The Beast Unleashed

Chapter-4

Malakai didn’t know how long he had been caged in the void. Time no longer flowed; there was only endless blackness.

Two things kept him company.

The first was Thomas’s face, smiling as he damned him to death. It replayed again and again, like a cruel echo that would never fade.

The second was the constant growl of Amarok, the beast in the dark.

“As a child,” the wolf’s voice thundered, “they used you, then discarded you like something broken. As a man, they spat on you, called you cursed, and drove you into the shadows, into a life of crime you never asked for. And then what?”

The beast’s red eyes burned brighter. “They hung you like a dog for a crime you didn’t commit. Tell me, are you truly going to let them write your end?”

Malakai’s heart was a storm. Anger, pain, madness, and betrayal all collided chaotically. He clutched his head. “What choice do I have? I’m dead.”

The wolf’s lips curled into something resembling a grin. “Death was merely the door. I am what waits on the other side.” Malakai’s head raised in curiosity.

“I can help you,” Amarok continued. “I can give you the power you crave. Every traitor, every foe. You will erase them from existence and carve your vengeance into the bones of this world. There will be no mercy or forgiveness.

Only blood.

They called you cursed, Malakai. Time to live up to your name.”

Amarok stepped forward, massive and primal. “Do you accept?” he growled, his breath hot and feral.

Malakai’s fists clenched. He thought of Tessa’s fragile frame. Of his promise to Talia. Of Thomas’s betrayal. His answer burned on his tongue like destiny.

“I accept.”

The void shuddered as the deal was sealed.

The black ground split with a deafening c***k, light spearing through as the floor tore apart beneath him. Malakai’s scream was swallowed as he plunged into blinding white.

The world convulsed around him like the belly of some great beast, then spat him out.

Warmth pressed on his skin. Light pierced his eyes. Malakai groaned, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the brightness.

Sunlight.

For a moment he just stared at it, at the gold spilling across his trembling fingers. When last had he seen the sun?

“Wait… sunlight… that means–”

He gasped and shot to his feet, his heart hammering. He was standing in a field of wild grass, the hill sloping down toward the familiar shape of his home.

“No… no, this… this isn’t real. Is it?” he questioned.

But there it was; Pultuvur, hazy in the distance with his crooked little house perched near the foot of the hill.

“Tessa…” The name slipped from his lips. His body moved before thought could catch up.

He half-stumbled, half-sprinted down the hill, feet sliding in the loose dirt. His lungs burned and his legs screamed, but he didn’t stop until he reached the door.

It still groaned on its rusty hinge when he shoved it open.

“I’m home,” he gasped, voice shaking with wild relief. “Tessa? Angel, it’s Daddy… I’m home.”

He rushed to the bed but it was empty. No blanket. No cup. No Tessa. Only dust.

Malaki’s knees hit the floorboards.

“No, no, no…” He crawled across the room, yanking open every cabinet, peering into every corner. “Tessa? Tessa! Come on, sweetheart, where are you?” His voice cracked like broken glass but only silence answered him.

He slumped, head hanging, as tears slid down his jaw to the dusty planks. “I failed her.”

Minutes passed before he forced himself up. Outside, the town stirred faintly in the distance. He wiped his face with a trembling sleeve, catching sight of an old brown cloak hanging by the door. He dragged it on, pulling the hood low.

If she wasn’t here… maybe someone knew where she’d gone. He stepped out, his shadow stretching long on the dirt road as he walked into Pultuvur.

The market buzzed with life as usual, allowing him to drift through like a ghost until something nailed to a post snagged his eye.

A parchment decree. He moved closer to read it and his heart stopped.

By Decree of the Town Chief

But the man staring back at him wasn’t the old chief. It was Thomas. His face, proud and regal, gazed down from the parchment.

Malakai’s lips parted. “That’s not possible.”

He darted to a nearby fruit seller. “Excuse me,” his voice frantic as he pointed to the post, “that decree… when was it posted?”

The man barely glanced up from arranging apples. “Two days ago.”

“No, I mean the year,” Malakai pressed. “What year is this?”

The man gave him a strange look. “It’s the third Year of the Crowned Sun.”

“Crowned what?” Malakai asked, trying to hide his confusion. The man groaned and stood up.

“The Year of the Crowned Sun," the man repeated impatiently. "Declared by the King after the crowned prince was murdered. That was two years ago." He then mumbled something about ‘dumb foreign merchants’ and walked off.

Malakai staggered back against the post, breath rasping. “Two years,” he muttered. “I… I've been dead for two years.” Tessa would’ve died thinking he abandoned her.

“I wasn’t there. She died… and I wasn’t there.” His jaw tightened. He ripped the decree of the post, crushing it into a wrinkled ball.

This was Thomas’s doing.

Something inside him stirred, fanning the embers of his fury.

“Yes,” the wolf whispered. “Let the hunt begin.”

Malakai waited till sunset, then made his way through the town. The old chief’s cottage was long gone. In its place stood a mansion of polished stone. Stonehall, they called it now. The house of the new Chief, Thomas.

He scaled the outer wall, slipping through blind spots where the guards’ torches didn’t reach. At the back, an iron latch barred a servant’s door. Malakai knelt before it, taking out the extra pair of tools he'd picked from his home, and went to work. The lock surrendered to him with a soft click.

