Chapter 7 – Rescue Under Fire and the Silent Invasion
With the bullies defeated and Ken unconscious, the fragile truce on the rooftop lasted barely a breath. Time became their most ruthless enemy.
Cristal stood up, her face carved by barely restrained fury and rising panic. Without needing any command, Bruno crouched, slid one arm beneath Titus's destroyed body, and lifted him with terrifying ease—holding him against his massive chest as if Titus weighed nothing more than a feather.
They sprinted toward the stairwell.
As they reached the lower level, Walter appeared—shaking, nerves devouring him, his crutches trembling violently beneath his weight.
"W‑what happened?! Guys—what h‑happened to Titus?! Why is he so beaten?!" Walter cried out, voice cracking under the pressure.
"Shut up!" Bruno bellowed without stopping. His voice echoed like a thunderclap, sharp and urgent. "Where's the infirmary?!"
"Second floor—I‑I'll guide you!" Walter stammered, hobbling ahead as fast as he could manage.
The Silent Invasion
As they rushed toward the infirmary wing, something outside shook the entire campus. A black armored Cadillac SUV rolled to a stop with military precision in front of Clear Creek Private College.
Eight figures stepped out. Heavy, muscular men dressed in tactical gear, carrying assault weapons—moving with deadly coordination, like predators unleashed.
The Infirmary Dilemma
Cristal, Bruno, and Walter reached the infirmary wing only to find it completely abandoned. Not a single nurse. Not a sound. Not even the faint smell of antiseptic.
Bruno lowered Titus onto one of the examination beds. Titus's breathing was shallow—barely there. His body no longer responded to the miracle healing the twins had performed the day before. Something was horribly wrong.
Meanwhile, across campus, chaos erupted in the Teachers' Hall—a massacre unseen, unheard, but deeply felt.
Inside the infirmary, the atmosphere was equally harrowing. Titus's bruised and battered body began to convulse—violently, unnaturally—like something monstrous was trying to tear its way out.
Cristal, alone with her brother, stared at Titus's face—a face twisted in agony beyond reason.
Bruno looked up, his golden eyes fixed on the ceiling as if he could see the conspiracy tightening its claws around them.
"We have to do it," Bruno whispered, fear trembling faintly beneath his strength. "He might die."
Cristal knew exactly what he meant: the ritual. The forbidden healing. The act that had saved Titus once… and might kill him now.
Cristal trembled, but her voice carried a fierce urgency: "Bruno, do it! DO IT!" she cried. "If he dies… all our hope dies with him. Everyone depends on us!"
Bruno met her gaze—fear and fury colliding in those predatory golden irises. "You know what could happen if it goes wrong," he growled. "He could turn into a berserker. Not even the two of us together could stop him."
"I know," Cristal whispered. Both conviction and terror lived in her voice. "But we don't have a choice."
Without another word, she reached into her boot and pulled out a karambit—the curved blade gleaming like a tiger's claw. In one swift, precise motion, she sliced her palm. Her blood—thick, luminous, unsettlingly golden—dripped directly into Titus's mouth.
The Transformation
The reaction was instant—and catastrophic. It felt as if molten glass had been poured straight into Titus's veins. His back arched off the gurney, tendons snapping taut. His scream died in his throat—trapped by spasms—reduced to a guttural, wet groan.
The healing wasn't healing. It was mutating him.
His bones didn't mend. They stretched. Curved. Expanded. He heard bone shatter inside his own ears—his ribs pulling apart, his shoulders widening, his skeleton twisting into something ancient and predatory. Each stretched millimeter was torture beyond imagining.
His once‑weak muscles swelled and knotted beneath the skin, binding violently to his new bone structure. His feet contorted grotesquely—metatarsal bones elongating, toes bending backward, preparing him for running… hunting… killing.
It was a metamorphosis of agony, a biological annihilation of his humanity.
Mind Collapse
Simultaneously, Titus's consciousness fractured. His childish panic was swallowed by a black rage, an instinct so primal it didn't even belong to him. His eyes dried, boiled with hatred—turning pitch black, glossy, dripping. Fangs tore through his gums with wet, ripping sounds. A bone muzzle pushed forward, splitting skin. White fur erupted in pulsing blisters beneath his flesh.
Kill them! Rip them apart! Destroy everything! a guttural voice roared inside his skull—a voice not his own.
Failure and Realization
"Cristal, it didn't work! What did we do wrong?!" Bruno shouted, struggling to hold the thrashing creature Titus had become.
"I KNOW it didn't work!" Cristal shrieked, panic clawing at her throat. She dropped the bloodsoaked karambit. "Let me THINK—WHY isn't it working?!"
Bruno tried to speak, but Cristal snapped: "SHUT UP, BRUNO—I'M THINKING!"
She closed her eyes, forcing her brilliant mind to cut through the terror. And suddenly—she understood.
Her eyes shot open. "I KNOW!" she cried. "You and I are ONE! The ritual needs both halves of our essence!"
She thrust the karambit into Bruno's hand. "CUT yourself! Use MY blade—and give him YOUR blood! NOW!"
Bruno didn't hesitate. He slashed his palm open—deep, brutal. Despite the exhaustion of wrestling a berserker, he forced his bleeding hand to Titus's transforming mouth.
The moment Bruno's golden blood touched Titus—
It was like two storms of molten fire collided inside him. The agony multiplied—not doubled—multiplied to annihilation.
The berserker's roar twisted into a shriek of metal grinding. Titus's body convulsed so violently the bed screeched against the floor.
Then—
Everything stopped.
Muscles froze mid‑transformation. The white fur recoiled painfully back into his skin. Bones cracked and reformed, shrinking into place. A cold, alien peace drowned the black rage.
For the first time… He felt control.
Bruno exhaled, sweat rolling down his temple. "I think you were right, Cristal," he said, trembling. "I think… it's working."
---
Hook: What came next would be impossible to stop…
---