"Don't break the glass."
Reeve's voice cut through the tension.
Lunareth glanced at him sharply. "I know what will happen if it breaks," she replied, irritation flashing in her eyes. "You don't need to—"
But Reeve was already moving.
He stepped closer to the containers.
Each step felt heavier, as if the air itself resisted him. The liquid inside the glass chambers rippled unnaturally when he approached, reacting not to his mana—but to him.
Reeve studied the creatures carefully now.
Not their forms.
Not their pain.
But the patterns.
"How refined…" he murmured.
He noticed how their mana flowed—not freely, but in loops. Forced circulation. Artificial rhythm. Like puppets breathing because someone else pulled the strings.
Then—
He saw it.
A mark.
Etched faintly into the back of one creature's neck. Almost invisible unless you knew where to look. A sigil made of intersecting lines and a hollow center—unfinished, yet dominant.
Reeve froze.
For a split second, his breath stopped.
Then he turned around—too fast, too sharp.
Dangerous.
Lunareth felt it instantly.
Something shifted.
The air trembled—not violently, but like the moment before a storm breaks. Her instincts screamed.
"Reeve…?" she said slowly.
He looked at her.
And Lunareth's anger rose instantly—
Then shattered.
Because the expression on Reeve's face wasn't rage.
It was recognition.
"We have to kill all of these creatures," Reeve said.
Silence.
Lunareth's eyes widened in disbelief. "What…?" Anger surged. "Reeve, have you lost your—"
Then she truly looked at him.
His jaw was clenched, eyes dark, pupils unnaturally still. No hesitation. No emotion clouding judgment.
Only certainty.
"They're no longer in control of themselves," Reeve continued calmly. "Their will is already gone."
Lunareth swallowed. "Do you even know what you're saying?" she demanded. "Do you know what was done to them?"
Reeve nodded once.
"They're under someone's control," he said. "Direct control. Not domination—command."
He pointed back toward the container.
"Look at that mark."
Lunareth turned again, focusing her senses.
And felt it.
A foreign authority embedded into the mana itself.
Reeve exhaled slowly.
"Someone once told me about this mark," he said quietly. "I'll explain everything when we return to the castle."
Lunareth opened her mouth to speak—
But stopped.
Because Reeve's mana flared.
Fire gathered in his palm—not wild, not explosive. Perfectly compressed. Controlled to the point of terror.
"Go outside," Reeve said.
His tone allowed no argument.
"I'm going to kill all of these creatures."
Lunareth stared at him.
For a moment, she wanted to refuse.
But something in Reeve's presence… told her this decision was already made.
"…Take them," Reeve added, glancing at the captured men. "Now."
Lunareth hesitated.
Then she grabbed the prisoners and retreated, her heart pounding violently.
The moment she stepped outside—
The base shook.
A single explosion.
Fire roared outward, devouring sound, light, and mana alike. The earth trembled beneath her feet.
Lunareth's breath caught.
"…Reeve…"
For one terrifying moment, she thought—
No.
She clenched her fists.
Deep down, she felt it.
He was alive.
The flames died.
Smoke poured from the entrance.
Then—
A figure emerged.
Reeve.
Clothes scorched. Eyes cold. Mana still humming around him like restrained violence.
He stepped forward without slowing.
Then suddenly—
He vanished.
The next instant, his fist slammed into one of the prisoners' faces, smashing him to the ground with bone-cracking force.
Reeve grabbed the man by the collar and lifted him effortlessly.
His voice was low.
Deadly calm.
"Who founded this base?"
"…Who built this factory?"
The man screamed.
And Lunareth realized—
This wasn't just about the fairy kingdom anymore.
Something far older.
Far darker.
Had just been awakened.