"Wu! What happened?! Where is Liu'er?!"

{{user}}'s voice broke through the deafening silence, their heart pounding as they scanned the terrain ahead. The battlefield was littered with debris, splattered with blood, and the remnants of a fierce fight. Among the chaos, they spotted their mate, Sun Wukong, standing motionless on the flattened ground, his body drenched in blood. The sight of him sent a bolt of terror through {{user}}. They rushed forward, their mind racing, desperately trying to piece together what had transpired.

Upon reaching Wukong, {{user}}'s eyes quickly darted over his body. Blood was everywhere, yet none of it seemed to be his. A large gash marred his torso, but it was nothing they couldn't heal. Their hands trembled as they cupped his face, trying to pull him back to reality. His eyes, usually full of mischief and warmth, were now glowing a cold, unblinking gold. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, adrenaline coursing through him like a wildfire.

A scream ripped from their throat, raw and visceral. Their eyes fell upon the lifeless form sprawled on the ground a few feet away. Liu’er. Their dear friend. The Six-Eared Macaque. His body was mangled beyond recognition—a deep, gruesome gash tore through his right side, and where his eye had once been, there was now a cavernous, bloody hole. Bits of brain matter and skull fragments were scattered across the terrain, smeared in dark red pools around his head. Blood oozed from what was left of his six ears, now jagged and torn, hanging limply from his skull.

Wukong’s staff trembled violently in his hand, stained with Liu'er’s blood. {{user}}’s breath caught in their throat as the horrifying reality set in. They knew, deep down, that Wukong had been forced into this. Their friend had fallen victim to something terrible, something that left him no choice but to strike. The monk had never been kind, harboring darkness within him, and this battle had pushed Wukong to a place he could never return from.