Vixen's voice echoed through the temple courtyard, but the uncle's laughter only grew louder, deeper — like something was clawing its way up from within him.
The blade in his hand bit into his own skin.
Dark, viscous blood dripped to the ground, sizzling as it touched the earth. The smell of burning flesh filled the air.
The villagers hiding inside the temple clutched each other, trembling.
Even the sacred lamps flickered violently, as though some unseen wind had swept through.
Vixen stepped forward, his Alpha pheromone surging again — a protective wall for both the deity's altar and the trembling villagers.
But it was then… the uncle's body jerked unnaturally. His head snapped back, his eyes rolling upward until only the whites remained.
The cut on his throat did not spill blood as it should have.
Instead, thick black smoke poured from the wound, twisting upward like living tendrils.
A voice — not his own — spilled from his mouth.
Deep. Echoing. Inhuman.
"Finally… a vessel worthy of My name."
Vixen's heart pounded, but his stance did not falter.
"You think I'll let you finish this?!" he roared, his voice cutting through the dark air.
But the uncle's form was already changing — his fingers stretching into claws, his skin darkening to a sickly gray, veins glowing faintly crimson beneath. The smell of decay thickened, choking the breath from the air.
The cultists who had been defeated moments ago stirred again, as if the Demon God's presence had given them renewed life. Their heads bowed low, chanting an unholy prayer in a language no human tongue should speak.
Vixen knew — if the transformation was completed here, within the deity's temple grounds, the protective blessings would shatter. And if that happened, Zemura Village would be nothing but ash by sunrise.
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