Jane examined him more carefully, pushing aside the sticky layers of dried blood caking his clothes. Up close, she could see he was young—late teens at most—and beneath the grime and gore, there was undeniably a kind of rugged, natural handsomeness. A strong jawline, messy dark hair stuck to his forehead, sharp brows. His hoodie was torn, the fabric stiff with blood, slashed open in several places as though something had raked claws across it.
A thought flickered across her mind, unbidden:
'Why are you covered in so much blood?'
She pressed her fingers gently to his neck.
A pulse. Faint—but steady.
'Good.'
Her gaze traveled down his body, searching for wounds, cuts, anything that would explain why he lay in a puddle of gore. But nothing made sense. Not a single open injury. No claw marks beneath the rips of his clothing. No fresh bleeding. Nothing to suggest the oceans of blood around him were his.
Her voice trembled beneath her breath.
"Something isn't right…"
His skin burned against her fingertips—not feverish like a sick person, but charged, almost humming with heat. A strange energy thrummed beneath his skin, a low vibration she could feel in her bones the longer she touched him.
'Did he kill all these goblins?'
Her eyes flicked around the carnage—heads missing, bodies torn apart, crushed skulls, shattered spines.
'That's impossible… there are so many... not even Lynis or Porpo could…'
She leaned closer, studying him, her face inches from his. His breathing was steady, calm—unnaturally calm for someone lying in the aftermath of carnage.
She stared.
Held her breath.
Then—
He gasped.
Violent. Wet. Sudden.
Jane jerked back so fast she nearly fell flat on her ass, heart slamming against her ribs. His entire torso snapped upward as if pulled by invisible hooks. Air tore into his lungs in a raw, choking roar, his spine arching off the ground, fingers splaying against the tiles as though he'd been ripped up from drowning.
Blood splattered from his sudden movement, droplets spraying across her boots and legs.
Jane froze, hands hovering helplessly. "H-hey—easy, breath—!"
Her whisper was swallowed by the sound of his ragged choking, his breath wheezing, desperate.
His fingers clawed into the fractured tile, scraping so hard his nails cracked, white dust and shards sticking beneath them. His breath hitched in violent spasms, each inhale jagged and painful, like his body didn't remember how to breathe.
Then, with a guttural, animalistic sound, he dragged himself upright onto all fours. His muscles trembled under his skin like something crawling beneath. His eyes were shut tight, brow furrowed, as though every sense in his body was overloaded, raw.
The air changed.
It thickened—heavy, oppressive.
Jane felt it before she fully understood it. The temperature around them rose sharply, the air buzzing with static. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. The lights overhead flickered in weak protest. She could see steam radiating outward like a furnace from his back as pops and cracks echoed beneath the surface of his skin.
Her mind screamed, 'What the hell is happening?'
She lifted her hands slowly, cautiously. "Hey… it's okay. You're safe now…"
Her voice faltered.
The heat pouring off him intensified. The tiles beneath his palms trembled. A subtle pressure filled the room, pushing against her chest like a physical weight. Her instincts screamed—Run. NOW.—but before she could shift back, he twitched.
A small motion. Barely noticeable.
Yet every nerve in her body screamed danger.
His fingers spasmed, scraping weakly against tile. His breathing quickened, fast and uneven. His entire body shuddered like he was fighting something deep inside.
"Hey—" she murmured, lowering herself a little, trying to be less threatening. "You're good. Breathe. Just—"
She never finished.
The shift happened in a single, breathless instant.
One moment he was crouched on all fours—weak, trembling—
and the next—
The world blurred.
Jane didn't even see his arm move. She only felt the monstrous strength that clamped around her throat.
Her back slammed into the cold, wet floor with brutal force, knocking the air from her lungs. Her dagger slipped from her sheath, clattering and skidding across the tiles. Her vision exploded into white sparks.
He mounted her, breath ragged, sweat dripping from his chin. His eyes glowing faint crimson, pupils dilated into sharp slits. Panic. Instinct. Something feral. Something not human.
Jane's, one hands clawed at his wrist, trying to pry him off, but his grip was steel. While the other desperately scrambled for the dagger. Her lungs burned, stars flickering across her vision. The pressure crushed her windpipe, her kicks growing weaker as her strength drained.
"P-please…" she rasped, voice barely a breath. "I'm—here to—help…"
For a heartbeat—
just one—
she saw confusion flicker in his expression. A crack in the feral mask.
His fingers trembled. His eyes softened—
then dimmed, the glow fading like dying coals.
He blinked.
And suddenly—his grip broke.
Jane rolled onto her side, coughing, air tearing painfully into her lungs. She held her throat, tears stinging her eyes as each breath scraped along her bruised windpipe. Her vision swam, her heart hammering so hard she felt it in her skull.
The young man mounted on her frozen above her, trembling violently, staring at his own hands like they were foreign, cursed things. His breath came in frantic bursts, guilt twisting his features.
Jane tried dragging herself away from under him as he forced out a hoarse whisper. "G-get off from me…"
He didn't move. Didn't respond.
He only stared at his trembling fingers, horror etched across his face as if realizing what he'd nearly done.
The air between them thickened with fear and confusion. Neither spoke. Neither breathed properly. Her heart pounded against her ribs like it was trying to escape. His eyes dimmed further—like embers fading into ash.
Then—
"GET OFF HER!"
The shout exploded through the room, shattering the fragile quiet.
Jane barely had time to turn her head before a blur of motion shot into her peripheral vision—fast, furious, and armed.