The bull-man surged upward, horns first. It happened too fast for anyone to react.
"Ronan!" Elion shouted.
Too late. The creature slammed into Ronan's chest, launching him backward like a crash-test dummy thrown by a speeding truck. Ronan hit the brick wall hard, cracking it behind him.
Jordan grimaced. "Oh, that's not good."
Ronan coughed, pushing himself upright with a grunt. "Damn, I'm really getting rusty."
"Can't believe I actually let that land." Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and yet, when he looked up, there wasn't panic—just irritation, like he'd spilled coffee on his shirt rather than been launched through the air by a homicidal bull-man.
"Alright," Ronan said, shaking dust from his cloak as he stood, "guess I should end this now."
He reached inside his cloak and pulled out his revolver.
Elion squinted, suddenly noticing something odd about it. Along the revolver's polished silver surface were strange symbols etched in intricate patterns—almost like runes. He'd seen something similar before, hadn't he?
Wait. The sack—Elion's eyes shot to the fallen bag. He saw the same kind of symbols sewn into its fabric, glowing faintly in the alley's dim light.
Each one looked different, like variations of an ancient alphabet he'd never learned in school.
His mind raced, pieces clicking into place.
Symbols on the gun, symbols on the sack, symbols on those rings—this wasn't random. It was magic. Or something close to it. Like actual, real-life magic.
Elion whispered, realization hitting him like a brick to the head. "Those are spells."
Jordan frowned. "Spells? Are you serious?"
Elion nodded rapidly, excitement mixing with dread. "Think about it. Those rings scattered when they left the sack—like some kind of containment spell broke. And his gun, those markings—it's gotta be magic or something!"
Jordan opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, sirens wailed in the distance, echoing down the alley.
"Cops?" Jordan asked, hope and worry mixing in his voice.
"Took them long enough," Elion muttered, though deep down, he knew it hadn't really been long at all.
Everything tonight had unfolded in just minutes—bear-man, bull-man, Ronan's showdown—yet it felt like they'd been trapped here for hours.
Ronan cocked his revolver with a deliberate click.
"Stay back," Elion warned Jordan, but the look on Jordan's face told him his friend wasn't convinced.
"We've got to help—"
"No," Ronan cut him off sharply, adjusting his stance as he faced down the snorting, furious bull-man. "You two have seen enough already. This ends now."
He lifted the revolver, symbols glinting dangerously in the shadowed alley.
And for the first time tonight, Elion saw Ronan's expression clearly—focused, calm, and deadly serious.
No more games.
Ronan pulled the trigger.
A massive white glow erupted from the end of Ronan's revolver, swallowing the alley in its brilliance. The air vibrated with an energy so dense it made Elion's skin crawl.
Jordan's eyes went wide. "Whoa, whoa—hold on!" He took a frantic step forward. "Ronan, calm down! That much force is gonna—"
Elion yanked him back with all his strength. "Don't! You'll get yourself killed!"
"But—" Jordan struggled against him, muscles tensing as if he was ready to dash forward and knock the gun away. "Look at that glow! He's gonna level the whole damn block!"
Elion gritted his teeth, tightening his grip. "You think I don't see that?! Just trust me—we can't stop him."
Meanwhile, the bull-man stood frozen, his entire body trembling. His pupils shrank to terrified pinpricks as if his instincts screamed at him to flee—but there was nowhere left to run.
"No... no..." His voice quivered, a desperate plea that barely escaped his lips. "This can't be happening. I'm a high-tier! I—"
His body twitched, his hooves scraping the pavement. Panic turned to blind, animalistic survival. With a guttural snarl, he did the only thing he could—he squeezed every last ounce of strength from his body, from the burning Sagittarius symbol carved into his chest, from whatever force had granted him power.
If he was going to die, he'd do it fighting.
Elion's heart pounded in his chest. The sirens were closer now—definitely at Xylo Club. In minutes, maybe even seconds, they'd be swarming the area.
And if they got here before this fight was over?
Two normal guys standing next to a dead bear-man and a soon-to-be-dead bull-man?
Yeah. They'd be the prime suspects in a massacre.
"Elion," Jordan hissed. "If we stay here, we're screwed."
"I know," Elion whispered, eyes darting between Ronan, the bull-man, and the incoming police.
But right now? There was nowhere to run.
And whatever happened next… It would decide everything.
Ronan pulled the trigger.
The alley ignited with pure white energy, the air warping around the force of the shot. The glow was blinding—so much so that Elion and Jordan instinctively shielded their eyes.
The bull-man roared, but it wasn't fear anymore. It was pure, animalistic defiance. He dug his hooves into the pavement and charged forward, straight into the blast.
