Chapter Ten #2
Obsidian-like scales covered his hulking frame, each plate dark and gleaming with a preternatural sheen that seemed to drink in the light.
Faint crimson veins pulsed beneath the surface, the glow spreading in rhythmic waves that hinted at something vile thrumming in his core.
Corded muscles rippled beneath the armor of scales with every predatory shift of his stance.
His forelimbs—massive and knotted with sinew—ended in claws of blackened steel, each curved talon longer than a dagger and honed to a killing edge.
One flex of those monstrous hands promised the power to rend through anything he wished as if it were parchment, and the way they gouged furrows into the crystal floor left no doubt he would.
Gone was the quiet contemplation. In its place was a being made up of wild, frantic, primitive energy that strengthened every nerve, every muscle. His eyes now burned with an eerie, golden fire—eyes that promised utter destruction.
Baelon raised a crystalline arm in defense, but he was too late.
Without a thought, The Beast unleased Azazel’s psychic energy, freezing the Krystalii in place before his claws slashed through Baelon’s chest. He cut deep into the apatite structure of the Krystalii’s body.
A fractured, resonant scream erupted from the tyrant as he staggered backward. Navy-blue energy spilled from the wounds, oozing from him like smoldering lava.
The Beast did not relent. He barreled into Baelon with crushing force, driving the alien overlord onto the shattered remains of the crystal cage littered on the floor.
Baelon twisted, and his jagged fingers sparkled with psychic energy. He lashed out with a concussive blast meant to throw The Beast off-balance.
The air trembled, the force enough to send debris spiraling outward in all directions.
The Beast absorbed the impact as the Krystalii power saturated every cell of his body. Snarling, he clamped one massive, clawed paw around Baelon’s throat, lifting the despot off the ground.
The Krystalii’s crystalline form flickered, his pulsating glow erratic as if he fought to restore himself.
But The Beast wouldn’t allow that to happen. Holding fast to the struggling alien, he brought the helpless tyrant to the end of his snout and howled with a rumbling roar.
The once-omnipotent alien now faced the one thing Azazel had spent centuries restraining. Caught in his impenetrable grip.
With a satisfied sneer, The Beast squeezed, and his claws pierced the fragile crystalline structure of Baelon’s throat.
A sickening crack echoed around the chamber as Baelon clawed at The Beast’s grip, his fingers scraping against obsidian flesh. Not that it did any good. He found no purchase.
Baelon’s eyes flickered as rage and something dangerously close to fear reflected in their crystalline depths.
The Beast bared his set of double-rowed fangs and brought the Krystalii closer.
“Look who’s helpless now, dalkhu.” The heavy words came from deep within him.
With a single, devastating motion, he hurled Baelon across the chamber.
The Krystalii’s body struck the wall with a thunderous impact, shattering it into a kaleidoscope of splintered crystals. Diverse colors of blue energy crackled through Baelon’s form, flickering like a dying star.
The Beast advanced, muscles coiling, determined to end this.
Baelon sat up, coughing out pieces of his fractured form.
He lifted his head and sneered, his voice coming out in a hoarse rasp.
“You think this changes anything?” He staggered to his feet, crystalline shards and dust breaking off with each movement.
“You are too late. My kind will decimate yours even if I’m gone. ”
Azazel shook his metaphysical head as he watched the scene unfold. That was going to be Baelon’s biggest mistake… taunting the creature.
The Beast roared, a thunderous screech so loud it shook the ground. Then, with a final, explosive surge, he lunged—pure fury in motion. His claws flashed, sharp as unbreakable razors, his primitive hunger howling for Krystalii blood.
Keeping his psionic hold on Baelon tight, The Beast struck. He moved like a force of nature—unstoppable, inevitable. His claws raked across the Krystalii’s body, and each swipe sent deeper cracks that splintered through that crystalline form.
Dark-blue energy leaked faster from Baelon like a geyser as he staggered back. His arrogance crumbled alongside his fractured body.
The Beast couldn’t… wouldn’t stop. He’d waited too long, endured too much to deny his very instinct. Every moment of restraint, every ounce of control Azazel had ever forced over him, was long gone. His rage burst free, no longer contained, and he seized his prize with unstoppable force.
Driving his massive fist into Baelon’s chest, he lifted the crystalline tyrant off his feet and slammed him against the jagged wall of the chamber.
The impact sent another shock wave and created cracks that raced across the structure like shards of lightning.
