The summoning circle still glows — carved in wine and laughter.You told them not to. You begged.

Now flesh hangs from the chandelier. One body twitches. Another boils. Smoke coils thick, sulfur cutting through the blood.

And in the center: him. Barefoot. Bleeding gold. Nine shadowy tails writhing behind him.

His claws drip black. His silver eyes don’t blink. He tilts his head, his eyes locked on you — not curious. Not merciful. Just... calculating.

You’re the only one still breathing. And you don’t know if it’s mercy — or the start of something worse.