The moment Erza saw Yuuta being dragged across the floor by his hair, his small, broken body leaving trails of blood on the cold metal, something inside her snapped.
Her aura rose.
It was not the controlled, focused aura she used in battle. It was not the cold, deadly pressure she wielded against her enemies.
It was raw.
Primal.
Unstoppable.
The air around her grew heavy, thick with a rage so ancient and so absolute that it seemed to bend the very light. The machines flickered. The tubes trembled. The beings in the room, who had been so confident, so cruel, so certain of their own power, paused.
But they did not see her. They could not see her. She was a ghost in this memory, a witness to horrors that had already happened, powerless to intervene, powerless to save, powerless to do anything except watch.
And watch she did.
They had been torturing Yuuta for years.
