It was afternoon when Elion, Jordan, and Ronan emerged from the teleportation portal—materializing in a narrow, grimy alleyway cloaked in shadow. The stench of damp concrete, overflowing dumpsters, and the lingering heat of the city hit them all at once.
This time, Elion and Jordan landed on their feet. No stumbles. No disorientation. They had learned from the chaos of the night before.
Jordan rolled his shoulders and let out a breath. "Man, that still feels like being turned inside out."
Ronan smirked as he adjusted his cloak. "Give it a week."
But Elion wasn't listening. Not really. He was already tuned into the city beyond the alley—where the tension was palpable. Muffled voices overlapped with sharp sirens and the droning buzz of news reports echoing from car radios and phone speakers.
Footsteps rushed past the alley entrance. People were moving faster than usual. More urgent.
The city felt... wrong.
"Why does it sound like the whole place is losing its mind?" Elion murmured.
He took a step toward the exit of the alley—but before he could move farther, a hand clamped down on his shoulder to stop him completely.
Ronan.
Fast. Unshakable.
"I don't think that's a good idea," Ronan said with a calm tone, but there was an underlying weight to it. "Something's off."
Elion froze. Jordan, now serious, narrowed his eyes at the alley's edge.
"This have anything to do with last night?" Jordan asked. "The beast-men?"
Elion didn't answer. Not right away.
Instead, he pulled out his phone—expecting the usual stream of missed calls and half-read messages from his mom.
What he saw made his stomach drop.
17 missed calls. 32 unread messages.
All from her.
His fingers trembled as he glanced at Ronan. "I need to call my Mom first."
Ronan gave a tight nod. "Do it."
Elion didn't waste a second. He tapped the screen. The phone rang once. Twice—
Then she picked up.
"Elion."
Her voice was low. Tight. Like she was holding her breath.
"Mom?" Elion's pulse kicked up. "Is everything alright?"
She took a quick breath, and when she spoke again, it was more like a hush.
"Do not come home. Not now."
The words slammed into him.
"What? Why—?"
Her voice cut in again, trembling now. "Just... check the news."
Click.
The line went dead.
Elion lowered the phone slowly, staring at it like it had betrayed him.
Jordan stepped closer, concern etched across his face. "What is it?"
Ronan didn't speak, but his eyes stayed locked on Elion—watching every shift in his expression.
Elion swallowed hard. "She told me not to come home." He clenched the phone in his fist. "She sounded scared."
Jordan's expression darkened like storm clouds rolling in. "Check the news," he said, voice firm. "Now."
***
In her tiny apartment, Shasha Hayes sat tensely on the couch, gripping her phone like it was the only thing holding her together. She knew she had to stay strong—for her kids. Especially now. Especially for Elion.
Her eyes were locked on the television, though they barely registered what she was seeing. The news broadcast played the same grainy footage on a loop: a monstrous bear-like figure tearing through the Xylo Club, frozen mid-roar, its body twisted with unnatural strength.
Sensational headlines flashed across the screen.
Her grip on the phone tightened.
She had seen this before. Not on a screen. Not in a nightmare. But in real life. A night etched into her memory like a scar she never asked for. Years ago—too many now, yet still vivid in the back of her mind. A monster with eyes like frozen fire and a presence so heavy it had stolen the air from her lungs.
Back then, she couldn't move. Couldn't scream. Could barely breathe.
She'd been helpless. Until someone saved her.
A man.
And before he vanished—before he disappeared like smoke in the wind—he warned her.
"One day, this won't be a one-time attack. The beasts will return. And when they do, it won't be quiet."
She had tried to forget. Tried to believe he was wrong. That maybe whatever power he spoke of had sealed the gates for good. That maybe Elion would never need to know.
But now, watching the footage loop on the screen, her blood ran cold.
'Is this it?' she thought. 'Is this the moment he meant? Has it already begun?'
"Mom?" A voice cut her thought.
Shasha turned as Liam, her youngest son, peeked under the front door. His sharp brown eyes scanned the hallway with practiced caution. He saw them.
Shadows.
Tall. Still. Waiting.
"They're still out there," Liam whispered as he turned back to his mother and little sister.
Shasha inhaled slowly through her nose, trying to steady herself.
Ten-year-old Alia sat beside her, nervously picking at the hem of her sleeve. "Was that Elion?" she asked softly.
"Shh!" Liam snapped, his voice low and urgent. He raised a finger to his lips. "Don't say his name here."
Alia shrunk back, confused. "But why? He's our brother."
Liam's jaw tightened. "If the cops hear us talking about him, they'll push even harder. They're waiting. Watching. Hoping he shows up."
Alia bit her lip. "But… did he really do it? Like they said?"
The silence that followed was sharp.
Then Shasha's voice cut through it—steady, unwavering. "Of course not."
Liam nodded firmly. "He saved people. He fought that monster. And now they're trying to paint him like the villain."
