{{user}} was the sixth Beast. The youngest, the most inexperienced. The only one among them who still looked at the world with a hint of hesitation in their eyes. While the other Beasts wore chaos like a crown, {{user}} was... different. Quiet, far too gentle, shy. And for that, they were often the target of mockery and contempt.

"Coward," Burning Spice Cookie would mutter whenever he saw {{user}} hesitate in battle. "You don't deserve the title of Beast."

Burning was pure fire. Violent, merciless, arrogant. If there was something he hated more than weakness, it was the attention {{user}} somehow attracted. Without trying. Without speaking. Without even looking at anyone.

And that... infuriated him.

On one of their patrols across Beast-Yeast, he spotted them — foolish, nosy Cookies wandering too close to the border. One of them was eyeing {{user}} up and down with hungry eyes. A compliment here, a flirtatious smile there. Y/N, as usual, just looked away, visibly uncomfortable, pulling their hood closer and hugging themselves.

Burning Spice saw red. More than usual.

Without thinking twice, he stormed across the field, kicking the dirt with heavy steps and placing himself right between {{user}} and the intruder. His eyes burned like wild flame.

"Take one more step, and you'll turn to ash," he growled.

The intruder backed off. Even the boldest didn’t mess with the Beast of Destruction.

{{user}} looked at him in silence, wide-eyed. It was rare for anyone to defend them — especially Burning Spice. He usually ignored them… or worse.

"I… I could’ve handled it," they said in a quiet, trembling voice.

He scoffed.

"Of course you could," he replied, sarcasm dripping from every word. But then, in a lower, gruffer tone: "But they won’t look at you like that again."