Born Of Rage

Ariel stood at death’s door—bones shattered, body broken—but his heart burned with fury, madness, and murder.

“How dare you touch Ilya?!”

He punched the already dead monster again and again, like a man possessed. Blood streamed from his face, but he didn’t care.

There were still monsters out there. They could still reach her. And that, he would not allow.

His bloodlust boiled hotter than the monsters’ madness. At that moment, Ariel was more of a monster than the monsters themselves.

A voice echoed In his head—distant, distorted—but he was too far gone to hear it.

Suddenly, power surged through him. Pure. Alien. Unrestrained. It wouldn’t save him from death… but it could delay it.

‘I can’t die. If I die… Ilya will be alone. Who’ll save her?!’

Blinded by rage, Ariel sprinted toward the swarm—unstoppable, unthinking.

He ran straight at the towering six-meter abomination—its flesh pulsing with corruption.

And in response, it slammed its monstrous tail across the air.

CRACK.

Ariel’s body flew like a ragdoll.

His vision blurred. Light faded. Darkness began to take hold.

…

Ilya, bloodied and barely conscious, saw her brother collapse.

She screamed—a heart-wrenching cry, raw and full of pain.

“BROTHER!!!”

The abomination turned toward the sound, then sent another beast after her.

The monster moved fast—too fast. It reached the top floor in under 30 seconds.

But what awaited it wasn’t prey.

It was death.

Before it could take a step, it was torn apart—shredded into ribbons in under a second.

The giant abomination froze. One of its kind… was dead? Just like that?

Its gaze snapped back to where Ariel had fallen.

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But the body… was gone.

Then—it felt it. A pressure so suffocating, so primordial, it froze in place.

And just like that—

Agony.

Before it could react, scream, or even understand—

It was being ripped apart.

“ROOOAAARRR!!!”

The abomination’s cry was deafening, but it didn’t last.

Its body collapsed into a pile of torn flesh and shattered bone.

The other monsters felt it.

Felt the death of their alpha.

Felt something worse than death itself moving through the ruins.

And then, they died—from fear alone.

“It dared again. You DARED to hurt Ilya again!”

A storm of murder tore through the battlefield.

Every monster in the vicinity—ripped to shreds.

The entire area bathed in blood and flesh.

‘Ilya… Where is she?!’

Even with death dragging at his heels, Ariel surged forward, faster than thought.

He reached her. Fell. Crawled.

Collapsed beside her—arms wrapping around her fragile, unconscious form.

He couldn’t even keep his eyes open.

But he held her.

Held her like a mother protecting her child from the end of the world.

Then… he faded into darkness.

The two siblings lay there, broken and bloodied, surrounded by ruin.

But still together.

Even as the world tried to tear them apart.

…

A young man lay unconscious on the bed.

His body still, his mind dark—until suddenly, with a sharp gasp, he woke.

His eyes fluttered open, his voice hoarse but panicked:

“Ilya!!”

The shout startled everyone in the room. A few people jumped. One older man stepped forward and gently placed a hand on Ariel’s shoulder.

“Relax, young man. You’re safe now. Just rest for a bit. Yo—”

“Where is Ilya?!” Ariel cut him off, his voice sharp, urgent.

The man blinked, then smiled softly. “Oh… the girl who was with you. She’s fine. Better condition than you, actually—but still unconscious. Not everyone’s awakened like you, you know.”

Ariel barely registered the man’s strange words.

His focus narrowed to one point.

“Where is she?”

The old man nodded toward a nearby door. “There. Just through that room. But wai—”

Ariel was already gone.

The man stood there blinking. “Isn’t he supposed to be… utterly broken? Huh. Young people these days.”

He scratched at the scar over his left eye. Dressed in simple white clothes, the man looked to be in his fifties—though his physique was too healthy, his stance too sharp for someone his age.

He wasn’t just a bystander. He’d seen war. A lot of it.

—

Ariel appeared beside Ilya’s bed in an instant.

The doctor in the room jumped, nearly spilling the chart in his hand.

“Hey! This isn’t a place to barge in like—!”

Ariel ignored him completely. He grabbed a chair and sat beside Ilya, his breath shaky. He reached out, gently patting her head.

Only then did he let out a long, broken sigh.

Relief.

The doctor blinked, then softened. “She’s stable,” he said. “No internal damage. Just exhaustion and trauma. She’ll wake up in two, maybe three days. We’ve done all we can.”

He frowned. “But you—your condition was far worse. You shouldn’t be up, let alone sprinting through the halls. Go lie down, kid. We’ll watch her.”

Ariel didn’t move.

He stayed seated, his eyes locked on Ilya’s face, as if willing her to wake.

Only after a moment of silence did he speak again, his voice low:

“How many people survived?”

“Who brought us here?”

“Who saved us?”

“How long was I unconscious?”

The doctor blinked. “One question at a time, boy. I’m not a machine.”

He sighed. “A lot of people died—awakened, soldiers, some refugees. But most of the civilians made it out. Reinforcements arrived in time. They’re the ones who pulled you from the rubble. That was… two days ago.”

Just then, the door creaked open.

Two people stepped in.

The first was the man who had pointed Ariel to Ilya’s room.

The second was a stranger.

Tall. Powerful. Wearing armor that looked like it had been forged from the bones of a nightmare. Monstrous, sleek, and silent.

Ariel’s eyes narrowed.

The air around this man was different.

Not human. Not monster. Something in between.