An hour earlier, back in the abandoned battlefield.

  Within the now-dispersing shroud of fog, Blood Harvest stood alone. Detecting no more targets, an air of palpable disappointment clung to the beast. It would have gladly savored more bloodshed, but the hunt, it seemed, was over.

  Just as it began to turn toward its burrow, it froze. Its long ears snapped upright, swiveling. It had detected something.

  From a shadowy pocket amongst the thinning mist, two figures emerged.

  They were none other than Rosafey and her confidant, Athen. The two had not fled with the others. Instead, they had used the chaos of the battle and the blanket of the escape fog to separate from the group, melting into the landscape unnoticed. They had remained hidden, patient, until this very moment.

  Now, they stood alone on the crimson-stained battlefield , face to face with the dreaded Titled Beast.

  Rosafey gazed upon the Titled Beast, her eyes unnervingly even, untainted by fear or hesitation. a shocking demeanor for someone who had just witnessed this creature lay waste to an entire battalion of beast catalysers.

  "Are we alone?" she asked her companion, her gaze never leaving the beast.

  Athen closed her eyes, her focus turning inward for a moment. "Yes, my lady. Gryla's group has successfully escaped the beast's territory. Only we remain."

  "Good," Rosafey remarked. "Then we can work without eyes dropping."

  As the two Catalysers spoke, Blood Harvest watched them with a predatory curiosity. Perhaps it could still treat itself to more bloodshed after all. The beast crouched, its powerful haunches coiling as it prepared to launch itself at them.

  However, a second later, it stopped. Its ears twitched, detecting something else. Blood Harvest retracted its stance, its head turning as it scanned the thinning fog. Then, its eyes began to shine with savage glee.

  The reason soon became clear. Throughout the dispersing mist, the horde of Vorpal Rabbits was regaining its senses. The moment the lesser beasts caught sight of the two humans, they would waste no time in tearing them to shreds. Blood Harvest knew this. So Instead of wasting it's own energy to entertain itself, it decided to let its lesser kin create a spectacle for it .

  The Titled Beast settled back on its haunches, its eyes narrowing with cruel anticipation, ready to enjoy the show.

  Not long after, the horde of vorpal rabbits did indeed take notice of Rosafey and Athen's presence, and not a moment later the two were about to be assaulted by a wave of rabid beasts coming from all directions.

  Where others would have already started despairing, Rosafey remained ever so tranquil in the face of the seemingly impending doom racing towards her. She merely turned her gaze backwards, casually registering the approaching beasts as if it were no big deal, before turning her gaze back to Blood Harvest.

  She then casually said, "Nox, some space, please." Her words, seemingly spoken into the empty air, were met with an unexpected response.

  "As my lady commands," the words suddenly came, seemingly out of nowhere—until Rosafey's own shadow suddenly churned as if alive, and a dark figure peeled out of it.

  That being Nox, Rosafey's second loyal confidant, who, though never seen by anyone, had always been by his lady's side ever since he finished his espionage mission back at the Pride Rock station.

  Nox was Rosafey's figurative and literal shadow, a hidden blade always meant to remain sheathed until she decided it was time to draw him. And one such time was now.

  Nox didn't leave his lady's side, still close to her back, poking out of her shadow like a shady wraith. His black cloak seeming to meld with the shadow he stood within.

  Nox, with a scowl on his face, gazed upon the approaching horde of beasts, responding to the sight of them with a mere scoff.

  He then brought up his right arm, lifting half of his shadowy cloak with it. From within the darkness nestling under his cloak, something stirred—something alive. The creature's features were impossible to determine; only a pair of vicious eyes and rows of canine teeth could be observed.

  The beast's figure was completely obscured under the shadow of Nox's cloak, as if the creature was the darkness itself. Yet despite its concealed form, the beast acted anything but shy. Its eyes gazed madly from the shadows, its teeth clenched tightly in a savage growl—the type of growl that begins deep in its throat and ends deep in the throat of someone else's.

  Nox hunched a bit, his arm still lifted to his side. He lowered his head, his gaze never diverting from the approaching threat in front of him.

  Then, in a low yet deep voice, he uttered but one word to the living darkness at his side.

  "Bite."

  Almost as soon as that word was uttered, the approaching wave of beasts came to a halt all at once.

  Unlike what one would expect, nothing jumped out from the darkness underneath Nox's cloak. No. Instead, the moment Nox gave his command, all the nearby shadows—cast by the canopies and trunks of the trees littering the place—suddenly churned and moved, lining themselves in the path of the incoming beasts.

