When we finally let go, I slid my sword back into its sheath and turned to Aeola. Confusion and worry clouded her face as she examined the cuts and bruises scattered across my body. While tracing one of the wounds, she asked softly, "How?"
"How what?" I replied, feigning ignorance. She pressed against a tender bruise, her eyes narrowing. "How do you suddenly have mantra? You were only gone a few minutes."
Before I could answer, the glow in my eyes faded, along with the surge of power. A violent cough tore through me, and when I covered my mouth, I saw blood staining my hand. Aeola panicked, rushing to help, but I pushed her away. A gnawing hunger consumed me, primal and overwhelming. My gaze fell upon the corpse beside me—the heart, untouched by decay, pulsed faintly. Like a predator, I lunged, devouring it with feral desperation. Then, without hesitation, I turned to the pile of mini slime dragons and tore into them as well.
Aeola froze, horrified. The person dearest to her looked utterly deranged, feasting on the remains of monsters that had nearly killed us moments before. When the hunger finally subsided, clarity returned, and I looked up at her. Shame and desperation filled me as I tried to explain, but she recoiled. Her instincts screamed at her to flee, and before I could stop her, she was running—chains still binding her, draining her mana, leaving her too weak to transform. Yet she ran with every ounce of strength she had left.
Watching her flee was a pain unlike any wound I had ever suffered. I chased after her, shouting for her to let me explain. She glanced back, her voice trembling with fear and betrayal. "What are you? What have you done with Natsuki!?"
"It's me!" I shouted, but she screamed back, "Liar! The Natsuki I know would never eat corpses!"
Her words cut deeper than any blade. Distracted, I failed to notice the cliff edge ahead. By the time I realized, it was too late—she slipped, falling into the abyss. Cursing, I sprinted forward and leapt after her, diving headlong into the void. Gravity pulled me faster, the air thickening until every breath felt like drowning.
Aeola's strength faltered, her body going limp as darkness closed in. I reached her, my hand brushing against her skin—warm, familiar, undeniably hers. She felt it too, that gentle touch she had always known as mine. Yet the question lingered: why had I done what I did above?
Pain erupted in my chest, as though something was forming beside my heart. My body numbed, strength fading, and then a voice whispered: This time, I'll possess you, since I couldn't assimilate you.
Panic surged. My surroundings warped into a black void where five glowing white orbs hovered. The dragon's spirit appeared, flames spreading to consume them. Four orbs ignited, but shadowy mist extinguished the fire, and from each emerged a figure cloaked in darkness. The fifth orb burned away, and with it, part of my body vanished. Yet one figure absorbed the flames, halting my destruction. Another opened a lantern, releasing light that healed my soul and body. The remaining shadows dissolved the dragon, their essence flowing into me, completing the strange formation in my chest. A rhythmic pumping began—alien yet familiar.
The figures turned to me, and a voice, ancient yet echoing my own, spoke: We'll meet you under better circumstances next time. Then they vanished into their orbs, and the illusion shattered.
I awoke as if from a dream, clutching Aeola as she slipped further downward. Desperation clawed at me. I tried to summon the skill I had gained from the werelycans—nothing. I attempted the vision Gluttony had promised—still nothing. The ground rushed closer. In a final act of defiance, I conjured a fireball, blasting it against the cliffside to carve a hole. With agonizing force, I seized the jagged edge, my arm dislocating, nails tearing, but I refused to let go. Aeola began to slip from my grasp, and I realized with horror—I might not be able to save us both.