Inside, he moved like a ghost, scent and intuition leading him, until he reached the upper floor. A grand door stood ahead—Thomas’s chambers.

He slid inside and began to search. Papers, ledgers and trinkets littered the desk. Malakai left everything as he found it, careful not to leave a trace.

Footsteps travelled through the corridor followed by a woman’s laughter.

Malakai darted into the closet, pulling the door shut just as Thomas entered, arm draped around a flushed woman who reeked of wine.

Thomas chuckled. “See this bed? The softest in Pultuvur, and it's all mine. Perks of being Chief.” He brushed her cheek with exaggerated charm. She giggled, leaning into him.

Malakai’s chest burned. Chief. Thomas had stolen everything from him, and now he basked in it.

As their laughter grew, Malakai pushed the door open.

The woman gasped, stumbling back into a corner. Thomas froze mid-movement. His eyes widened as though he’d seen a ghost.

“Kai? No… no, you— you’re dead,” he stammered, with a cracked voice. “They hung you—”

Malakai stepped forward, each step bringing him closer to vengeance.

Suddenly, the air shimmered.

A glowing script appeared with a code, burning into his vision:

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System Notification:

{Bloodlust: Heightened}

{Trigger: Anger}

{Activate Werewolf Beast Mode: Yes/No}

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"What… what is this?” Malakai asked

Amarok’s voice rumbled like a storm inside his skull.

“Your path to vengeance. It's simple, whatever you want, picture it. I will bring your darkest desires to life. Now choose.”

Malakai’s lips twisted into a grim smile. His eyes locked on Thomas. “Yes.”

Thomas frowned, confused. “Yes? Yes wha—”

The sound of bones snapping tore through the room. Malakai’s body convulsed. His limbs twisted, fur tearing through his skin as his jaw elongated into a muzzle of fangs. His scream morphed into a monstrous roar as Amarok surged forward.

The woman shrieked, bolting from the chamber. Thomas stumbled for the door, but Amarok pounced, slamming it shut.

Like lightning, his claws slashed. Thomas collapsed with a howl as both thighs shredded open. Blood flooded the polished floor.

“NO! Please, Kai, don’t—”

But Malakai wasn’t there anymore. Only Amarok.

The wolf’s eyes glowed crimson, drinking in Thomas’s terror. He licked his fangs slowly, savoring it. This was what betrayal tasted like.

Thomas tried to crawl, dragging himself on his hands, his stumped thighs leaving a red trail. Amarok snarled and brought his claw down, ripping through Thomas’s right hand. Bone cracked and fingers split. His scream pierced the air.

The doors burst open. Guards froze in horror at the sight of the beast.

“Kill it!” Thomas shrieked, spitting blood. “Kill this thing!”

Steel rang out as they charged but Amarok welcomed them with a roar. He moved faster than their eyes could follow, ripping through armor and splitting flesh like parchment. Their blades clattered uselessly to the ground. Blood sprayed across the walls as one by one they fell, their cries silenced in the frenzy.

Amarok turned back, chest heaving as his eyes locked on Thomas.

The wolf stalked forward, claws dripping with blood. He pressed close enough for Thomas to see his reflection in those burning red eyes.

Thomas sobbed. “Please… not like this…”

Amarok’s claws plunged deep into Thomas’s chest, cracking through ribs. Thomas’s eyes went wide, a strangled gasp escaping his lips before his body went slack.

Amarok held there for a heartbeat longer, relishing the kill. Then the fur receded. The claws shrank back into trembling hands. Malakai staggered, falling to his knees, drenched in blood. Thomas’s blood. The glowing script reappeared, before vanishing once more.

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System:

{Bloodlust: Satisfied}

{State Updated: Normal}

{Strength: +10}

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Malakai stood staring with hollow eyes, taking in the ruined room and the bodies strewn across the floor.

He stumbled to Thomas, who lay gasping, pale and bleeding out. Malakai crouched beside him, hands trembling as he gripped the traitor’s shoulder. “Why?” he demanded. “Who hired you? Why did you kill the prince? My sweet Tessa...” His voice broke on the last word.

Thomas coughed, blood staining his lips. He looked into Malakai's eyes, then rasped, “Your… daughter… she’s not dead. She’s—”

His eyes fluttered as he went still, the last of his strength gone. The word never came. Malakai’s hands closed into fists so hard the knuckles whitened. Grief and fury braided into a single, cold resolve. He shoved Thomas’s limp body away and rose.

He needed to find his daughter and take out all those who had led to his betrayal.

Amarok’s voice slid into his head once more. “It’s about time you rose from the ashes. You’re no longer man, but a weapon forged by agony. With my strength and your mind, we will hunt them down, one by one.”

Then the wolf’s tone soured. “But remember, vengeance has its price. With each life you take, a part of you dies. There will come a moment when nothing remains of Malakai but me; and then I will consume you entirely. Is that a sacrifice you're willing to accept?”

Malakai closed his eyes briefly, feeling the weight of every insult, every shove, every spit, every betrayal he'd ever endured. Determination flared in his eyes now.

“I say… kill them all.”