  And the moment those beasts stepped into these shadows was the moment their lives were forfeit. Each rabbit suddenly and violently stopped in its tracks. The nearby shadows didn't just seem to come to life; they somehow grew teeth as well—teeth that stabbed themselves into the body of any rabbit that crossed them.

  The Vorpal Rabbits screamed and cried as they were impaled and torn apart by disembodied shadowy fangs. Blood soaked the ground where they struggled. Once the ones about to unleash a massacre, they were the ones being massacred instead.

  Blood Harvest shuddered, watching this unexpected turn of events. It stirred, wide-eyed with contracted pupils. How could all its lesser kin be thwarted and slain so easily? It had wanted bloodshed, but this twisted its desire.

  The Titled Beast immediately strengthened its posture, alert and clearly enraged by the slaughter of its kin. Its gaze locked onto Rosafey, who was still staring at him with nonchalant calm. Tired of her taunting, empty gaze, it decided to dispatch her first.

  The beast screeched, then struck with fury, leaping toward the waiting Catalyser with great force. It twisted its body mid-air, swinging its sickles to deliver a dire slash.

  Facing the incoming strike, Rosafey responded by doing something outright ludicrous, she stood her ground and parried.

  Her slender rapier cut through the air with great speed, unsheathed in less than an instant, to meet the slashing sickles of the Titled Beast.

  A loud ding boomed over the battlefield, and sparks flew as the blades of the two collided. In the end, it was Blood Harvest who was pushed backward, its attack fully deflected.

  Once its feet were back on the ground, the beast lifted its head, its eyes a mirror of shock and confusion. A puny human—just like the ones it had been ravaging not long ago—had actually matched its strength.

  The beast glared, completely baffled. In its head, it just didn’t add up—a sentiment any other human would have shared if they saw Rosafey, a human, go toe-to-toe with a Titled Beast and actually hold her own.

  The next moment, as Blood Harvest was still too stunned to move, Rosafey casually brought down her blade and moved the wrist of the hand that held it.

  Crick-crack.

  Grotesque crackling noises resounded. It sounded like it must really hurt. It seemed Rosafey’s parry wasn’t as flawless as it seemed; her body had clearly received some damage from trying to physically confront a Catalyst beast.

  Rosafey however displayed no discomfort or any signs of pain, only gazing at her damaged wrist before muttering, “Hmm. It’s strong… Best not to push it.”

  She turned her gaze over her shoulder to Athen, who stood behind her. “Athen, assistance if you may .”

  Athen smiled and nodded. “Of course, my lady.”

  She then closed her eyes, delving deep into her being before calling forth from within it. A shimmer of light flared beside her, and the beast she summoned materialized.

  Now standing by her side was a beast resembling a large feline—specifically, a sphinx cat the size of a puma. It had only a thin layer of light purple fur, quite strange for a mammal. Its face looked scrunny but was not disheveled; most of its space was taken by its large, round eyes with silvery-white pupils, quite hypnotizing if one stared long enough. The beast also had a pair of big, flat ears pointing upright from the sides of its head. The most interesting feature, however, was the round pearl embedded in the center of its forehead.

  Athen gently placed her hand atop her beast’s head; the large cat responded with gentle purrs. Then, the Catalyser crouched next to her beast, and both closed their eyes and stood perfectly still.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Seeing her confidant’s strange action, Rosafey asked no questions nor demanded any explanation. She knew exactly what her subordinate was doing—and it was exactly what she asked of her .

  Without waiting another moment, Rosafey fixed her gaze, raised her blade, and launched forward to begin her battle against the Titled Beast.

  Blood Harvest finally snapped awake once Rosafey began approaching. Her clear issue of challenge was about to be met.

  Seeing the puny human dare to attack it alone was the final straw. First, she had humiliated it by ruining its show. Then, she had humiliated it further by blocking its attack. And now this.

  The fur on Blood Harvest’s body stood on end. The beast had reached its tipping point. It would no longer accept any intruders remaining alive.

  Rosafey closed the distance in a blur.

  Her rapier lanced forward, a silver needle seeking crimson flesh. Blood Harvest twisted, its sickle sweeping up to deflect, and the two weapons met in another shower of sparks. This time, the beast didn't hesitate—it followed through, spinning its body into a second slash aimed at her midsection.

  Rosafey's blade was already repositioning to parry when a calm voice sounded from behind.

  "Left."

  She moved before thought. Her feet shifted, her body tilted, and the sickle whistled past her ribs with less than a finger's width to spare. She didn't look back at Athen. She didn't need to.

