The snow crunched under Zyair's boots as he pressed deeper into the dense pine grove. His muscles ached from the previous encounter, his coat streaked with blood and grime—but he was alive.
A distant rustle froze him in place. Three Abyss-infused operatives emerged from the tree line, moving with deadly precision. Zyair didn't panic. He had learned quickly: survival demanded both instinct and improvisation.
In a single motion, all three tails sprang into action. One whipped forward, lashing and striking with Chaos Oros-infused precision. Another coiled around a tree, rebounding like a spring to launch him over an incoming strike. The third—the feeding tail—snaked toward the nearest operative, piercing and devouring flesh, warmth flooding Zyair's body as torn muscles began knitting themselves back together.
He staggered slightly, but the combination of raw Oros energy and Hydra Apex instinct kept him on his feet. The second operative lunged from behind. His tails spun, weaving an intricate web of offense and defense: Ice Oros shards shot from the frozen ground, striking the assailant mid-step while the feeding tail lashed again, devouring just enough to replenish his energy without losing focus.
The third operative attacked from above, swinging a shadowed weapon. Zyair's Chaos-infused tail intercepted, shattering the steel with explosive force. Simultaneously, the feeding tail coiled around the operative's torso, tearing and drawing energy with savage efficiency.
This… this is how I survive.
The fight unfolded like a deadly dance. Tails twisted and snapped through the frigid air, Ice shards froze paths and movements, Chaos Oros detonated in controlled bursts, and the feeding tail relentlessly absorbed what his attackers could not finish. Each strike, each bite, each block honed his instincts further.
By the time the snow settled, the clearing was littered with unconscious or devoured operatives. Zyair's chest heaved, body trembling, but he stood victorious. The feeding tail pulsed faintly, residual energy shimmering as a stark reminder of how close he had come to death.
Perched atop a ridge, Zyair flexed each tail in turn, testing their responsiveness. His mind raced—every skirmish, every wound, every bite was a lesson. The Void Covenant was tracking him, learning his limits, shaping him, and he was adapting.
The wind whispered through the trees, carrying a sense of watchful eyes. Somewhere, someone calculated, waiting for the moment Zyair could no longer outrun them.
And Zyair knew that day would come. The fight had dragged on too long. Zyair's tails lashed through the snow-choked clearing, weaving attacks and blocks, but the operatives pressed relentlessly.
He had tried setting up crude defenses—fallen branches reinforced with Ice Oros shards, tripwires of frozen vines—but they tore through them like paper. One operative lunged from the side, slicing clean through his Chaos Oros-infused tail. Pain shot through him, white-hot and all-consuming. Zyair staggered back, clutching the stump, vision narrowing.
The remaining operative closed in, predatory and confident. Fear, pain, and rage fused in Zyair's chest, a burning pressure he couldn't name.
Instinct took over. He slammed his hand into the frozen ground, shouting, "Get away from me!"
For a heartbeat, nothing happened—then a shockwave of crimson energy erupted from his body. Blood leapt from his veins, searing through the snow, detonating with violent force. The operative was obliterated before he could touch Zyair.
Zyair fell to his knees, shaking, heart hammering. His eyes widened as he stared at his own hands. He hadn't consciously used Oros. He hadn't intended this. The destruction had come from deep within him—his Vampire bloodline, awakening for the first time under mortal danger.
He flexed his remaining tails, now tingling with residual energy, and felt a pulse of power unfamiliar yet undeniable. This was not just the Hydra Apex instinct… this was something else entirely.
Somewhere beyond the treeline, a shadow lingered, observing. The Void Covenant had noticed.