The grove felt different that morning. The snow was heavier, dampening the sounds of movement. Zyair's tails twitched instinctively, a warning that something was wrong. He had been training for days, mastering his Ice and Chaos Oros, but the instinctual alert made him pause.
A figure emerged from the mist between two massive oaks. Cloaked in black, with a faint shimmer of Abyss-tainted energy curling from their hands, they moved with a predator's confidence. Zyair froze.
Scout? Or worse…
The operative struck first, sending a small wave of shadowy energy toward him. Zyair rolled, feeling the wind of the attack brush past him. His tails whipped out instinctively, coiling around tree trunks to pivot, striking with both Ice and Chaos Oros in a controlled but sharp counterattack.
The operative laughed softly—a sound that made Zyair's skin crawl. Every strike was measured, tactical, anticipating his movements. This was no random creature; this was someone trained to kill and observe.
Zyair lunged, spinning through the air, tails cutting in arcs to strike the operative's defenses. But the Abyss Oros reacted unpredictably, sending shards of corrupted energy flying. One hit a tree near him, splintering it violently.
I can't… I can't hold back forever.
The realization hit him: if he didn't fight to kill, he wouldn't survive. The operative didn't hesitate, and neither could he. Zyair's eyes flared green and vermillion, tails thrumming with Chaotic energy. He let the Hydra Apex instincts guide him, pushing past hesitation, past fear.
A tail struck the operative's leg, another coiled around their torso, and a concentrated Chaos-Oros-infused strike hit their chest. The operative faltered, then collapsed, dark energy seeping into the snow. Zyair staggered back, panting, adrenaline coursing through him.
He stared at the body, tail slowly retracting. A mix of shock, horror, and grim acceptance settled in. His hands shook—not from exertion, but from the weight of what he had just done.
I… had to. I would have died if I hadn't.
The forest was silent again, save for the crackling of residual Oros energy around him. Zyair sank to one knee, coiling his tails protectively, trying to process the lesson: to survive, he might have to cross lines he never thought he would.
And somewhere in the shadows, another presence stirred—watching, learning, waiting. The Void Covenant wasn't done. Not by far.
Snow fell softly, covering footprints and blood alike. Zyair rose slowly, resolute, knowing that from now on, every step forward would demand both skill and ruthless determination.