  Blood Harvest pressed its advantage, sensing weakness. It launched a flurry—sickles flashing in overlapping arcs, each strike faster than the last. A slash to the neck. A stab to the chest. A spinning kick aimed at her legs.

  "Right. Down. Back."

  Each word was a lifeline. Rosafey flowed around the attacks like water around stone, her movements guided by Athen's quiet, unwavering voice. The beast's sickles carved only air. Its fury mounted with every miss.

  It feinted high, then dropped low, sweeping its leg at her ankle.

  "Jump."

  Rosafey leaped. The sickle scraped the dirt beneath her soles. In that split second of air, she twisted her body and brought her rapier down in a sharp, diagonal stroke. The tip caught the edge of Blood Harvest's long ear—a glancing cut, shallow but true.

  A thin line of red welled up along the torn cartilage.

  The beast recoiled, its paw shooting up to touch the wound. It stared at the blood on its own foot—its blood—with something between disbelief and outrage. For a single heartbeat, the battlefield fell silent.

  After thier clash, Rosafey stood still for a second, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. She then lifted her slender blade to her eyes, noting the thin stream of blood flowing along its length.

  At the sight, a faint and cryptic smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Rosafey smiled as if she had already won.

  Blood Harvest, upon seeing its own blood being shed, trembled with sheer anger.

  The next moment, Athen yelled, "My lady, watch out!"

  The Titled Beast launched itself into the air, twisting its body with violent momentum. As it spun, it kicked downward with both sickle-feet, unleashing a crimson blade crescent—two metres in size—that shot toward Rosafey with terrifying speed.

  The crimson crescent screamed through the air, a reaper's arc of condensed fury. It carved the space between them in less than a heartbeat, its edges humming with the promise of annihilation.

  Yet despite that rosafey did not move.

  The blade crashed directly into her, and the world erupted in crimson light and dust.

  Blood Harvest roared in triumph at the annihilation of its hated enemy.

  But before it could turn its gaze to Athen or Nox still nearby, it froze.

  As the dust settled, a figure emerged from the fading crimson haze—still standing, still alive.

  Blood Harvest's triumphant screech died in its throat, replaced by a low, guttural snarl of disbelief.

  However, its shock wasn't over yet. As the dust continued to dissipate, another unexpected figure revealed itself.

  The creature perched upon Rosafey's shoulder, with the size of 0.8 metres most resembled a dove .

  Its feathers were a palette of dark purple, red, and white. Dark purple covered most of its body, while white created two large patches atop its head and across its torso. Halfway across its wings and tail, the feathers shifted to reddish hues, deepening to a vivid crimson at the edges.

  And finally, on the upper side of its breast, in the middle of its white torso, the creature bore a patch of crystal crimson feathers shaped like a big, bleeding heart.

  This was Rosafey's totem beast—the Sanguine Heart Dove.

  For the first time since the battle began, the Titled Beast went completely still. Its crimson eyes locked onto the creature perched upon Rosafey's shoulder and something primal stirred deep within its core.

  The dove gazed back at it. Not with aggression, not even with anger. Its small, dark eyes held an unsettling calm, a quiet nobility that seemed utterly foreign to this blood-soaked field. It did not flinch nor did it blink. It simply regarded Blood Harvest, as one might observe a curious insect.

  And then the beast felt it.

  It's taint. The unmistakable, visceral mark of the Blood Subtype—the same predatory essence that coursed through its own veins. But where Blood Harvest's power was raw, feral, earned through slaughter and evolution, this creature's presence was something else entirely.

  It was purer. More refined. As if the very power of blood that it wielded had been distilled into something far more complex and elegant .

  Blood Harvest's ears flattened. A low, uncertain chitter escaped its throat. For the first time, it did not see prey before it. It saw something it did not understand—and instinctively, deeply, it hesitated.

  During its moment of hesitation, Rosafey made her next move.

  "Let's finish this," she muttered.

  She moved her totem from her shoulder to her free hand, cradling the Sanguine Heart Dove in her palm as she lowered it. Simultaneously, she lifted her blade with the other.

  With deliberate, surgical precision, she brought the tip of her rapier to the dove's beak. The thin stream of Blood Harvest's blood—still fresh, still glistening—dripped slowly from the steel into the waiting creature's mouth.

  Once the dove fully ingested the blood, a change soon occurred.

  The heart-shaped patch of feathers on its breast began to shimmer with a soft, pulsating crimson glow.

  It pulsed once. Twice. A slow, steady rhythm—like a second heartbeat awakening within the small creature's chest. The light grew stronger with each pulse, casting a warm, eerie radiance across Rosafey's face and hands.

