(Selene's POV)
When I heard the older man's suggestion, I gritted my teeth but nodded in agreement while we continued running through the forest, which reeked of copper and scorched moss. We broke through a final screen of bracken, and there he was, Prince Arthur, or what was left of the young man I'd known.
He stood in the centre of a widening ring of torn earth, surrounded by the twitching remains of First Circle Goblins. Their small, wiry bodies lay in pieces: one still clutching a crude flint knife in a severed hand, another split from crown to crotch like overripe fruit. Blood steamed where it touched the winter-killed grass.
The prince's claws dripped with gore, black living armour crawled across his shoulders, reshaping itself with every breath. His eyes glowed a bright blue, like the waves. Another wave of goblins burst from the undergrowth, chittering, jabbing with bone-tipped spears.
They moved like a single hungry thing. Arthur didn't wait for them to close. He lunged. The motion was wrong, too fast, too liquid. One second, he stood still; the next, he was among them. Claws flashed in arcs, creating a sound that was music to my ears. A goblin's head left its shoulders before its scream could finish.
Another tried to dodge; his arm blurred and came back holding a still-beating heart. I watched as he ate it before moving on to his next target. The prince hit the Goblin with a black fist. The creature's spine snapped with a wet crack as it hit the trunk of an oak before it started devouring the heart.
''Arthur!'' My voice cracked on his name.
He didn't turn. Didn't even seem to hear. Garrick's hand closed hard around my upper arm, stopping me before I could step forward. ''Don't,'' he growled low. ''Look at his aura.''
I forced myself to see. Normally, Arthur's magical signature was clean, bright blue. Now it roiled. Crimson lightning forked around him; black veins pulsed in time with his heartbeat. The Second Circle strength he was burning was eating him from the inside out. Every swing, every kill fed the fire faster.
''He's not stopping,'' I whispered.
''He can't.'' Garrick's jaw was tight enough that the words came out through his teeth. ''The power has locked him in a berserk state, and it's clear he needs to feast. If we don't break it soon, there won't be anything human left to save.''
A fresh Goblin leapt at him from behind. He caught it one-handed by the throat without looking, squeezed, and flung the limp body aside like a rag. The living armour drank the spray of blood; the plates gleamed brighter. My stomach lurched. ''We have to get through to him.''
Garrick released my arm and drew the heavy blade at his hip, the one etched with suppression runes. ''Then we do it fast. I'll anchor him. You talk. If he turns those claws on you...''
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to. I nodded once, throat tight. Arthur finished the last creature with a backhand that caved its skull and sent it cartwheeling into the brush. For a heartbeat, the clearing was quiet except for the wet drip of ichor and his ragged breathing.
Then he turned, and those gorgeous blue eyes locked on us. The armour flexed, claws lengthening another inch. Garrick stepped in front of me, blade raised in both hands. ''Arthur,'' I said, forcing my voice steady even though my pulse roared in my ears. ''It's Selene. You've already killed them. Look at me. Please.''
The prince tilted his head, like a wolf scenting blood. The armour rippled again. And then he took a single step toward us. I raised my blade toward my lord. ''I don't want to fight you, my prince. Please listen to us!''
Without waiting, Arthur lunged at us. I was too quick for my student and dodged his swipe, but Garrick slammed a right hook into the prince's jaw, sending the young man stumbling back. He lashed out, forcing me to move and intercept the surprise attack. I got between the loyal lord and his prince.
Sparks showered around us as my sword locked against the curve of his claws. The impact rang through my arms, but I didn't budge. Neither did he. We stood there, inches apart, breathing the same scorched air. His bright blue eyes, still wild, still beast-like, bore into mine, pupils blown wide with fury and something else I recognised far too well.
I let my lips curve, the kind of smile I usually saved for when we were alone, and the rest of the world didn't exist. ''You look good like this, my prince,'' I murmured, voice low enough that only he could hear. ''All teeth. Makes me wonder what else you can do when you're not trying to kill me.''
A low rumble rolled through his chest, half growl, half something dangerously close to a laugh. I tilted my head, letting a few strands of hair fall across my face as I studied the sharp line of his jaw, the way the moonlight caught on the dark stuff along his shoulders. He looks like something that will change the kingdom.
