Chapter 297: Go ahead!

The more Zyren spoke, the more incensed King Jared became.It was written plainly across his face—the tightening of his jaw, the twitch of his lips, the way his golden eyes sharpened into something feral. He glared openly at King Zyren, his stare heavy with barely restrained fury. Zyren, however, did not look bothered in the slightest. If anything, he appeared almost bored.

"What the hell are you sprouting?" King Jared snapped.

His voice cut sharply through the gathering, loud enough to draw attention from every vampire and werewolf present. As he spoke, Zyren took a deliberate step forward, moving until he stood directly in front of Aira. The action was subtle but unmistakably protective. Zyren went so far as to nearly roll his eyes, as though Jared’s outrage was tiresome rather than threatening.

Behind Zyren, Aira stood frozen, her eyes wide, her breath caught somewhere in her chest. She had not expected things to escalate so quickly—certainly not like this.

The other vampires shared her stunned expression. Several exchanged uneasy glances, their pale faces tense as they tried to process what was happening. Meanwhile, the werewolves shifted as one, instinctively moving to stand behind their king. Low growls rippled through their ranks, their eyes locked onto Zyren with visible hatred as he spoke again.

"You reek of something awful," King Zyren said coolly.

The words hung heavy in the air.

King Jared visibly bristled. His shoulders squared, muscles coiling beneath his skin. His furry ears flattened briefly before flicking back up, flapping in visible irritation as Zyren continued, completely unfazed by the reaction he was provoking.

"Clearly, you are a Zygon."

A murmur spread through the crowd, sharp breaths and quiet scoffs following the accusation. None of the werewolves looked as though they believed him—not even for a second. To them, Zyren was simply searching for an excuse to provoke a fight, and they had every intention of giving him one if that was what he wanted.

They assembled more tightly behind King Jared, claws flexing, teeth bared, bodies tense and ready to strike.

Behind Zyren, Aira stood her ground.

She did not believe him—not fully. The accusation felt too sudden, too extreme. And yet, doubt alone was not enough to stop her from acting. Instinct took over. She stepped closer, her presence steady, and unleashed the full extent of her power.

The air changed instantly.

Invisible pressure flooded the space around them, thick and overwhelming, spreading outward in waves. It pressed down on every living being present, filling the clearing until there was nowhere untouched by it. Aira’s power was vast, ancient, and unmistakable.

For a brief moment, everyone held their breath.

Then, almost as one, the werewolves on Jared’s side released a collective sigh of relief.

Nothing happened.

King Jared remained standing, unmoved, unchanged. He showed no strange symptoms, no reaction to the energy washing over him. No weakness. No distortion. He looked exactly as he always had.

Council members Brilla, Falson, and Kannedy exchanged sharp looks. Clearly emboldened, they opened their mouths at once, ready to berate Zyren and demand answers. Why would he follow them back here if all he wanted was a fight? Why provoke them with baseless accusations?

Kannedy was the first to speak.

Or rather—he tried to.

His mouth dropped open, wider and wider, and then froze. The words never came. His eyes widened in horror as his entire body went rigid, as though he had suddenly forgotten how to move.

Right in front of all of them, King Jared’s body began to change.

At first, it was subtle—too subtle to immediately comprehend. His posture shifted unnaturally, bones cracking beneath his skin. His muscles bulged and twisted, swelling grotesquely as his form stretched beyond what it should have been capable of.

Then came the sound.

A deep, wet tearing noise echoed through the clearing as flesh split and reformed. For a split second, it felt as though the entire crowd had been submerged underwater. Sound vanished. Shouts died in throats. Even breathing seemed distant.

Everything went silent.

Everything except the growling.

Low, guttural sounds rumbled from King Jared’s throat—no, not King Jared. The Zygon monster that had been pretending to be him. The growls grew louder, vibrating through the ground beneath their feet as its transformation accelerated.

Its body became more grotesque with every passing second. Bigger. Blacker. More monstrous than anything most of them had ever seen. Its skin darkened to an unnatural pitch, absorbing the light around it. Jagged teeth tore free from its gums, growing longer, sharper, mismatched. A long, black tongue slipped between them, writhing obscenely as it tasted the air.

But worse than the creature’s appearance was the realization that struck the werewolves like a blade through the heart.

Their king was gone.

If King Jared were alive, a Zygon would not be wearing his skin.

Fear settled heavily over them, paralyzing many where they stood. Everything was happening far too fast. The vampires scrambled backward in alarm, instinctively retreating toward Zyren, clustering behind their king as though he were a shield.

The werewolves, however, remained rooted in place.

Most of them were lost in shock, minds struggling to catch up with the horror unfolding before them. Some were completely unaware of what was happening—until the Zygon attacked.

It moved with terrifying speed.

Long claws lashed out, tearing through bodies, stone, and earth alike. The attack was brutal to witness, but even worse to be close to. The Zygon wasted no time. Its disguise exposed, the game was over. It attacked with savage intent, ripping through anything in reach.

Those who had been dazed were the first to fall.

The vampires stayed back, tightly grouped behind Zyren, their faith in him unshaken. They were convinced—absolutely—that their king would protect them.

Aira was no different.

She stood close to Zyren, closer than she ever had before, her heart pounding violently in her chest. Terror gripped her, the kind that stole breath and made limbs feel heavy. This was the biggest Zygon she had ever seen.

The werewolves charged, attacking in waves, only to be thrown aside one after another. A single glance was enough to tell her the truth—no matter how ugly the other monsters had been, this one was different.

This one was superior.

Its eyes were pitch black, void-like, reflecting nothing. Its chest glowed faintly red, pulsing beneath its dark skin like a living ember. And worse than all of that—it controlled fire.

Flames erupted from its claws and mouth, scorching the ground wherever it struck. Fire—an enemy vampires feared almost as much as the sun. Werewolves could heal from such wounds. Vampires could not.

And still, Zyren gave no order to attack.

The vampires hesitated, already reluctant, their fear growing as they watched the werewolves fight and die while mourning their fallen king. This only fueled the werewolves’ rage further.

"All of you will die!" the Zygon roared.

Its voice boomed across the battlefield as it continued its rampage, focusing most of its fury on the werewolves. It killed many of them—too many—yet it never ventured too close to where Zyren stood.

Almost as if it feared him.

The slaughter continued for several agonizing moments. Zyren remained motionless, watching, silent. No one behind him dared move or speak.

Finally, Aira broke.

It was clear now—this Zygon was not one they could kill. No matter what injury it sustained, it healed instantly. Even when an arm was severed, it grew back within seconds, flesh knitting itself together unnaturally.

"Are you going to help?" Aira whispered.

She leaned closer to Zyren, her voice trembling despite her effort to stay calm. "This monster is clearly not like the rest," she said, pointing out what everyone else was thinking.

"If it killed Jared, the werewolf king, then it’s far more powerful than it looks," she added, concern sharp in her voice.

Zyren did not respond.

He simply stood there, watching.

When he finally spoke, it was not to act himself.

Instead, he gestured to the men beside him—the four lords and nobles standing stiffly at his side.

"Go ahead," he ordered coldly. "Help them."

His gaze swept over them, sharp and unforgiving.

"If you can’t defeat the monster together with them," Zyren continued, his voice like steel, "then all of you are simply useless."

Fear surged through the lords’ hearts.

They knew better than to let it show.