  The Sanguine Heart Dove lifted its head, its dark eyes now reflecting the same crimson luminescence. Its small body trembled, not in fear, but in anticipation.

  Blood Harvest watched, frozen, as powerful force stirred within the delicate frame of the creature before it.

  Rosafey gazed upon the glow of her beast with eyes that, though still and tranquil, held a tint of deep, unmistakable emotion. It was as if she was reminiscing something in the light of her totem beast .

  Then, without uttering a single word, Rosafey brought her beast upward with her arm, the two looking deeply into each other's eyes. A silent conversation passed between them, witnessed only by the crimson glow that pulsed gently between their shared gaze.

  Rosafey strengthened the grip on her sword in her other hand.

  Then, slowly, deliberately, she pointed the tip squarely at her own beast.

  In that exact moment, Blood Harvest shuddered.

  It didn't know why. It couldn't explain the sudden dread coiling in its chest. But witnessing what was happening before it—the woman and her beast locked in that silent, crimson-lit communion—it was overwhelmed by an unmistakable sense of grave danger.

  The beast didn't think.

  As if sensing its very life hung in the balance, it rushed forward with desperate, reckless speed. Its sickles gleamed, its body a red blur scrambling to stop whatever was about to unfold.

  But it was too late.

  Before Blood Harvest could stop them, Rosafey—in a single, fluid instant—thrust her blade forward.

  And she actually stabbed her own beast.

  The slender rapier sank into the glowing heart of the dove. The crimson light within the creature flared violently, shuddered, then blazed with unbearable intensity.

  The moment the deed was done, an unexpected reaction tore through the Titled Beast.

  Blood Harvest, still mid-charge, was struck dead in its tracks. Its eyes bulged. Its mouth burst open in a silent, choked scream. Deep within its body, a violent shock resounded—as if every drop of its own blood had simultaneously ignited in its veins.

  The beast collapsed to its knees, its sickles scraping the earth. It hunched forward, huffing and wheezing, thick drool spilling from its trembling jaw as it convulsed in agonizing bewilderment.

  Yet sadly, its torment had only just begun.

  Rosafey pulled out her blade. Though she and her totem both felt the pain of their previous action, neither were done. They endured.

  Rosafey brought her blade forward again.

  She stabbed.

  Once more, the steel sank into the glowing heart of the dove. Once more, the crimson light flared and shuddered. And once more, Blood Harvest suffered a wave of internal damage exploding within its body—its own blood turning against it, rupturing vessels and searing flesh from the inside.

  A strangled, pitiful screech escaped the beast. Its legs buckled. Its frame trembled violently, no longer the dominant predator, but a broken thing kneeling in the dirt.

  Rosafey pulled the blade free. The dove's heart pulsed, still glowing, still waiting.

  She raised her sword again.

  What followed was seemingly a festival of self-mutilation.

  Rosafey stabbed and slashed at her totem's glowing heart, each strike precise and deliberate. The dove accepted each wound without complaint, its crimson light flaring brighter with every blow. And with each strike, it was Blood Harvest who suffered.

  The Titled Beast tried to put an end to its torment. It lunged forward, sickles raised—but a wave of agonizing rupture exploded within its veins, halting its attack mid-swing. It tried again, and again, each attempt thwarted by its own rebellious blood searing through its organs.

  Soon, it was Blood Harvest who filled the forest with screams and cries. It was Blood Harvest who watered the crimson earth with its own leaking wounds.

  It reached the point where the mighty Titled Beast abandoned the notion of fighting entirely. It no longer wanted victory. It no longer wanted blood. It only wanted the pain to stop.

  It tried to turn. It tried to run.

  But Rosafey made sure the blunt of her attacks kept the beast nailed in place, anchored to its suffering with every thrust of her blade.

  Nox and Athen watched solemnly from the distance.

  They gave no pity to the beast's agonized cries. No flinch at the wet, tearing sounds that echoed through the blood-soaked clearing. No turn of the gaze away from their lady's gruesome handiwork.

  They simply watched in silence, as they always had. As they always would.

  The forest listened to the screams of the fallen king, and two shadows bore quiet witness to its unmaking.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity of pain, Rosafey stopped.

  Blood Harvest remained a thrash of broken flesh and crimson fur, a ruined body laid low upon the forest floor. Its breath came in shallow, wet rasps. Its sickles, once instruments of swift death, now dragged uselessly through the dirt.

  Rosafey walked forward and stood before the beast.