''But you know,'' I continued, softer now, almost a whisper after thinking, ''I like you best when I can see that stupid, handsome smile of yours. The one that always gets you in trouble.''
His ears flicked at my words. The snarl slowly smoothed from his features. I watched, heart kicking hard against my ribs, as the feral tension bled out of him inch by inch. Claws retracted. The black stuff vanished into his body as his eyes flickered back to normal. By the time the last shimmer of transformation faded, Arthur stood before me in human form again.
Sweat-slicked, shirt torn at the shoulder, breathing ragged, staring at me as I'd just pulled the moon from the sky and handed it to him. I lowered my sword but didn't step back. ''There you are,'' I said, letting the flirtatious edge soften into something warmer, more honest. ''Much better.''
Arthur swallowed once, hard as he gazed at me. Then the corner of his mouth twitched, the smallest, most princely smirk. ''You,'' he rasped, voice still rough from the change, ''are impossible.''
I grinned wider. ''And you love it.''
As the last word left my lips, the prince's eyes rolled back, and his body fell limp. Garrick and the others hurried toward us, fear plain on their faces as they stared at the young man I held. The older lord stepped forward, looking concerned when seeing the third prince. ''Selene, he slaughtered nearly every monster on the first floor. He burned through his mana and ate them. He needs rest and guards to make sure he doesn't eat us,'' he warned.
I smirked. ''No. This is only the beginning, old man. For now, I'll finish off these treacherous fools. Take him back to the manor; he needs to recover from his new powers.''
''Alright, but I'm watching over him, we don't know what he's anymore,'' Garrick said in a tone I didn't want to argue with.
***
(Arthur)
I found myself in darkness once again, wondering if I'll see the gods once again, but this time, an ominous feeling washed over me, and I shivered before glancing around, seeing nothing. What's going on now?
''Little Prince, you need to consume more for us to grow stronger,'' a creepy, deep voice echoed through the blackness.
My back straightened at the sound, and I turned toward it, only to be yanked away. In the next instant, I was standing within my inner world, which was now transformed. The sky burned blood-red above an empty field that stretched for miles in every direction. I took a step forward, then froze.
In the distance, something rose against the red horizon. As I focused, my stomach twisted. It was a pile of corpses. Monsters and the humans I killed were stacked atop one another in a hideous pyramid, limbs bent at impossible angles, jaws still frozen mid-snarl. The stench of ash and iron seemed to cling to the air even here.
I walked closer to it and knew what they were. Every scale, every claw. Monsters from Hollowend's first floor. My gaze dropped instinctively to my chest, searching for reassurance, for my mana cores, the steady anchors that had always been there. What I found made my breath hitch.
There were no cores. Hovering above my Mana Well was the same black orb I saw in the darkness. Only now it was larger. Far larger. It pulsed slowly, hungrily, tendrils of shadow stretching downward as it drank from my mana well, siphoning it endlessly. Each pulse felt like a heartbeat that resonated within me.
The well below it churned violently, distorted, as if struggling not to collapse entirely. ''That's… not right,'' I whispered, though the words felt thin, meaningless.
I shook my head, clearing it of the confusion, and questioned the orb. ''Who or what are you?''
''I am you, you are me, we are now one.''
''Riddles? Really?''
The orb laughed. ''I am your Devourer Core; you need to feed me more energy. I used it all so you could protect yourself, but it won't happen again.''
''Well, thank you for that. It's the second time someone has tried to kill me; it's becoming annoying.''
''Go feast as you have in the dungeon, but we need SO much more to reach High First Circle,'' the orb revealed.
''Makes sense, since I'm hungry now and feel starved,'' I replied with a chuckle, but then got serious. ''What were those claws? They felt like my fingers?''
''Those are my mighty Devourer Claws, among a few gifts you got.''
I was amazed and didn't speak straight away, causing my core to show me something that took me by surprise. ''Here, I'll show you what we have right now in a way you'll understand, prince.''
[Devourer Claws - Stage 1]
[Superhuman Speed/Strength - Stage 1]
[Regeneration -Stage 1]
[Devourer Sense - Stage 1]
''Well, damn. No magic, but these skills look good.''
