Single for Eternity

Far from the bloodbath, beyond the desolate sea of sand, the manticore soared through the sky. Its massive wings flapped with monstrous force, parting the clouds in its wake as it streaked toward its destination.

Hours passed as it traversed the desert with unnatural speed. Until finally—

It arrived.

In the heart of the desert stood a structure that defied comprehension. A colossal temple, forged from the bones of civilizations long lost to time. Massive pillars carved with ancient runes held up its magnificent structure. Dark, swirling auras of death and ruin clung to the temple like a lingering plague.

The manticore descended gracefully before the towering gates.

Without hesitation—

ROOOAAARR!!

Its thunderous roar shattered the silence, sending tremors rippling through the sands. The temple's gate shuddered before creaking open, a surge of cold, deathly wind flooding out. The beast braced itself, shivering beneath the ominous pressure emanating from within.

With cautious reverence, the manticore stepped inside.

The hallways were vast, stretched impossibly long, adorned with grotesque murals depicting the carnage of forgotten civilizations. Malformed, otherworldly creatures decorated the pillars—remnants of ancient, unspeakable horrors.

And at the heart of the temple, seated upon an exquisite obsidian throne, was—

Her.

The monarch of this desolate domain.

Her beauty was otherworldly, yet terrifying. Long teal hair cascaded down her alluring figure, flowing like strands of silk. Her skin, pale and flawless, gave off an ethereal glow. But it was her eyes—two serpentine golden orbs—that exuded absolute authority and malice.

The very air in the temple shivered beneath her presence.

Her expression was a mixture of amusement and disdain, like a queen entertaining a pet. She draped her arm lazily over the armrest, propping her chin with her hand as she watched the manticore approach.

It instantly bowed.

"…Your Majesty."

Her lips curled into a faint smirk, her voice dangerously seductive. "What news do you bring, beast?"

The manticore dared not raise its head.

"An interesting prey has entered your territory, my queen," it spoke in a submissive tone.

The woman arched an eyebrow, momentarily intrigued. "Prey, you say?"

The manticore swallowed hard before continuing.

"Your Majesty, a few months prior, I encountered a weak human in the outskirts of your domain. I toyed with the insignificant creature, but I never bothered to kill it. It was too feeble to matter."

The woman's expression didn't shift.

"Then why do you bring this triviality before me?" Her voice was cold, laced with mild impatience.

The beast shivered.

"Because… I saw that very same human again," it confessed. "But this time… it was different."

A flicker of genuine interest bloomed in the queen's gaze. "…Explain."

The manticore's voice trembled.

"The human—he was fighting a horde of the mindless beasts from the outer desert. Alone. Without hesitation. Without fear."

The queen didn't seem impressed. "And?"

"…He was butchering them."

That caught her attention. Her fingers lightly tapped against the armrest.

The beast hastily continued. "He was not awakened. His flesh, his bones—still mortal. Yet his strength rivaled that of a newly awakened. His reflexes, his precision—were beyond human comprehension."

The queen's eyes narrowed. "…Is he awakened?"

The beast shook its head vigorously. "No, Your Majesty. His body is still vulnerable. The beasts wounded him, and I could smell the mortality in his blood. But—"

The beast stammered.

"…But what?" she asked coldly.

"…He healed."

The air froze.

"…Elaborate."

The manticore swallowed hard. "I had severed his arm when I first encountered him… yet now, it was intact. Not only that, but during the battle, I witnessed his wounds… closing themselves. Even the gash from a serpent's tail was mending within moments."

A chilling silence engulfed the room.

Then—

"Ha…hahaha…"

A soft, seductive laugh escaped the queen's lips, her sharp canines peeking out as she chuckled.

"…How interesting."

Her gaze darkened. Her smile widened unnaturally. "A mortal… who hasn't awakened… yet heals like an immortal?"

She leaned back, resting her chin on her palm, her amusement morphing into dark intrigue.

"…Leave him."

The beast's head shot up. "Your Majesty?"

She smiled, her eyes glinting with something sinister. "Let him grow… and when he is strong enough—"

The temperature in the room plummeted.

"Bring him to me."

...

Back in the carnage-strewn battlefield, the desert was silent.

The lifeless carcasses of countless creatures littered the sands, painting the ground with green, black, and crimson viscera. The stench of death hung thick in the air.

Amidst the bloodbath, Einar stood motionless.

His naked torso was smeared with blood—some his own, most belonging to the monsters. Deep, gaping wounds littered his body… yet they were already closing.

Atop a massive serpent's corpse, his scarlet eyes locked onto Laura.

She shuddered.

Her heart sank when she realized his gaze wasn't human anymore.

"…Einar?"

Her voice cracked.

He didn't answer. Instead, his figure blurred. In the blink of an eye, he appeared directly in front of her.

"Ah—!"

Laura gasped, her entire body seizing with terror. Her mind screamed, He knows! He knows I saw!

Tears welled in her eyes. She stumbled back. "P-please… I won't say anything. Just… spare my sisters."

Einar stared at her.

His gaze was void of empathy. Hollow.

She closed her eyes, bracing for death.

But instead of cold steel—she felt warmth.

"…Eh?"

Her eyes snapped open as Einar's arm wrapped around her waist. His firm, blood-soaked hand pulled her close, his breath brushing against her ear.

"Ahhh—"

A soft, humiliating moan escaped her lips as he gripped her firmly. Her face burned in embarrassment.

Her terror turned to anger.

"…You bastard."

Einar chuckled darkly. His previous cold demeanor momentarily replaced by amusement. "Were you always this dramatic?"

"Go to hell."

His wolfish grin only widened. "I already did."

And with that, he pulled her even closer—his hand never leaving her waist.