Chapter 524: Without Hurting You
Arkai’s massive black wolf form tore through the capital estate. He crashed through the grand foyer, his claws gouging deep furrows into the marble floors that had been polished to a mirror shine only hours before.
The towering double doors at the main entrance splintered beneath his weight as he shouldered through them, shards of reinforced wood scattering across the manicured gardens beyond.
He didn’t slow or look back. The guards stationed at the perimeter shouted in alarm, but he was already past them, a blur of shadow, his howl splitting the quiet night.
Cecilia launched herself from the ruined doorway, her telekinesis surging beneath her like a second pulse. The mana she drew from the bonds she shared with her three husbands surged, lifted her into the air, propelling her forward.
"Arkai!" she screamed, but he didn’t turn. He just kept running, almost across the courtyard, and she kept chasing, the gap between them never quite closing.
Then the summoning circle flared to life in front of her, a blaze of golden-silver light that ripped through the fabric of space and deposited two figures directly in her path.
Oathran materialized first, his wings already half-unfurled, his mist grey eyes blazing. Eastiel followed a heartbeat later, his lion ears swiveling, his golden eyes already tracking the black wolf’s trajectory.
The mana cost hit Cecilia immediately. Even though it wasn’t her own mana, she was still the host of the System. Her vision swam and her telekinesis faltered, and she dropped several feet before Oathran caught her, his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her against his chest.
Her bond reserves, already drained from the chase, screamed in protest. She had paid the price without hesitation, summoning two husbands at once, one of them a dragon whose mere presence demanded an ocean of mana to bridge the distance between them.
Her vision swam, dark spots blooming at the edges, and she sagged against Oathran’s chest, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. But her eyes stayed open. She wouldn’t close them, not until Arkai was safe.
Meanwhile, Eastiel caught up to him before he could clear the estate’s outer courtyard. The golden lion crossed the distance in three powerful bounds, his claws scraping against the cobblestones.
He didn’t call Arkai’s name or try to reason with him. He simply threw himself into the black wolf’s path.
ROAAR!!!
BLAM!
Eastiel met him head-on. The impact of two full-grown beastmen colliding at full speed sent a shockwave rippling across the courtyard.
Eastiel held firm. His claws dug into the earth, his muscles straining, his golden eyes locked on his brother’s wild, unseeing gaze.
CRASH—
Arkai twisted and thrashed, his massive body slamming into a marble fountain that had stood in the courtyard for three human generations.
The stone cracked, water erupted in a crystalline spray, drenching them both. But Eastiel didn’t let go. He wrapped his arms around the black wolf’s neck and held on.
Arkai was about to rampage again when more Dawnoro werewolves surged into the courtyard, their black fur bristling in the moonlight.
They had been roused from their posts by the chaos and they transformed mid-stride, dropping to all fours as their bodies rippled and reshaped into the great wolves of their bloodline.
They threw themselves into the struggle, even with fear and hesitation in their eyes, adding their weight and strength to Eastiel’s, forming a living net of fur and muscle around their rampaging alpha.
"What happened, really?" Oathran asked. He floated closer with Cecilia still cradled against his chest, then gently set her down on the cobblestones.
His wings folded briefly before he began to shift, not into the massive full form, but a smaller version as he moved to help Eastiel adjust their positions.
Together, the dragon and the lion and the wolves shifted their grips, finding better angles, better leverage, a restraint that would hold without hurting.
Cecilia pulled the Berserker’s Muzzle from her inventory. The dark leather and silver buckles gleamed in the fractured moonlight, the same artifact that had calmed Eastiel after he had torn Arzhen apart.
But her hands hesitated. The muzzle hovered in the air as she looked at Arkai’s face.
"He found the documents Arzhen gave me after the court..." she said.
Eastiel and Oathran looked at each other.
"What documents?" Eastiel asked, his voice strained from the effort of holding his brother down.
"It’s about my mother," Cecilia answered. Her eyes were misty again, the tears she thought she had exhausted returning.
About her mother? Eastiel’s lion ears swiveled forward. Oathran’s grey eyes sharpened.
"Which... mother, Saintess?" Oathran asked carefully, though Cecilia’s face told him she didn’t want to answer.
Finally, the commotion had drawn the people she most wanted to keep away from this. Footsteps echoed across the shattered courtyard.
Anton Vasiliev, the Tiger King, emerged from the residence’s main entrance, his dark eyes wide as he took in the scene, the black wolf pinned beneath a lion and a dragon and half a dozen Dawnoro warriors.
And beside him, wide-eyed, was Rinne.
Their son.