Alia looked down. "But the news keeps—"
"The news says a lot of things," Shasha interrupted, her voice edged with steel. "That doesn't make them true."
Alia went quiet, unsure.
Shasha pulled both of her children closer, wrapping an arm around each of them. "Listen to me," she whispered. "We believe in Elion. No matter what the world says."
Liam's eyes drifted back to the door. His fists clenched at his sides.
"Yeah," he said. "But trusting him won't make the cops leave."
And in that moment, his young mind began to turn—calculating. Planning.
Because if no one else was going to help his brother... then maybe he had to.
***
Elion's hands were clammy as he scrolled through his phone, each swipe making his stomach twist tighter.
The headlines were everywhere.
"BREAKING: Two Individuals Linked to Xylo Club Incident Under Investigation."
"Elion Hayes and Jordan Walker: Vigilantes or Violent Instigators?"
"Police Seeking Information on Two Unidentified Men Seen Chasing Creature After Club Attack."
Elion's breath hitched. "I can't believe this."
Jordan leaned in behind him, scanning the screen—then nearly choked on air. "Are you serious?!"
Ronan, unsurprised, just let out a low chuckle like he'd seen this kind of mess a hundred times before.
Elion kept scrolling, his grip on the phone tightening with every sentence.
The police weren't calling them criminals—not officially. The reports all said the same thing: "Wanted for questioning." But that didn't matter.
That label was all it took.
The real problem wasn't the police.
It was the media.
After the authorities reviewed the club's CCTV footage, it leaked online—grainy, shaky video showing Elion and Jordan chasing the beast-man through the back alley. And social media? It exploded.
Some people called them brave.
Others called them reckless.
But the loudest voices?
The skeptics.
Clips circulated on every platform, each one slower and more distorted than the last. The commentary came fast and furious—reaction videos, armchair analysts, TikTok explainers with dramatic music and red circles drawn around their faces.
"Two random guys took on a monster and survived? Yeah, I'm not buying it."
"They chased after it. That's not what victims do."
"They disappeared after the attack. If they're innocent, why vanish?"
Jordan dragged both hands down his face. "This is insane. How is their brain functioning?"
Elion didn't even respond. He was too busy watching the mess unfold in real-time. And then… it got worse as he read the comment section.
Because, of course, Marcus, Malik, and the white team had to join the party. The same guys who got humiliated by the Red Team earlier that night? Yeah—they were out for blood. And with bruised egos and big mouths, they wasted no time painting Elion and Jordan as the ones who started the whole thing.
Rumors spread like wildfire.
"They knew the guy. They brought him."
"They were acting weird even before the fight."
"I saw them talking to someone shady before it all went down."
Jordan stared at the screen in disbelief. "Oh, come on! I should've broken their legs when I had the chance."
He was half-joking. Probably.
Ronan finally stepped in, his voice calm but edged with dry amusement. "Looks like your world's not so different from mine after all."
Elion glanced over, frustrated. "How's that?"
"Media manipulation," Ronan said, flashing a wry grin. "Never fails to do more damage than the enemy."
Jordan scowled. "Yeah, well, I'm not laughing. How do we fix this?"
Elion rubbed his temples. "First, we need to figure out exactly what the police know—and what they don't."
Jordan nodded. "Right. Because if we walk into a police station saying, 'Hey, we have no idea who the bear-man was,' I'm sure they'll believe us."
Ronan leaned against the alley wall, arms folded. "If they're only asking questions, it means they've got nothing solid. No evidence. Just suspicion. That's good."
Elion's eyes narrowed. "That's… good?"
"Yeah," Ronan said. "They're grasping at straws. But if you get caught before we're ready? They'll spin the rest themselves."
Jordan groaned. "Yeah. And those straws? They're all pointing at us."
Elion blinked mid-scroll, about to say something—then froze. His chest tightened. Not from the headlines. From something else. A shift in the air. A pressure, faint but undeniable—like the atmosphere thickened for just a moment.
Someone was approaching.
He'd been running Pulse subconsciously ever since Ronan taught it that morning. That's how he felt it before it even happened. His eyes narrowed toward the alley's edge.
"Who's there?" he muttered.
"What?" Jordan was confused, but he turned around.
That was when he saw a shadow looming at the alley's exit. To be more precise, a man stood there, a few meters in front of them, clad in a dark rider jacket, hands casually stuffed into his pockets. His posture was relaxed, but his smile—that was what set off every alarm in Elion's head.
It wasn't a normal smile.
It was the kind that said, 'Your time is over.'
Jordan, ever the king of comedic timing, let out a low whistle. "Oh wow. Never thought we'd be VVIP status. Feels nice to have someone waiting for us already."
Elion didn't take his eyes off the man. "I believe that's not someone," he muttered. His fingers twitched toward his beast ring. "Pretty sure this leans more toward something."
Ronan chuckled, completely unfazed. "Maybe this is the best time for you two to put everything you've learned into practice."