''We don't need magic! We have claws and other things!'' the orb growled.
I chuckled at its anger. ''So I can use it if I want?''
''No! Well, yes, if we consume the right prey! But spells are not our speciality. We feast on such things!''
''Interesting, now what are these stages? I'm assuming the skills get stronger if I move to the next stage?''
My core shook for a split second. ''I never expected you to just accept it, especially with what you've become because of me.''
I shrugged, unbothered. ''Well, it's life. You're not here to harm me, it seems. Plus, I want to enjoy my new life this time around, and this power will help with that. Now answer my question.''
''Yes, they grow stronger, and you'll get more boons because I am benevolent.''
I stared at the orb with a deadpan expression, causing it to continue. ''I am not here to harm you, because I am you, prince,''
''Alright!'' I snapped. ''Stop with the me is you, and you is me stuff, it's annoying, and you seem to love saying it!''
The orb laughed at my outburst, causing me to stiffen as I asked. ''When will I wake up? I assume my body's recovering from the, what, power overload?''
''That is correct, a few more hours and you'll be awake,'' it answered.
''Okay, tell me about my new powers while we wait.''
The orb kept talking as if it had been waiting centuries for someone to actually listen. It explained the new rules of my existence in blunt, hungry terms. To grow, I had to feed, not just on anything. Mana-rich prey was best: monster cores ripped fresh from still-twitching chests, or the crystallised hearts of mages foolish enough to cross my path.
Normal hearts worked too; any beating one would do in a pinch. The mana in them trickled into my well like water through cracked stone. Monster cores and proper mana hearts? Those poured in like molten iron, flooding the well, accelerating everything. My claws would grow sharper. Regeneration faster. Hunger quieter, at least for a while.
The orb showed me what Stage 2 might look like if I kept eating: claws that could shear through plate like cloth, senses that could track a single drop of blood across miles, and strength that would let me crush stone in my fist. It promised more, things it called gifts with the same possessive pride a dragon might use for its hoard.
By the time it finished, the blood-red sky overhead had dimmed to a bruised purple. The pulsing orb had shrunk slightly, its tendrils thinner, its glow muted. It sounded almost tired. ''I gave everything I had left in Hollowend to keep you alive,'' it rasped. ''Now I rest. Don't waste it. Eat. Grow. Or we both will die.''
Then silence swallowed my innerworld. The orb sank deeper into my well, leaving only the slow churn of mana and the ever-present hunger in my gut. Darkness folded over me again, softer this time. When I woke, it was to the familiar smell of old wood and the metallic tang of my own dried blood.
My room in the hunting manor.
I lay on my back, sheets tangled around my legs, shirt gone, probably torn to rags and discarded. Every muscle ached like I'd been beaten with iron rods, a deep, bone-weary throb that radiated from my spine outward. But when I flexed my fingers, there was no sharp sting of broken bones, no wet pull of torn flesh.
The injuries from the assassins were gone. Not scarred, which was shocking. Not even pink. Just smooth skin over muscle that felt denser, heavier, like it had been made from something harder than human. I sat up slowly, feeling my bones pop thanks to lying down for an unknown amount of time.
I felt the room tilt for a heartbeat, then steadied. Moonlight spilt through the tall windows, silvering the edge of my bed, the sword rack, the half-open wardrobe where my old tunics still hung like ghosts of who I used to be. My stomach growled, not politely. A hollow, ripping hunger that clawed up my throat and made my canines ache.
It wasn't normal starvation. It was deeper, directional, like a compass needle swinging toward the nearest source of mana. I pressed a hand to my chest. Beneath the skin, I could feel it: the well, no longer empty, but churning with sluggish dark current. And at its centre, the orb slept quietly now.
But not forever. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, bare feet hitting cold stone. The ache in my body was already fading, edged out by something sharper. Hunger. And curiosity. Whatever came next, Selene waiting downstairs, Garrick's suspicious stare, the treacherous fools she'd promised to finish, I knew one thing with cold certainty.
I wasn't the same prince who'd walked into Hollowend. And I was starving.