NOVEL NEXT Chapter 14: Chapter 14
Raizel descended to the ground floor, his steps unhurried, his expression that of a man who had seen just about enough nonsense for one day.
The tunnel stretched before him—damp and carrying a scent that made him briefly consider turning around. Not because it was the worst thing he had ever smelled—no, but because it had the distinct wet-dog-meets-sewage stench that suggested he was about to meet something unpleasant.
Then, he heard footsteps. Several.
Raizel sighed.
Werewolves.
Or at least, that's what he had expected.
What emerged instead?
Something worse.
Scrawny, half-formed creatures with too much bone, not enough fur, and the distinct vibe of "we were an afterthought in evolution."
Raizel pursed his lips.
"They are not Lycans," he thought with the kind of disappointment one might feel when expecting premium steak but getting microwaved mystery meat instead. "They are tunnel rats."
How unfortunate.
For them.
Because unlike him, they were under the very wrong impression that they stood a chance.
The Lycans—or whatever half-baked creatures they were—surrounded him, eyes gleaming with hunger and aggression.
Raizel sighed again, this time louder, like a man who had been forced to work overtime without pay.
His eyes flickered red for a split second.
And suddenly—
The ones who had initially set their sights on him turned on each other instead.
One moment, they were poised to attack him.
The next?
They were tearing each other apart.
Raizel stood still, watching the carnage unfold with all the excitement of a man waiting for an elevator.
A few seconds later, when the screaming had reached an acceptable level, he turned and walked away.
Because, unlike them, he had things to do.
.....
Eventually, Raizel reached what was very obviously the Important Door™—the kind of door that screamed "something significant is inside, please break in".
It was massive, circular, and locked with an excessive amount of security.
Raizel placed a hand on the door, eyes glowing red as he muttered, "Subject 2."
The lock began to crumble like a stale biscuit, alarms blaring in protest.
Inside the chamber, Eve—a rather distressed hybrid—was already having a very bad day, and watching an unbreakable door spontaneously disintegrate wasn't helping.
As the door thudded to the ground, dust and smoke filled the air, making it impossible to see who had caused this latest nightmare. Eve tensed, baring her fangs, ready for a fight.
Then—
A shadow moved.
And then she saw them.
Red eyes.
Oh.
Eve was officially nervous.
From the swirling dust, a hand casually flicked outward, and just like that, the air cleared.
Raizel stepped inside, the very picture of calm indifference—like a man who had accidentally walked into the wrong department meeting but decided to stay anyway.
In the corner, a security camera beeped and flashing.
Raizel flicked his fingers.
It crumbled.
Eve, not sticking around to find out what else he could crumble, bolted for the exit.
Raizel let her go. Because, honestly? That was exactly what he expected her to do.
But—
A few meters away, Eve's escape took a turn for the worse.
One very unfortunate lycan—barely clinging to life from earlier events—made the very poor decision to get in her way.
It lasted all of three seconds before Eve ripped its jaw clean off and tossed it aside like a used napkin.
She kept running, clutching her bleeding side, only to run into something—or rather, someone—far worse.
Quint Lane.
An enhanced lycan, also injured and also fleeing from something.
Quint growled, fangs bared, as Eve shifted back into her hybrid form, eyes locking onto him.
It was about to get very messy—
Until Quint suddenly stopped, his gaze shifting over her shoulder.
Eve followed his stare and—
Oh.
Raizel.
Walking straight toward them like he had all the time in the world.
Quint's growl lowered.
"You are not strong enough to deal with him," Raizel spoke, not looking away from the over-sized bear.
Eve—who had no idea why—felt her hybrid form flicker and fail, her body returning to normal.
Quint took a desperate chance.
He roared and charged.
It was the last bad decision he would make.
Because mid-lunge, he collapsed—an invisible weight pressing him into the ground like gravity had just given up on being reasonable.
His knee cracked. Blood dripped. He struggled, but couldn't rise.
Raizel stopped in front of him, barely sparing him a glance.
"You are too big."
Quint shrank—his lycan form breaking, shifting back to his very human, very terrified self.
Raizel, finally meeting his eyes, tilted his head slightly.
"Now it's better."
From behind, footsteps approached.
Frankenstein.
Now covered in lycan blood, he stepped forward, bowed, and with zero shame, declared, "Forgive me, Master. I let a rat escape."
Raizel didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached out, touching the blood on Quint's face.
"Too bad," he mused, almost lazily. "You were after power. But in the end, what awaits you is death."
The blood—Quint's blood—began to rise from his body.
Not drip. Not splatter.
Rise.
The droplets hovered, swirling around Raizel in a slow, deliberate dance, forming a scarlet vortex.
Frankenstein, recognizing when to take a few steps back, did exactly that.
Quint, however, had no such luxury.
Trapped inside a spinning whirlpool of his own blood, he began to panic, thrashing and screaming, his eyes darting wildly for an escape that didn't exist.
Eve, still frozen in place behind Raizel, watched in silent horror.
She tried to move.
Tried to back away.
Only to find that—
She couldn't.
There was an invisible barrier—one that ensured she would not be leaving anytime soon.