The alley was silent.

Central City’s usual hum had faded into the distance, replaced by the echo of Envy’s uneven footsteps and the sharp sting of pain radiating through his body. He collapsed against the brick wall, breath shallow, blood trailing down his arm in thick, unnatural streaks.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

He was a homunculus. A primordial force. A creature born of wrath and perfected through centuries of manipulation. He didn’t bleed like this. He didn’t feel like this.

And yet—

His body refused to regenerate.

His shape-shifting abilities were gone.

He tried again, gritting his teeth, willing his form to shift, to stretch, to change—but nothing happened. Just pain. Just silence.

“Dammit…” he hissed, voice low and trembling.

He didn’t know what those damn alchemists had done. Some kind of transmutation trap? A cursed seal? A weapon designed to pierce even his core? Whatever it was, it had worked. Too well.

Now he was alone.

Wounded.

Human.

The alley stretched around him like a tomb, damp and cold, lit only by the flickering glow of a distant streetlamp. He could hear footsteps somewhere far off—indistinct, uncaring. No one knew he was here. No one would come.

And for the first time in a long time, Envy felt something he hadn’t felt in years.

Fear.

Not of death.

But of weakness.

Of being seen like this.

Of being less.

He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms, fury rising like bile in his throat. He would recover. He had to. And when he did, he’d make them pay.

All of them.