Taeyang
What the bond awakens
The battlefield was fire and screams.
I moved like a storm through the chaos — blade drenched, hands bloodied, my rage barely tethered to control. Every breath I drew was filled with the scent of ash and sulfur, the roar of the Demon King's army echoing through the crumbling palace walls.
But I wasn’t looking for them.
I was looking for her.
My bond pulsed like a warning bell deep in my chest. The closer I got, the more it burned — a molten brand pressing against my ribs.
Yuna.
I saw her — fighting like hell, surrounded by three hellbeasts, her daggers flashing like silver fire. Beautiful. Relentless. Terrified.
And then everything stopped.
A demon twice her size lunged and slammed her against the cracked pillar. Her body crumpled with a sickening sound. Her scream — sharp and choked — tore through the air.
“No,” I breathed.
Time fractured.
I watched as the blade of a claw tore across her thigh. Her blood hit the stone, dark and too much.
I saw red.
Something inside me snapped.
The ground cracked beneath me as I released my restraint — a guttural roar erupting from my chest. I was no longer in control. The bond took me. Possessed me.
I became wrath.
My runes ignited, glowing red-hot. My skin cracked with power as the berserker inside rose — not for war, not for duty.
For her.
I threw myself into the fray, ripping the demons off her with my bare hands. One tried to run. I speared him with my blade and roared,
“You touched what was mine.”
The others didn’t even get a scream off before I shredded them with pure fury. I didn’t stop. Not until their bodies were unrecognizable. Until the air stank of burnt flesh.
Only then did I turn to her.
She lay bleeding, one hand gripping her leg, the other still clutching her blade. Her eyes widened when she saw me — not with fear, but something else.
Recognition. The bond sang between us. I dropped to my knees beside her.
“Taeyang,” she whispered, voice hoarse, but still fierce. “You—”
“You’re hurt,” I snapped, my hands already glowing as I pressed them over the wound, forcing my power into her.
“Why—why are you—”
I didn’t let her finish.
I grabbed her chin, leaned in close, and whispered:
“Because I couldn’t breathe when I saw you fall.”
Her lips parted.
And in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the war. Not the blood. Not the vow I once made to hate every part of her kind.
Only her.
Only Yuna.
And the bond — ours — burned brighter than ever.
At that moment I knew I could no longer deny it. But could she ever forgive me?