The ruins always looked different after bloodshed.
Ethan woke to the fractured morning light spilling through jagged glass, turning the dust in the air into sparks of fire. He hadn't really slept — only drifted in and out, haunted by flashes of Selene's warning, her lips, her refusal.
Don't get attached.
But it wasn't her words that gnawed at him. It was her silence after. That brief crack in her mask, the moment she hadn't pulled away.
Now, his chest ached with something he couldn't name. Hunger, frustration, desire — all tangled into one relentless ache.
The Core stirred, a low hum beneath his skin. You ache because you are caged. Stop begging for scraps. Take. Claim. Rule.
Ethan dragged in a breath, forcing himself upright. Across the room, Selene sat sharpening her knife, as calm and untouchable as ever. She didn't look at him. She didn't need to — her silence was a fortress.
And that silence drove him mad.
By noon, they were on the move again. The city groaned with distant gunfire, the air thick with smoke. Rumors had reached Ethan's ears in whispers: factions were shifting, leaders scrambling. The Crimson storm he'd stirred was spreading.
When they reached the cracked shell of an old highway overpass, they weren't alone.
A group waited there — ragged survivors, scavengers turned soldiers, all bearing the markings of the Bone Rats faction. Fifteen men and women, armed with rifles, blades, and makeshift armor. Their leader, a broad-shouldered brute with tattoos crawling up his neck, stepped forward.
"Well, well," the man drawled, his gaze raking over Ethan with open disdain. "The Crimson boy himself. The one the Hunters are chasing. Overseer's whispering your name like you're some damn messiah."
Selene's hand shifted subtly toward her rifle. Ethan felt the warning in her silence: Stay calm. Don't provoke.
But the Core had other plans. His blood thrummed, his pulse sharp with something primal. These weren't allies. These were hyenas circling, testing.
And Ethan was done being tested.
"You want something?" Ethan asked, voice low, steady.
The brute grinned. "Want? Yeah. We want tribute. Factions don't just let strangers walk through their turf. You want to breathe our air, drink our water, live to see tomorrow — you pay. Blood, supplies, doesn't matter. Or—" He raised his rifle lazily. "We take you to the Overseer alive. Might get us a nice reward."
Selene tensed beside him, but Ethan barely heard her sharp intake of breath. His body was humming, the Core pushing against his veins like molten fire.
Dominance, it whispered. Show them what you are.
Something inside him broke.
One second he stood still, the next his claws were out, blood-red and gleaming. He moved faster than thought, faster than the brute could blink. Ethan's hand slammed into the man's chest, claws piercing through bone, flesh, and heart in a single brutal motion.
The Bone Rat leader choked, eyes wide with shock, blood bubbling at his lips. Ethan leaned close, his voice a low growl.
"I don't pay tribute."
Then he ripped his hand free.
The body crumpled at his feet, blood pooling dark across the cracked asphalt. Silence followed — thick, stunned, suffocating.
The other Bone Rats froze, staring at Ethan as though a monster had stepped out of nightmare.
And maybe one had.
Ethan straightened slowly, blood dripping from his claws. His eyes burned crimson, the Core thrumming with vicious delight. He scanned the group, every heartbeat loud in his ears.
"Listen well," he said, his voice carrying like thunder. "I am not prey. I am not tribute. I am power. Anyone who stands against me dies. Anyone who stands with me lives."
The silence stretched. Then, one by one, weapons lowered. The Bone Rats bent their heads, fear etched into every line of their faces. Submission.
Ethan's chest heaved. His Core purred, satisfied. Yes. This is your throne. This is your Dominion.
But when he looked at Selene, her expression wasn't fear. It wasn't submission.
It was something colder. Something that twisted his stomach more than the blood on his claws.
"Congratulations," she said flatly. "You just declared war on every faction in the city."
Her words cut deeper than the Core's laughter ever could.
For the first time, Ethan realized dominance didn't come without chains of its own.
And yet, as the Bone Rats bowed their heads, he couldn't bring himself to regret it.
Because in their fear, in their obedience, he had tasted something intoxicating.
Control.
And he wasn't sure he'd ever let it go.
The Bone Rats didn't move at first, frozen like prey before a predator. Then the youngest of them, a girl no older than seventeen with ragged braids, dropped her weapon and sank to her knees.
It was a spark.
One by one, the rest followed — some kneeling, some bowing their heads, others simply lowering their weapons and averting their eyes. The sound of steel clattering to asphalt echoed beneath the hollow overpass.
"Alpha…" one of them whispered, voice trembling.
The word hit Ethan like a strike of lightning. Not because of what it meant to them, but because of how it felt inside him. His Core pulsed violently, feeding on their submission. His veins lit with fire, his vision sharpening as though the world itself bent around him.
The Core was exultant. They recognize you. They belong to you. Take them. Break them. Rule them.
Ethan's hands trembled at his sides. He forced his claws to retract, though the hunger clawed at his mind.
Selene's boots crunched on gravel as she stepped forward, blade still in her hand. She didn't bow. She didn't even flinch. Her dark eyes swept the kneeling faction, then cut back to Ethan with icy disdain.
"This isn't power," she said, voice low but sharp enough to cut steel. "This is theater. And theater burns out the moment the actors stop pretending."
Ethan met her gaze, chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm. "They believe."
"They fear," Selene corrected, her tone laced with contempt. "Fear doesn't last. Not when someone stronger comes along. Not when the Overseer decides to tighten the leash. You've just painted a target on your back, Ethan. And on mine."
Her words should have cooled the fire in his blood. Instead, they stoked it.
"Then let them come," Ethan growled, his voice roughened by something not entirely human. "I'm done hiding. I'm done running. If they want me dead, they'll have to kneel first."
The Bone Rats shifted uneasily, caught between awe and dread.
Selene tilted her head, studying him the way a hunter studies a beast she isn't sure she can kill yet. For a flicker of a moment, something unreadable passed through her expression — not fear, not approval, but something sharper. Almost… curiosity.
Then it was gone. She turned away, sliding her knife back into its sheath. "Enjoy your little kingdom," she muttered. "Let's see how long it lasts before it eats you alive."
Ethan watched her walk ahead, her back rigid, her pace unbroken. The kneeling Bone Rats kept their heads low, waiting for his command.
The Core surged within him, drunk on submission, whispering, urging. Claim them. Command them. Bind them to your blood.
And for the first time since this nightmare began, Ethan didn't feel small. He didn't feel like prey, or a survivor clawing his way through ruins. He felt like something else entirely.
A king born in crimson.
The silence of the kneeling faction stretched, heavy with anticipation. Ethan lifted his bloodstained hand, the gesture instinctive, primal.
"You live because I allow it," he declared, his voice carrying over the ruined cityscape. "You fight for me, you bleed for me, or you die."
A ragged chorus of assent rose up, hesitant at first, then swelling like a storm.
"Crimson King!" someone shouted.
Ethan's heart hammered. He didn't choose that name. He didn't need to. It was already spreading like fire.
Selene didn't look back.
But he felt her silence like a blade pressing against his throat.
And as the Bone Rats swore themselves to him beneath the broken overpass, Ethan knew this was only the first echo of something much larger.
The world had noticed him.
And it would never look away again.