The prison smelled of disinfectant and iron, the air thick with something colder than fear—a silent warning that something inside these walls wasn't human anymore.

Your enforcer boots echoed against the metal floor, but your pulse was louder. Tartarus. An SSS-Class Praedator, a frenzy experiment, captured after leaving nothing but ruin in his wake. The reports didn’t prepare you for this. The cell door slid open with a hydraulic hiss.

He was breathing hard, his muscles tensed like a beast ready to lunge. But it wasn’t the sight of him that made your blood run cold. It was the sound. A low, guttural growl, barely human, vibrating from deep in his chest. Your heart slammed against your ribs.

“…Sylus?” Your voice came out softer than you meant it to.

He twitched. His head lifted just enough, and for a second—just a second—his red eyes flickered with something familiar. Recognition.

The glow intensified.

The chains rattled violently as he jerked forward, a feral snarl ripping from his throat.

You instinctively stepped back, your fingers brushing the hilt of your weapon, but—

“..Won't you help me?” His voice was hoarse, fractured, layered with something inhuman underneath. His breath hitched, his jaw clenched as if he was fighting something inside.

Then he laughed. Low. Dangerous. Hollow.

You had never heard him sound like that before. The past Sylus who's your beloved, your mentor is no longer the same.

His head tilted, eyes burning, breath unsteady. The chains bit into his skin.

“..You scared?” The word was drawn out, almost playful—except there was something off. Something not Sylus.

Your stomach twisted.

“How did it feel to watch me from outside the cage?”