CHAPTER 16 :- THE HUNGER THAT REMAINS

James' transformation wasn't abrupt- it was slow, excruciatingly slow. And oh so very painful.

Dio watched blankly, his red eyes devoid of empathy, gloating,or guilt- not a single flicker of emotion. James screamed, his voice raw, shredded by agony, but the pain didn't stop, it probably increased as his body convulsed, his bones twisting, snapping like brittle twigs before reforming into something monstrous. Veins bulged and blackened, blood like molten magma coursing through them, boiling his insides. His nails tore from his fingertips, ragged and bloodied, clawing at the ground In a desperate, useless plea for mercy.

His mind shattered under the torment- fracturing like glass struck by a hammer. Between screams, he choked out Dio's name - sometimes a plea, begging for it to end, other times a curse, his voice seething with hatred. "Devil!" He spat between ragged gasps. "How could you do this." A broken, trembling whisper."to your own brother."

But he was fading now.

Each moment stole something from him- his memories, his dreams, his very identity all washing away like fresh paint In a storm.

By the time the clock struck midnight, James Rodriguez was no more.

The screaming had stopped.

The silence was suffocating. If Dio hadn't nullified the sounds in the room, it would have long been flooded by S.A.M.T guards right from when the first scream started.

Slowly, Dio stepped forward, eyes fixed on the hulking, crumpled mass that had once been his brother.

"No sign of breathing" he noted " is he dead?"

SLASH!!

Dio bent backwards at an unnatural angle, his spine arching into a perfect 90- degree as a claw tore through the air where his head had been.

Above him, a massive clawed arm hung suspended in the air, the force of the strike so fierce it split the wind itself, sending a sharp shockwave outward. " A hair slower and that would have been my throat."

Dio flipped backward once, twice, three times, each movement both fast and controlled. His feet barely grazed the floor before he launched himself again, this time in a single, fluid motion, twisting midair and landing upside down on the ceiling.

Clinging to the surface, Dio stared down at the creature below.

The thing that had once been James stood fully upright now.

It was monstrous

Standing over twelve feet tall, he was less a man and more a living fortress, a hulking mass of raw power. His body rippled with muscle so dense it looked as though his flesh had been sculpted from iron. Veins, thick and pulsating like coiled cables, laced across biceps that bulged like wrecking balls and forearms like solid steel beams. His chest was a plated wall of sinew, each pectoral deeply etched, as if he wore a suit of living armor. His abs weren't just defined—they were carved, stacked with mechanical precision, an engine of destruction forged from flesh and bone.

His claws were obsidian scythes, each fingertip tapering to a razor-sharp edge that glistened under the dim light, as though dipped in the abyss itself. They weren't just sharp—they were unnaturally honed, capable of rending steel as if it were parchment, slicing through flesh and bone without resistance. When he flexed his fingers, the very air seemed to recoil, faint distortions forming around his talons as if space itself feared their touch. These were not mere weapons; they were extensions of his wrath instruments of slaughter waiting for release.

His shoulders were vast, broad enough to cast a shadow like a mountain, the deltoids layered so thickly they resembled overlapping slabs of metal. When he moved, his muscles didn't just shift—they rippled, grinding together like tectonic plates, dense and unyielding. His legs were pillars of destruction , so thick with sinew they looked ready to snap steel cables from sheer force alone. Even standing still, he radiated a primal, terrifying energy—not just strength but war itself.

And then there were his teeth—no longer human. They were serrated fangs, jagged and interlocking designed not for chewing but for ripping and tearing, built solely for predation.

But it was his eyes that sent the first shiver down Dio's spine.

Twin suns of burning crimson, swirling with something far worse than rage. They weren't just red—they smoldered, molten rubies brimming with an insatiable mindless hunger. Looking into them was like staring into the heart of a storm, a maelstrom of pure carnage barely restrained.There was no intelligence there—no trace of James Rodriguez, no memory, no ambition. Only a beast.

The creature slowly lifted its gaze to Dio.

For the first time in a long while, Dio felt something—a faint, almost imperceptible chill.

"Who would have imagined that moments ago you were just a fifteen- year -old boy."