Rai sensed it first.

  A low, trembling whine rumbled in his tiny throat as he pressed into Azhareth’s leg. His fur stood on end — not in fear, but in recognition.

  Azhareth felt the mana shift an instant later.

  A lightning echo.

  Familiar.

  Wrong.

  Incomplete.

  The kind of lightning that tried to imitate Flercher… but couldn’t.

  Azhareth sighed and tapped two fingers against his temple.

  “Don’t look,” he warned Rai.

  Rai whimpered harder. He could already feel the pressure.

  Azhareth opened a sliver — just a sliver — of Azel the Oracle of Tenfold Future foresight, soul 212.

  It felt like a burning nail being hammered into his skull.

  Future visions split and collided — twenty realities collapsing into one violent headache. He saw Rina’s stumbling movements, the glamor of lightning, the explosive clash of mana, the young lord’s arrogance.

  Then he shut it down.

  Hard.

  Blood trickled from the corner of his eye.

  Rai pawed at him in a panic.

  “I know. I hate it too.”

  Azhareth wiped the blood with the back of his hand. “But it’s enough.”

  He stood.

  And for a moment, Rai looked up at him… and saw not Azhareth, not Raine.

  But all 666 lives standing at once behind him.

  Azhareth rested a hand gently on Rai’s head.

  “Come,” he said softly. “Our personal nourisher is bleeding.”

  Rai shook his head, trembling.

  Azhareth leaned down, forehead touching Rai’s.

  “I’m not telling you to fight,” he murmured.

  “I’m telling you she feeds us. And I don’t like losing cooks.”

  Rai blinked — once.

  Then nodded.

  That was all Azhareth needed.

  He placed his palm over Rai’s small frame — and invoked Damian the Primordial Warden, soul 425, the beast emperor.

  Mana spiraled. Bones hummed. Muscles rewove themselves. The ground cracked beneath Rai’s paws.

  Rai let out one small whimper.

  Then roared.

  An ancient, world-shaking roar that didn’t belong to a puppy — but a primordial monster.

  Azhareth stepped back and tossed him a final can of cola.

  “Go.”

  Rai vanished in a burst of white-blue lightning that split the sky.

  Azhareth sat back down.

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  Took a sip.

  “Don’t make me come there.”

  Lightning crashed against the stone.

  Azureveil’s last strike had thrown Rina across the plaza. Blood seeped through her glove as she struggled to raise her rapier.

  Dael, Kira, Slyeph, and Merrin were pinned behind her — bruised and shaking, nearly out of pills.

  Azureveil sneered, hair crackling with arcs of unstable lightning.

  “You fight like a child,” he mocked.

  “And you dare use lightning in my presence?”

  Rina grit her teeth.

  Her hand shook, but her stance did not.

  “If you think your lightning is superior,” she panted,

  “then you know nothing of—”

  A shadow streaked down from above.

  At first it was only a rumble.

  Then—

  BOOM.

  The entire plaza cratered.

  Dust exploded outward. Azureveil stumbled backward. The shockwave nearly knocked Rina unconscious.

  The ground trembled.

  And a voice spoke through the dust:

  “Hmph.”

  Deep.

  Disappointed.

  Irritated.

  “Flercher said get out of my sight.”

  Azureveil froze.

  As the dust settled, Rai stood at the center — no longer the dying beast Rina once saw, no longer a puppy.

  But the Primordial Behemoth, reborn, restored, perfected.

  His hide glowed faintly with lightning veins. His eyes were intelligent, ancient. His mane flowed with mana like a storm caught in fur.

  Rina’s breath hitched.

  Dael’s tablet overclocked, glitching nonstop.

  Merrin whispered, half in prayer, “That… that can’t be ranked…”

  Azureveil staggered backward, fear replacing arrogance.

  “No… No, Gorvath died— died—”

  Rai snorted.

  “You saw Gorvath dying,” he said in a calm, irritated bass.

  “You didn’t see me living.”

  Everyone froze.

  Rina’s jaw dropped.

  Her team went silent.

  Azureveil choked on his own breath.

  A talking monster.

  A thinking monster.

  A monstrous intelligence that dwarfed their own.

  Azureveil pointed weakly at Rina.

  “W–Who is… that woman?”

  Rai turned his massive head toward Rina.

  Lowered it respectfully.

  And said:

  “Our personal nourisher.”

  Rina nearly fell over.

  “W–WHAT?!”

  Azureveil’s face contorted in confusion and fury.

  “WHAT KIND OF TITLE IS THAT?! WHO GAVE HER THAT?!”

  Rai’s eyes sharpened.

  “A being whose shadow you are unworthy to touch.”

  Azureveil snapped.

  Lightning detonated.

  He struck Rai with everything he had — all fury, all pride, all of his lineage’s desperation.

  It hit Rai’s hide.

  And fizzled out like static.

  Azureveil’s expression collapsed.

  Rai sighed — disappointed.

  “You still practice Overcharge like a toddler.”

  He flexed a paw. “Weak.”

  Azureveil lost his composure entirely.

  “This… THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE!”

  Then Rai shifted.

  This time not to the behemoth Rina saw before — but to his true form.

  Primordial.

  Titanic.

  A beast that once defined terror for entire civilizations.

  Azureveil’s breath vanished.

  He took one trembling step back.

  Then another.

  Then—

  He ran.

  Ran without pride.

  Without honor.

  Without looking back.

  Lightning streaked behind him as he disappeared miles away.

  Rai snorted.

  “Whimp.”

  Rina collapsed to her knees, shaking from exhaustion and disbelief.

  Her team stared at Rai like they were staring at a god.

  And Rai, satisfied, sat down with a huff — tail swishing proudly.

  Azhareth felt the disturbance fade.

  He took another sip of cola.

  “Handled.”

  He waited.

  And somewhere on the horizon, he knew Rai was trotting back — smug, proud, and probably expecting praise.

  Azhareth smiled faintly.

  “…Good boy.”