That thing—the same beast that had played dead a moment ago—wasn't running away. He was meeting his death head-on.
The energy consumed him.
For a split second, it was like everything slowed down. The bull-man's massive form was swallowed by the light; his muscles tensed like he could fight back against the inevitable.
Then—nothing.
No crash. No scream. No explosion.
Just silence.
Elion's ears rang from the sheer force of the blast, but other than that, there was nothing. No shockwave tearing through the alley, no buildings caving in, no debris flying everywhere.
Just… emptiness.
Elion cracked one eye open, then the other. The light had faded. The bull-man was on the ground.
Not burned. Not obliterated. Just… there.
His body was shrinking, muscles deflating, limbs twisting back into something human. The thick, matted fur that had covered him moments ago receded into bare skin, leaving only a massive, bald man lying unconscious in the dirt.
His breath was gone. His body was still.
And yeah—totally naked.
Jordan coughed as he pointed at the naked body. "Well, that's… awkward."
Elion swallowed, his mind trying to make sense of what just happened. "What the hell kind of shot was that?"
They expected destruction. Instead, they got… precision.
Ronan holstered his revolver with a quiet click, completely unfazed. "Clean kill."
Elion stared at the unmoving body, his mind refusing to accept how… clean the kill had been.
No carnage, no collateral damage—just a man who had been a monster a few minutes ago, now nothing but lifeless flesh on the pavement.
He swallowed. "Is he really dead?" His voice came out quieter than he expected.
Jordan, however, had different priorities. He whirled on Ronan, fists clenched, eyes burning. "What did you do?"
Ronan, as usual, looked like this was just another Tuesday. He spun his revolver once before holstering it with a practiced ease. "I shot him."
Jordan's nostrils flared. "Yeah, no shit, cowboy. But what was that?"
He gestured wildly at the alley. "That blast—it should've torn through the whole block! But instead…" His voice trailed off, his fingers curling as if he could physically grasp the answer. "Nothing happened except him dropping dead."
Ronan tilted his head. "Would you have preferred destruction?"
Jordan blinked, thrown by the question.
Elion wasn't sure what unsettled him more—Ronan's indifference or the fact that, now that he thought about it, Jordan had expected something more… dramatic. As if Ronan's shot should've left a smoldering crater instead of a quiet, undisturbed corpse.
Jordan hesitated, then scowled, crossing his arms. "No. I mean… I don't know. It just doesn't make sense."
"Doesn't have to." Ronan rolled his shoulders, already looking past them as if the night's mess was only half-done.
He let out a sharp breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look. You two should really get out of here. More of them are showing up."
Elion stiffened. "More of them?"
Jordan paled. "You mean more beast-men?" The thought of another fight, more monsters lurking just out of sight, sent a shiver through him.
Ronan didn't answer right away, which somehow made it worse.
Elion exhaled, trying to keep his brain from spiraling when something caught his eye. A small, dark object lying near the corpse.
The ring.
It was still there, untouched, glowing faintly with an eerie, pulsing energy. Wisps of black smoke curled from its surface, twisting like something alive, something unwilling to fade.
Elion's stomach clenched. Everything else on the bull-man had reverted. His body was human again, stripped of every trace of what he had been.
Except for the ring.
Elion licked his lips. "So… it was the ring," he murmured.
Jordan shot him a confused look. "What?"
Elion pointed. "The bear-man. The bull-man. They both had rings. And when they died, the rings… reacted." His gaze lifted, locking onto Ronan. "That's the real problem, isn't it?"
Ronan's smirk faded just a bit. "Took you long enough." The way he said it—flat, tired—sent a chill through Elion's spine.
Jordan frowned. "Wait, wait. You're telling me those rings did this? Not some weird werewolf-virus thing?"
Ronan let out a slow, heavy sigh. "The rings are the source of all the trouble I'm dealing with right now."
Elion's mind raced. That meant these people—whoever they had been before—were not monsters. They were wearing something that made them monsters.
He swallowed. "Then, if they're so dangerous, why not destroy them?"
Ronan chuckled, but it was dry, humorless. "Oh, you think I haven't tried?"
He crouched, plucking the bull-man's ring between two fingers. Up close, the smoke leaking from it looked wrong. Like it wasn't just mist—but something escaping.
"These things don't break," Ronan continued, twisting the ring between his fingers. "Believe me, I've tried. Burning, crushing, even shooting them. Doesn't do a damn thing."
Elion felt his chest tighten. "So what do you do with them?"
Ronan didn't answer immediately. He simply turned the ring over in his fingers—and then, to Elion's shock, something changed.