Baelon’s glowing eyes widened, and his jagged, sharp teeth bared in something between terror and disbelief. He raised one trembling hand, energy crackling between his fingers.
The Beast’s claws came down and crushed the gathered power before the Krystalii could let it loose. “Enough,” he growled, his voice a guttural snarl, savage and far from human.
Baelon gasped. His crystalline frame flickered, and the once-imposing icy-blue sheen of his body dimmed, its former clarity now turning colorless.
The pressure shifted, growing heavier and charged with something beyond the physical.
Even housed within The Beast, Azazel sensed the way Baelon’s presence unraveled.
The fragile balance of the Krystalii’s existence slipped through fractured cracks throughout his body.
He wheezed, his words layered in a fragmented chuckle. “You fool. You… cannot… stop what has begun.” His voice was weaker now, distorted, as though he spoke through a static connection.
The Beast tightened his grip around Baelon’s throat. “Doesn’t matter. You won’t live to see it.”
Rearing back with a roar, he sang in triumph as he delivered one final, brutal blow. His claws tore through the last fragile hold Baelon had on this realm.
The Krystalii’s body shattered into a thousand fragments of fractured blue light. For a brief second, the space where Baelon had stood rippled, collapsing inward as the crystal fragments flickered and disintegrated, vanishing into nothingness.
The only thing left was… silence.
The Beast stood, his breath ragged, his massive chest heaving with each exhale.
His clawed paws curled, then unfurled. The restless energy of the battle still thrummed through his veins.
The weight of his transformation pulsed and lingered just beneath the surface, reluctant to recede.
He turned, locking his eyes on Toni’s unconscious form.
His rage faded and was replaced by something far sharper. Fear.
For Toni.
The battle was over. But for Azazel, deeply entrenched inside The Beast, the actual fight had just begun.
Holy God. Toni groaned. Hopefully, someone got the license plate of the damn truck that ran her over. With a grimace, she rolled over onto her back. Taking a deep breath, she coughed when some fine dust landed in her nose and made her sneeze. She waved a hand over her face, trying to clear the air.
Rubbing her eyes, she took a chance and opened them… and blinked. Several times. Filling her vision were three of the handsomest men she’d ever seen. The blond on her left had steel-gray eyes that twinkled with mischief.
“Well, hello there, pretty lady,” he said, placing his crooked elbow on his bent knee. “You doin’ okay?”
“Arakiba,” admonished the man on her right. “Do I have to bring in Morgan to make you behave?”
“Bro!” Arakiba snorted, shrugging gleefully. “Just being friendly, is all, Aba.”
The man who reprimanded the blond had to be the leader of the trio. While his tone was playful, the underlying solemnity was unmistakable.
She took in his striking appearance and swallowed a moan of appreciation.
His skin was so dark it gleamed with purple highlights. His shoulder-length black hair, a mass of corkscrew curls, rested on his massive, muscular shoulders.
“Ignore them,” said the man next to the blond.
His Native American features were near perfect, a symmetrical creation that was beyond handsome.
He gave the other man an admonishing glare before focusing on her and putting his hand over his heart.
“I’m Asmodel.” He thumbed the blond man next to him.
“That’s Arakiba, and over there,” he nodded to the dark giant across from him, “Is Abalim.” He stretched his hand to her.
“Can I help you up?” His eyes, an astounding mixture of chestnut-brown and leaf-green with a starburst of gold flecks, gave her an open and friendly look, w
hich helped calm Toni’s frayed nerves.
She scrunched her nose. “Yes, thank you.” She took his hand and sat up, then frowned as she glanced around. “What happened? And where’s Bae…lon?” Her eyes widened when she noticed the huge creature over Asmodel’s shoulder.
It was some kind of monster. A humongous beast standing on four legs, heaving and snorting as its breath scissored in and out, creating a plume of smoke with each exhale.
Its fierce gold eyes stared right at her.
“What’s that?” she whispered, tightening her hold on Asmodel’s hand.
The creature’s eyes focused on their clasped hands and lowered its head with a rumbling whine.
“What’s it doing?”
Arakiba chuckled and separated her hand from Asmodel’s. “He knows who his momma is.”
She gave Asmodel an awkward glance before staring back at the beast with a huff. “What in the hell does that mean?”
“It means—” Asmodel frowned at Arakiba. “—underneath all that fierce exterior is our brother, Azazel.”