57: Cerebral Cataclysm

"No wonder Master slaughtered every last one of my subjects… This feeling is simply too incredible to ignore." Xylara's voice trembled with exhilaration, her violet eyes gleaming as she reveled in the chaos she had unleashed.

The massive snow-white wolf, Melvin, roared in unbridled fury. His icy blue eyes burned with rage, but his attacks were no longer precise, no longer the calculated strikes of a seasoned warrior. He was reckless—wild with grief and anger. His claws tore through the ground as he lunged, his fangs snapping at empty air, blind to everything but his desire to tear Xylara apart.

A smirk curled Xylara's lips. This was exactly what she wanted. Melvin was unraveling, his usual mental fortitude crumbling beneath the weight of his emotions. His defenses—both physical and magical—were weakening. And in this vulnerable state, he was nothing more than a beast driven by fury, a beast ripe for slaughter.

But that wasn't the only way to kill him. There were countless methods, each more entertaining than the last.

With a flick of her fingers, an illusion took form—fifteen gleaming blades, sharp as despair itself, hovering in the air like silent reapers. Infused with aetherius, the illusion solidified, bending reality until the swords were no longer mere tricks of the mind but tangible, deadly weapons.

On their own, they would not pierce Melvin's thick, battle-hardened muscles. But a rampaging beast was predictable, its movements raw and unguarded. Xylara's smirk deepened. A berserk animal always had weaknesses, and she knew exactly where to strike.

Xylara tilted her head, watching Melvin with mild amusement. He was a formidable warrior, but his mind—oh, his fragile, grief-stricken mind—was already slipping. It would be such a waste to kill him now. No, she had far better plans for him.

A sharp flick of her wrist sent the fifteen spectral blades whirling around Melvin. They danced through the air like cruel phantoms, their edges whispering against his fur. And then—slice. A thin line of red bloomed across his white coat.

Another flick—another wound. She didn't drive the blades deep, didn't aim to end his life. This was no mere battle; this was torment. Each wound was deliberate, precise, meant to keep him in agony without allowing him the mercy of death.

Melvin snarled, his claws raking against the ground as he lunged, his ice magic surging around him in a furious storm. But his rage only made him predictable. Xylara stepped back effortlessly, twirling with an elegance that made the battlefield her stage. With each miss, she rewarded him with another cut, another searing pain that forced him further into despair.

His breaths grew ragged, his icy aura flickering like a candle on the verge of being snuffed out. Xylara could see it—the moment he broke. It wasn't just the pain. It was the horror, the helplessness, the knowledge that no matter how hard he fought, he couldn't win.

She let him crumble a little more, let him writhe in suffering before finally raising a single hand. Dark violet energy coiled around her fingers like serpents, writhing and pulsing with the promise of devastation. This was her newly obtained power—Cerebral Cataclysm. A spell not of mere illusion, but of absolute mental annihilation.

With a cruel smirk, she whispered, "Fall."

The violet energy shot forth, slamming into Melvin's skull like a tidal wave. His howl turned into a strangled choke, his entire body convulsing. His brilliant blue eyes widened in sheer terror before the light within them dimmed, fading into a hollow, vacant stare. His massive form swayed, and then, with a slow, shuddering breath, he collapsed onto his knees before her.

Xylara exhaled in pure satisfaction. "How beautiful," she murmured, tracing a finger along Melvin's bloodied fur. "A king, reduced to a mindless pet."

The sound of a sharp, panicked gasp caught her attention.

Mia.

The Abyssal Wolf Queen awoke from the illusion, her crimson eyes flickering with confusion, horror taking hold as she took in the sight before her.

"Melvin…?" Her voice was barely a whisper, as if saying his name out loud would shatter whatever fragile hope she clung to.

Xylara turned to her with a wicked smile, her violet eyes glinting with amusement. "Ah, you're finally awake. I was beginning to wonder if you'd sleep through your husband's breaking. That would've been such a shame."

Mia's breath hitched. "What… what did you do to him?!"

"Oh, nothing too drastic," Xylara said mockingly. "Just a little… re-education. He belongs to me now, Mia. He kneels when I command, obeys when I speak. He has no thoughts, no will, no purpose beyond what I give him. And you? You're about to make a very important decision."

Mia trembled, her body screaming for her to transform, to tear Xylara apart. But the sight of Melvin—her strong, noble husband—bowing like a lifeless puppet before this monster—it stole her strength. Her claws dug into her palms, her breath ragged. "No… I won't let you…"

Xylara let out a soft chuckle. "You won't let me? Mia, darling, you have no power here." She stepped closer, placing a hand on Melvin's bowed head.

"But I'll make it simple for you. Surrender, and I might be merciful. Refuse… and I'll carve him apart, piece by piece, while you watch."

Mia's fangs bared in a silent snarl, fury and despair battling within her. She wanted to fight. She wanted to rip Xylara apart for what she had done. But… Melvin. Could she truly stand against this nightmare when her mate's life hung in the balance?

Xylara sighed, as if already bored. "Your silence isn't helping, Mia. But maybe this will make things clearer."

With a snap of her fingers, one of the spectral blades descended, piercing straight through Melvin's chest.

Mia's scream tore through the silent city. "NO!"

Xylara smirked, watching the horror twist Mia's face. But, of course, it was only an illusion. The blade had not truly harmed him, but to Mia, to her desperate, breaking mind—it was real.

The Beastkin Queen fell to her knees, her hands trembling as she reached out, helplessly, toward her husband. "Please… stop…"

Xylara crouched before her, tilting her head with feigned sympathy. "Then submit, Mia. Kneel. Swear your loyalty to my Master, and I'll let you both live."

Mia's lips trembled. Every instinct in her screamed to resist, to fight. But she knew the truth. Xylara had already won. Melvin was lost to her, and if she refused… she would lose him forever.

Her fists clenched. Her pride, her honor, her kingdom—she would throw it all away if it meant keeping him alive.

Slowly, painfully, Mia lowered her head. And then… she knelt.

Xylara let out a breath of delight, her fingers caressing Mia's chin, forcing the broken queen to meet her gaze. "Good girl."

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