Elion turned to him slowly. "Are you sure we can take him on?"
Ronan grinned. "Yeah. Your one-day Slayer training course. Let's see if it actually paid off."
Elion chuckled. "That's not even a montage length, and we're already taking the big exam."
Jordan laughed out loud. He had been waiting for this moment. He wanted to test how exactly he fared after all the training.
"Sounds good. This is the kind of exam that I believe I can score a full mark."
Ronan smirked. "Let's see how well your score is."
Elion exhaled sharply. "You're actually enjoying this, aren't you?"
Ronan just smiled, unbothered.
The man in the jacket finally moved, taking a single step forward. The air around him shifted, thickening in a way that made Elion's skin crawl.
"Enough talking. Lady Leo had tasked us to kill you at sight, Ronan," the man said.
Jordan foolishly raised his hand up and said, "Sorry, dude. But you need to tell this Lady Leo that all beast-men need to pass Jordan first."
Elion was dumbfounded by how confident Jordan was. He even told the enemy his name like it was nothing. "You're unbelievable."
"Alright," Ronan said, cracking his knuckles. "Lesson time's over."
He tilted his head, watching the man closely. "Welcome to the real test, kids."
"Thanks, but don't forget that we are of the same age," Elion reminded.
Then, both he and Jordan stepped in front of Ronan, facing the man confidently. There was a reason Elion and Jordan weren't afraid. Not even a little.
The man standing before them radiated threat, sure. His aura felt heavy, wild, like something barely restrained. But compared to Ronan?
Yeah, not even close.
They had already faced Ronan's aura—an ocean compared to this guy's puddle. The sheer weight of Ronan's presence, the suffocating pressure he could release when he actually tried? That was a monster.
This guy?
Like Ronan said, he was just another test. But this could not be considered a real test.
The man exhaled sharply, his breath coming out in a deep snort. Black smoke released from his black ring. His body twisted and expanded, skin shifting into thick, coarse fur. Bones cracked, muscles stretched, and in an instant, the alley shook as a towering bull-man landed heavily on the pavement.
Jordan, who had not forgotten about a certain bull from last night, grinned. "Oh, another bull-man?"
He rolled his shoulders. "Good. I didn't get the chance to go against one last night."
Without hesitation, he activated his Rhino Ring. "It's morphin time!"
"Dude, be serious," Elion said, but somehow, he wanted to shout that phrase from Power Rangers, too.
A dark golden-black glow surged over Jordan's arms, spreading like liquid metal before hardening into something much denser—thick, plated rhino armor. His arms didn't just look stronger. They were walking battering rams now.
Ronan sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I literally told you not to use that form."
Jordan blinked. "You did?"
Elion, already lifting his own beast ring, nodded. "Yeah, something about wasting mana."
"Oh." Jordan shrugged, flexing his new rhino arms. "Well, too late now,"
Elion smirked. If Jordan was going all-in, he might as well match the energy. His Black Panther Ring flared.
Power surged through his legs, shifting them—faster, sleeker, stronger. His feet were encased in black panther armor, reinforced with golden-black plating. Razor-sharp claws glinted at the tips, ready to strike.
Jordan grinned. "Damn, bro. We actually look—"
Ronan shook his head as he cut Jordan's words. "Look like idiots. Both of you."
Because this morning, during training, he had specifically warned them that using the "cool" transformation would burn through their mana way faster. And yet, here they were.
Still, Ronan didn't really mind it. That was because, during the training earlier, he noticed something weird about Elion and Jordan.
Unlike him, who had to conserve mana and pick the most efficient transformations, these two recovered their mana faster than expected. Even though Earth's natural energy was weak, Elion and Jordan had somehow managed to restore their mana quicker than him.
He wondered why. The only explanation for now was that maybe they were original Earthlings, unlike him, who came from the Beast World. Their bodies weren't just adapting to the environment.
They were built for it. They were adapting faster than they should. Far faster. Ronan made a mental note—he'd have to look into that.
Meanwhile, Elion already stretched his panther-enhanced legs, testing his balance. His golden-black plated feet barely made a sound as he shifted his weight. It almost felt natural. Like this was how his body was supposed to move.
Jordan cracked his knuckles, admiring his rhino armor arms. "Dude, we look sick."
Elion really wanted to see what they looked like right now if they had a mirror. With their golden-black plated beast parts, he believed that they didn't just look like Slayers.
They looked like something more.
Something stronger.
Something impossible to ignore.
He wondered what else was in store for them, such as if they were able to open up more Mana Gates or... what if they were able to go to the Beast World.
What kind of life awaits them?
A slow smirk spread across Elion's face.
"Well," he said, rolling his shoulders, "since people are taking us for suspects…"
He kicked off the ground, his new panther legs barely making a sound, the world feeling just a little slower around him.
"…why don't we just be the coolest-looking suspects?"