The black smoke stopped leaking—and instead started pulling inward. The tendrils of darkness curled, twisting toward Ronan's own ring like ink being absorbed into a sponge.
Jordan took a wary step back. "Okay. That's freaky."
Then, just as smoothly, Ronan flicked his wrist—and tossed the ring toward his sack.
The second it left his fingers, something inside the sack snapped to life. The symbols along its fabric glowed brighter, and before the ring even landed, the sack sucked it in.
The metallic clink of it vanishing among the others sent a full-body shudder through Elion.
Ronan dusted off his hands like he'd just finished taking out the trash. "I store them," he said simply. "Contain them. Restrain them. Tame them."
He nudged the sack with his boot. "It's not as simple as it looks if you want me to tell you the truth."
Elion exhaled, his brain still processing, reeling. His eyes flicked back to the glowing symbols—on the sack, on the gun, on Ronan's ring.
Magic.
He believed that this was all magic, and only one person could confirm this.
Elion glanced back at Ronan, his throat dry. "Magic, right?"
Ronan raised an eyebrow.
Elion gestured weakly to the sack. "Those symbols—on your gun, on your stuff. The rings scattered when they left that sack, like something holding them back just broke."
Elion paused before adding a few more questions. "And now you're… sucking the energy out of them? That's some kind of spell, isn't it?"
For the first time, Ronan looked genuinely impressed.
"Not bad, kid." He smirked, adjusting his hat. "Most people just scream and run."
Jordan was still staring at the bull-man's corpse. "So… he's not coming back? No more smoke, no weird magic resurrection?"
Ronan shook his head. "Nope. This one's done."
Elion exhaled slowly. He wasn't sure if that was better or worse.
Jordan, however, wasn't satisfied. His expression was still tight, eyes burning with something Elion couldn't quite place.
Anger. Frustration. Maybe even disappointment.
"You could've done that from the start," Jordan muttered.
Ronan raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"You could've killed him right away like you did with the bear-man," Jordan continued. "But you didn't. You fought him. You let it drag out. Why?"
"And... For the bear-man... You could use the same attack and did not need to shoot twice. Why?" Jordan asked.
Ronan studied him for a moment. Then he sighed, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. "You wouldn't understand."
Jordan took a step forward, fists tightening. "Try me."
Elion tensed. "Jordan—"
But Jordan wasn't backing down. His body was still tense from his earlier injuries, but his frustration was clear. He wasn't just asking a question—he was challenging Ronan.
Ronan tilted his head slightly, thinking of Jordan as if one might regard a particularly annoying fly. Then, with a lazy smirk, he said, "You boys should be careful."
Jordan blinked. "What?"
Ronan gestured lazily toward the dead bull-man. "Guys like him don't just show up for no reason. Someone sent him. And before I put him down, I was hoping he'd spill something useful."
Jordan's jaw tightened. "And did he?"
Ronan rolled his shoulders. "Not really. You heard him, too. But hey, at least now I know they're getting bolder."
Elion's stomach twisted. "You mean there are more?"
Ronan gave him a flat look. "Oh, kid. I've been telling you a few times." He then walked slowly toward his sack before picking it up.
Elion's skin crawled. He looked back at the bull-man's corpse, at the eerie stillness in the alley. The night felt… wrong. Like something was still watching.
Jordan exhaled sharply, forcing himself to focus. "Fine. Later. Right now, what's next?"
Ronan clicked his tongue, adjusting his hat. "Now? We move on."
Jordan scoffed. "That's it? That's your grand plan? Just keep shoving rings into a bag like you're collecting rare artifacts?"
Ronan shrugged. "Hey, if you've got a better idea, I'm all ears."
Jordan clenched his jaw. He was still clearly unsettled—pissed, even—but there wasn't much he could say to argue.
Elion, however, was still stuck on something. He looked between Ronan and the sack full of rings.
Something about all this didn't add up.
"Ronan, somehow I agree with Jordan," Elion asked slowly, "If you can kill them so easily, why don't you do it right away? Why fight them at all?"
Ronan's smirk faded just slightly. For the first time, his usual cocky expression shifted into something more… tired.
"Because they don't always go down easy," he muttered. "And because… sometimes, they're not supposed to."
That last part sent a different kind of chill down Elion's spine. Before he could press further, Ronan suddenly tensed. His hand shot up, pressing his fingers to his temple as if he had just heard something only he could hear.
Jordan caught the movement. "What? What is it?"
Elion asked, "Is it the police?"
Ronan clicked his tongue. "Nope. More bad than the police."
Jordan frowned. "How bad?"
Ronan exhaled sharply, adjusting his hat. "Bad enough that you two should start running."