The Locktooth Hound crouched low, its massive frame coiled like a drawn bowstring. A guttural growl rumbled from its throat—less a warning than a promise.
At the princess's silent command, it was ready to tear through space itself, claws aimed to sink into the throat of its prey.
To Crystal, this was more than intimidation—it was an ultimatum.
She had offered the arrogant Earthling a choice.
And he had chosen foolishness.
Now, only the might of the royal bloodline could carve respect into his bones.
Yet Joren remained unmoved.
Just as the creeping frost reached the hem of his coat—
Sizzle.
The sound cut through the air like a hot blade slicing butter.
From Joren's feet, a golden ripple unfurled in utter silence.
Where it touched, the thick layer of ice dissolved instantly—snow vanishing beneath a summer sun. A perfect circle bloomed around him: warm as spring, untouched by winter's bite. Outside its edge, the cold still gnawed at the world.
Woof…
The hound's growl faltered into a whimper. Tail tucked tight between its legs, it shrank behind Crystal, eyes wide with primal fear.
It wasn't just heat.
It was presence—the radiance of the sun made manifest, the quiet rhythm of life itself.
Crystal gasped. Her connection to the water in the air snapped like a severed thread.
"You…" Her voice trembled. "Who are you?"
Magic? No. Mages bore the sharp tang of runes, the weight of incantation.
But this energy—steady, golden, inexorable—was something else entirely.
It didn't command nature. It was nature. Warm. Unhurried. Inescapable.
Joren stepped forward.
The sanctuary moved with him, gliding across the frozen ground like dawn chasing night. Frost evaporated in his wake, as if the very memory of cold had been erased.
Ripple Walk?
No. This wasn't a technique.
This was a stroll.
"Stop! Don't come closer!" Crystal cried, stumbling back.
Her royal composure cracked.
Her power—useless.
Her loyal beast—reduced to a trembling shadow.
And the "ordinary human" before her? He hadn't even raised his voice.
He halted three meters away—placing her precisely on the threshold of his warmth.
"Now," he said, voice calm as still water, "we can talk differently."
Crystal swallowed hard, forcing her breath to steady.
Force would only humiliate her further.
Status? A hollow bluff against someone who melted winter with a step.
She needed new ground.
"Alright…" Her voice came out rough, raw. "Let's talk."
A pause. Then, quieter:
"I admit—I underestimated you. Your power… it's beyond anything I've seen. And for my arrogance… I apologize."
She gave a slight bow—a standard royal curtsy.
The sudden shift made Joren raise an eyebrow.
Flexible. Adaptable.
Perhaps this so-called "princess" wasn't entirely foolish.
"However," she said, lifting her head, her gaze sharpening into something solemn, "my stance will not change."
"Muse—that madman you call by name—he must be taken by us. This isn't merely Inhuman law. It concerns the survival of our entire race."
Her eyes flicked to the puddle of mud staining the rooftop. Her voice grew heavier.
"Do you know what Terrigen Crystals are?"
Joren said nothing.
Crystal continued, as if unaware—or perhaps uncaring—that he already knew: "They're the catalyst that awakens the latent genes within us. The transformation is called the Terrigenesis. But it's unpredictable. No one knows what they'll become… or what powers they'll gain."
"Muse was a wild Inhuman. He underwent Terrigenesis alone, out in the world, with no guidance, no support. His mind shattered during the process—and his power twisted toward cruelty, toward madness."
"He carries the core genetic secrets of our people. If he falls into human hands—if organizations like S.H.I.E.L.D. or Stark Industries get hold of him—they'll dissect him like a lab specimen. They'll map our genome, expose our weaknesses… even replicate our abilities to forge weapons designed specifically to hunt us."
"At that point," she said, locking eyes with Joren, "it won't just be about one madman killing a few innocents. It'll become a war—a systematic purge of our entire race."
A gust of wind swept across the rooftop, tangling in her long orange hair.
In that moment, she wasn't a haughty princess. She was a leader—desperate, resolute—making a final plea to a force beyond reckoning.
Yare… yare…
Joren fell silent.
What she said made sense.
Handing over a living repository of Inhuman genetics to humans would be catastrophic.
Trouble.
And one trouble always begat a worse one.
He glanced at Muse, still twitching faintly on the ground.
Then at Crystal—her eyes wide with quiet desperation.
Finally, his gaze settled on the giant dog trembling beside her.
"Your dog," he said. "Can it go anywhere?"
Crystal blinked, caught off guard. "Theoretically… yes. As long as Locktooth knows or can sense a location, he can teleport there."
"Good." Joren nodded. "Find someone for me. A woman who attacked me. Telepath. Controls animals. Calls herself Kingpin's 'Queen.'"
He spoke succinctly, without embellishment.
"Aren't you supposed to bear consequences? Offer compensation?"
"These are my terms."
"Bring her to me—alive. Then you can take this piece of trash." He jerked his chin toward Muse. "Judge him. Rehabilitate him. I don't care."
"I don't
care about your race's survival. I don't care if humans declare war. I deal only with the trouble standing in front of me."
Visit patreon.com/ShiroTL for more chapters.