Mark Williamson watched the chaos erupt with an expression of pure indifference. Gunfire had failed. Reinforcements had come. But nothing surprised him — not even the teachers' last-minute resistance.
"This is a big school," he muttered under his breath, voice calm as a breeze before a storm. "I figured they'd have some kind of backup plan. But this pathetic?" He smirked, casting a cold glance at the battlefield. "Fine. Let me show you my backup plan."
With deliberate ease, Mark slid off his beast — a monstrous, buffalo-like creature, its dark hide pulsing with raw muscle, veins like twisted roots along its flanks. Its amber eyes gleamed with a hungry madness. The creature stood still for a breath, then vanished behind Mark in a blur of motion.
And then it charged.
With a roar like breaking mountains, the beast stormed forward, its heavy hooves shaking the earth. Horns like curved blades impaled and tossed anything in their path. Animals — the small, loyal ones brought by the teachers — were hurled like toys, crushed under its weight. Screeches, howls, and whimpers of agony filled the air. Fur and feathers scattered across the bloodied grass.
A deer-like creature attempted to run — too slow. The beast rammed into it, sending the poor thing flying. It hit the ground with a sharp crack, its legs snapping like twigs. Onlookers gasped. Horror froze their hearts. But they couldn't move, couldn't speak. They were watching a massacre, powerless to stop it.
Mark stood tall amidst the carnage, arms folded, an amused gleam in his eye. His laughter echoed across the battlefield, sharp and cruel.
"I warned you," he called out, voice rising over the dying screams. "I told you not to mess with me. I might not be a licensed Beast Tamer..." He tilted his head arrogantly, "...but I don't need to be. My monsters are enough to shock anyone."
The slaughter continued. The buffalo trampled anything that dared to move, its eyes wild, mouth foaming.
At the edge of the chaos, John stood frozen, his mind racing. Fear gripped his throat like a vice. This plan failed too... He looked at Luna, who clutched Thomas protectively behind her. Principal Anthony, wounded but defiant, stood ahead of them, blood trickling from his temple.
Then came the order.
"What are you waiting for, you idiots? Shoot them!" Mark bellowed, eyes blazing.
The bodyguards snapped to attention, rifles rising. Muzzles glinted in the dim light, all aimed at John, Luna, Thomas, and Anthony. Fingers on triggers.
John's heart stopped.
No...
The air split with the thunder of gunfire.
John flinched. So did Luna. Anthony grabbed Thomas. Their eyes shut instinctively, bracing for death. But the pain never came.
Seconds passed.
Then — silence.
Cautiously, they opened their eyes… and gasped.
Something huge stood between them and the bullets.
A figure loomed like a living wall — massive, majestic, and radiating an aura that made even the air vibrate. At first, they couldn't see what it was. The size, the presence — it was too overwhelming.
Then the dust cleared.
And they saw it.
A lion. Not just any lion — a colossal one. Its golden mane blazed like fire, and its muscles coiled with terrifying power. Its eyes glowed with a fierce, divine intensity. It stood tall, unshaken, the bullets lying spent and useless around its paws.
It looked… familiar.
John's breath caught in his throat. "Wait... isn't that—?"
Before he could finish, their eyes moved upward.
Atop the lion sat a young man. Calm. Confident. His black coat fluttered gently in the wind. He sat with regal posture, one hand resting on the lion's mane, the other casually on his knee. His expression was unreadable, but his gaze — piercing and unwavering — swept across John, Luna, and the others like a silent judgment.
The battlefield fell into an eerie stillness.
The lion exhaled slowly, the sound like distant thunder.
And the man atop the beast finally spoke.