  As she loomed over him, Blood Harvest summoned the last dregs of its strength. It struggled to lift its head from the ground—for what reason, who could say? Perhaps a final struggle. Perhaps to curse, to beg, or simply to bleed its last with what little dignity remained.

  Whatever its reason, it did not matter.

  Rosafey brought forth her foot and pressed the beast's head back down into the crimson earth. Firm. Final. Denying it any form of resistance.

  With the damage it had sustained, Blood Harvest could only whimper in response—a pitiful, helpless sound from a creature once accustomed to hearing such cries from others. It whimpered as it was stepped on by a mere human, one it had been accustomed to seeing as mere playthings.

  The hunter had become the hunted. The king, the kneeling.

  As she pressed the beast to the ground, she gazed upon him with crimson eyes, contemplating his fate. Then, in a nonchalant tone, she said, "I'm keeping you."

  Rosafey activated the Beast Communion Art.

  In an instant, her will and Blood Harvest's came face to face within the depths of the beast's own consciousness. Though what transpired in that mental space could not be seen from the outside.

  All that could be seen was that Blood Harvest's pupils contracted sharply in fear as his will came face to face with rosafey's. Then Its body shuddered violently, a final, desperate tremor. Before it went completely still.

  It was over.

  Rosafey finally unsheathed her blade and unsummoned her totem, to let it rest and recover. Her figure seemed to deflate a little, hidden fatigue creeping into her posture despite her composed exterior.

  Athen stepped forward. "My lady?" she asked, her tone clearly laced with concern. Even Nox, who said nothing, was looking toward his master with eyes that spoke through his hard exterior.

  Rosafey did not let her confidants worry about her for long. "I am fine," she said, despite not turning to face them.

  They accepted this response and did not question further.

  Rosafey stretched her arm backward, opening her palm in request. "Pass me a tonic."

  "Right away, my lady," Athen answered, procuring a vial of mysterious blood-red liquid.

  Rosafey downed it in one gulp, letting out a faint sigh of relief afterward. She turned to her subordinates and said simply, "Let's wrap things up."

  The first thing the group did was apply medicine to the thrash body of Blood Harvest. The beast was already one step into the grave, and it would be a shame for Rosafey to lose her new acquisition so soon.

  After treating the beast, Blood Harvest recovered enough to stand on its feet again.

  The Titled Beast sat before Rosafey obediently and quietly. Its posture was weak, its long ears dropped low in complete submission. The earlier hostility, the savage aggression, the predatory gleam in its eyes—all of it was gone, erased under Rosafey's new control.

  It simply sat there, waiting. Watching its new master with the quiet patience of a tamed hound.

  Rosafey regarded it for a moment, then gave a small, satisfied nod.

  Once that was dealt with, the trio went on to sweep the battlefield.

  There was little to nothing of value to be found—except for the carcasses of the Vorpal Rabbits littering the place. And seeming to indeed have a use for them, the trio collected and stored them using some kind of boon, the remains vanishing into whatever spatial storage they carried.

  But their greatest gain from this battle came when Nox, who had been investigating the area, called out to Rosafey.

  He had found something within Blood Harvest's burrow.

  Looking inside the burrow, Rosafey and her companions were met with the sight of a cluster of pale fungi with caps curved like tiny sickles, growing in the depths of the den.

  These were Sicklecap Mushrooms—a rare Blood-type catalyst.

  Athen observed them for a moment before offering her conclusion. "This must be the main catalyst that allowed Blood Harvest to evolve."

  Rosafey studied the cluster with mild interest. "Hmm. Not bad." She tilted her head, considering. "Although it won't do the same for my totem beast, it's still a Blood-type catalyst. Beneficial."

  She gestured casually toward the mushrooms. "Pocket it."

  Nox moved immediately to comply.

  From the sidelines, Blood Harvest could only gaze with pained eyes as it watched its home get raided. Not only had it lost its freedom, but now its most valuable treasure—the very catalyst that had elevated it to a Titled Beast—was being taken as well.

  A low, almost imperceptible whimper escaped its throat. Yet no one paid it any mind.

  Once that was finished, the trio were set.

  The three stood there for a moment before Rosafey looked at her two confidants and spoke. "Now that this Titled Beast is ours, our true objective can finally be set in motion. I trust you both know what to do from here."

  Nox and Athen gave silent nods in unison.

  Without another word, Nox stepped back and melted into his lady's shadow, disappearing from sight as if he had never been there at all. Athen simply moved to her usual place at Rosafey's side, falling into step like a shadow of a different kind.

  Rosafey muttered quietly to herself, "Well then."

  She took the first step forward to leave the blood-soaked forest behind.

  "Let's go make some fans ."