"Let’s talk about this later. Now..." Cecilia turned back to Arkai, her hands tightening on the muzzle. She stepped forward, ready to press it over his snarling face to calm the rampage the way she had calmed Eastiel’s, but then she looked at his eyes.
The wolf was crying.
Great, silent tears streamed from the corners of those pitch-black eyes, matting the dark fur of his cheeks.
ROAAAAAAR!!
Before he suddenly roared in anger.
Cecilia stopped hesitating. She surged forward and pressed the muzzle over his snarling face, her fingers working quickly to lock the fastener behind his ears. The dark leather molded itself to his jaw, the silver buckles clicking into place.
GRRRRRRRRR—RAH! GRRAHH!
His roar was muffled now, but no less terrible. His massive body bucked against the weight of his brothers and kin, his claws raking deep grooves into the cobblestones.
Cecilia stepped back, her breath coming fast, waiting for the calm to settle over him the way it had settled over Eastiel.
But it didn’t come.
His black eyes, still streaming tears, still burning with that horrible, incoherent anguish, did not clear. The madness in them did not recede.
"He’s resisting it..." Eastiel whispered. "This is bad. His power’s not decreasing at all."
That was one of the perks of the muzzle, and now it was a curse. The artifact dampened insanity without suppressing strength, a design meant to preserve a warrior’s effectiveness while restoring their reason.
But Arkai’s rampage was not like Eastiel’s.
"You already killed that Vasiliev kid when we put this on you," Oathran muttered, his grey eyes fixed on their struggling brother. "Most of the reason for your rampage had been fulfilled then, so it was easier for this artifact to take effect and return your sanity. But this... it seems Arkai’s rampage is still too fresh to be suppressed."
Eastiel’s fury had been given an outlet. He had killed the man he hated, torn him apart with his own claws, and the muzzle had only needed to quiet what remained.
Arkai had no outlet. His rage had no target. It was just pain, all-consuming pain, and the muzzle couldn’t touch it.
"That’s what I suspect too," Eastiel said grimly.
"Father!"
Rinne ran toward them, his face pale with fear. But he flinched to a stop when Cecilia held out her hand.
"Stay away, Rinne!" She wiped her tears with her free hand, forcing her voice into something steady. "Go back inside, alright?"
"But—"
"Let’s go, boy." Anton grasped Rinne’s pre-teen body with gentle but firm hands and lifted him over his shoulder in one smooth motion. The tiger’s face was grave, his eyes meeting Cecilia’s for just a moment.
He understood.
"No! Uncle—I need to—"
"Let your parents take care of themselves. It’s okay," Anton said, his deep voice rumbling with a reassurance he didn’t quite feel.
He turned and carried the struggling boy back toward the residence.
Cecilia looked away from her son. She couldn’t hold his eyes as he left, because all the boy would see was guilt.
Again, this was her mistake. Another secret kept too long.
But she had no choice.
She had wanted to tell Arkai after they gave birth, to lay out her suspicions about Sienna’s connection to the heat suppressant that the other world’s Summer Silver had created.
The document didn’t definitively prove that Sienna had killed Summer. It was only a customer list. Only a name. Only a thread of connection that might unravel into nothing if pulled.
But it matched too well.
The timeline, the circumstances.
Sienna was that kind of person, someone who could kill anyone standing in her way.
What complicated everything was Sol.
Cecilia had suddenly decided to carry the pregnancy to term, to give birth and hold her child in her arms even knowing the scenario would end.
She couldn’t risk Arkai remembering the real world before she safely delivered and figured out how to bring Sol back with them.
The timing had been impossibly delicate, and she had chosen the baby.
She knew they could return to that world. One of the rewards from the Scenario Ranks from the gacha banner promised access to that alternate universe.
But what if it was timed? What if there were restrictions? What if she opened the door too late?
She didn’t know. And that uncertainty had paralyzed her.
She should have hidden the documents better. Perhaps it would have been better to burn them entirely.
But she had wanted to show Arkai proof when the time came. To be transparent, to lay everything before him without secrets or shadows. She had wanted to do it right. And now it had all gone wrong.
But again, some time had passed since the day she had received that folder from Arzhen.
Why now? Why had Arkai suddenly looked through it? Was he worried about something? Had he been curious for a while and only just found the opportunity?
"Why... why didn’t you let me explain first?!" Cecilia yelled in anger. The tears came again, streaming down her face as she stared at the black wolf still straining against his restraints. "Why did you hurt yourself like this...?"
She sobbed, her shoulders shaking, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "Did you know how hard I tried to figure out how to tell you... without hurting you...?"