The sound of crackling fire snapped Sirus awake.
"Wha—what the hell happened?!" His eyes flew open. All around him, the forest burned. Smoke curled like serpents through the trees. As he tried to push himself up, his arms failed him. His limbs were numb, heavy like lead. Panic surged through his chest as the fires inched closer, their hungry tongues reaching for him.
He shut his eyes. Calm… focus…
Breathing in deeply, he slipped into a state of stillness, imagining movement before it came.
Minutes passed.
"Now—move."
With a sudden jolt, his body obeyed. Muscles twitched to life, nerves reignited by adrenaline. The tingling persisted, but he ignored it. His eyes scanned the space—he was surrounded. Four massive trees loomed at each corner, their thick branches interwoven like a natural cage.
"What the hell is this?" he muttered. "Where am I… and why are the trees acting like prison bars?"
Instinctively, he patted his coat. His dagger was missing.
"And where the hell is my b—my brush?!"
He glanced around frantically. A glint caught his eye—his dagger, lodged deep in one of the surrounding trees. Just beyond reach.
He gritted his teeth. "Right… I put the brush in my pocket." A quick check confirmed it.
The branches stood between him and freedom. He raised a clawed hand, but stopped himself. "I can't keep using these claws for everything. I'll just snap them off…"
With a growl, he braced himself and started breaking the branches with brute force. Snap after snap, he clawed his way toward the embedded dagger. It took six long minutes, but he finally hacked through the last branch. The moment he emerged—he froze.
Hell greeted him.
Flames towered like titans, three stories high. Creatures—monsters, wildlife—sprinted in agony, their bodies ablaze. The air was thick with screams.
"This…" Sirus muttered, his eyes darkening, "this is what comes of human arrogance. Always choosing fire over reason."
He scanned for an escape, but the inferno had no clear exit. "Any way is fine… I'm faster than the flames… But he hesitated. No. Think. I was heading down the river…"
"The river!"
But the suffocating heat made it nearly impossible to see clearly. Every direction shimmered with lethal heat. Then he glanced behind him—the trees that caged him were untouched by fire.
A chance.
He scaled one quickly, climbing through the smoke-choked branches. Minutes later, he perched near the top, chest heaving. Beneath him, the forest floor had become a sea of fire.
Then—relief. In the distance, he saw it: the house he'd stayed in. If the house stood, the river was nearby. But another sight froze his blood.
A line of mages stood near the riverbank, their hands raised in unison.
"So it was them… All this, just for me?" His claws tightened. "What makes me so dangerous that they'd burn the world to kill me?"
He descended the tree, leaping branch to branch with feral grace.
…
Meanwhile…
"Have you confirmed the demon is dead? I need to know!" the officer barked, fury on the edge of madness.
The mages exchanged anxious glances.
One stepped forward. "With all due respect, sir… the fires are interfering. We can't locate his mana signature."
The officer's fist clenched. He raised it—and stopped himself. "I lost my temper. And now…" His voice dropped. "I failed you, Philip."
Behind him, a crowd had gathered—villagers, wide-eyed and afraid. The forest had been their lifeblood. Now it was ash.
"Why did you burn the forest?!" someone shouted.
"You need to leave now, or we'll make you leave!"
Tension crackled. Several men stepped forward, fists clenched.
"Halt! This is business of the Holy Church!" the officer snapped.
They didn't listen.
"Form a temporary [Barrier] until we're finished."
"Sir… we're out of mana."
"Fuck!"
He scanned his options. Threats? Useless. Intimidation? Waning. He opened his mouth to call the mages again—
—and choked.
Blood gushed from his mouth. He looked down.
A dagger was buried in his chest. His heart stopped. His eyes blurred, catching the image of his wife and unborn child before he collapsed with a hollow thud.
"Wow," a voice chuckled. "That was easier than I thought."
The mages were frozen in horror. Before them stood a demon cloaked in shadow and blood—Sirus. He grinned.
"Now… who's next?"
He ripped the dagger free, licking the blood with a feral smirk.
The mages still hadn't reacted. That second of delay cost them everything.
Sirus hurled the dagger—dead center into a mage's forehead. Dirt flew as he sprinted forward, faster than the eye could follow. He appeared before another and kicked him square in the gut. Bones shattered. The blast of force embedded shards into nearby mages. Screams echoed.
Panic surged. The survivors tried to cast spells—but they were drained. Their mana gone. Their fate sealed.
Sirus tore through them like a storm of blades and fury. One after another, bodies fell, bones crushed, organs ruptured. In less than a minute—it was done.
He stood motionless. Rain began to fall.
Blood soaked his hands, dripping from his claws.
Not a soul in the village dared speak. Children were hushed, their mouths covered by trembling hands.
Sirus tilted his head back and began to laugh—a terrible, echoing sound swallowed by the storm above.