. He lingered, then left, still unsettled.
He didn't have to wait long.
A boy stepped out to block his path. His face was unfamiliar, his smile cruel.
"What do you want?" Alex asked flatly.
"Ten o'clock tonight," the boy said. "Behind the library. If you don't come—your friend dies." He vanished as quickly as he appeared.
Alex's pulse spiked. He rushed back to the dorm. Raphael wasn't there. The message was clear.
Arthur's laugh curled through his thoughts.
"I told you, Alex. That boy isn't worth keeping alive."
"Shut up," Alex hissed, though his hands trembled with fury.
"Oh? Does my laughter disturb you?" Arthur asked, still amused. "How unfortunate."
---
That night, the campus was cloaked in silence. Alex moved like a shadow toward the library. His mind warred with itself—Arthur's whispers against his own will.
"I'll just save Raphael," he muttered. "No killing. No matter what."
But as he rounded the corner of the library, the words died on his lips.
"Well, look who came crawling."
Jerry's laughter cut the air. He stood in the clearing, smug grin stretching ear to ear. Alex's stomach twisted when he saw what lay behind him.
Raphael—his wrists and ankles bound in chains, arms stretched against the wall like a crucifixion. His shirt was drenched in blood, his skin marked with fresh welts and bruises. His head hung low, but every shallow breath confirmed he was still alive.
Alex's rage ignited instantly. He clenched his fists, stepping forward—only for Jerry to block his path, whip coiled in his hand, its edges gleaming with cruel metal hooks.
"What did you do to him?" Alex demanded, his voice trembling.
Jerry smirked. "Oh, don't you want to know? I threatened him. Forced him to talk. Then I used this." He raised the whip proudly, as if it were a trophy. "I struck him again and again until he coughed blood. He begged, you know. Begged for you to come. Pity you were late—otherwise you could have watched his face twist in agony while I—"
"Shut. Up." Alex's voice was low, dangerous.
Jerry laughed harder, reveling in the cruelty. "Oh, look how angry you are! Yesterday, I let you play your little games and you thought you were untouchable? Hahaha—"
The laughter stopped abruptly.
Alex's hand was around Jerry's throat. His eyes glowed red, their light reflecting in Jerry's widening pupils. The boy's cocky smile faltered, his voice cracking in terror.
"M-Monster—"
The word ended in a sickening crack.
"I said… shut up."
Alex shoved him aside like trash. Jerry collapsed to the ground, gasping, eyes darting wildly. He tried to move, but his head lolled unnaturally. The realization dawned slowly, horror washing over him—his neck was broken.
And standing over him, Alex's glowing eyes burned like fire in the dark.
"You fucking don't touch what's mine."