Chapter-3

The creature looms against the bruised-plum sky, its grotesque form casting jagged shadows across the forest floor. For a second, it just stands there, glowing eyes narrowing, like it's struggling to process my complete and utter lack of reaction. The growl in its throat fades into a low, hissing whisper.

"Weak?" The word slithers through the air, warping and stretching like the trees around us. "You dare call me weak? I am the terror of this land! I am the shadow that consumes all!"

I don't flinch. Don't react. I just watch. There's something theatrical about its anger, a desperate need for validation woven into every word. This thing doesn't just want fear—it needs it. And that? That's almost… sad.

I tilt my head slightly, studying it, not with my eyes, but with something deeper. Instinct. Intuition. Whatever you want to call it, it tells me everything I need to know. This thing isn't strong—not really. Its power is borrowed, leeching off Wonderland's corruption like a parasite. And parasites? They're only as strong as their host.

"Your power isn't yours," I say, my voice calm, almost casual. "You're just a leech clinging to a dying host. Your strength? It's an illusion."

That does it. The thing lunges, all sharp claws and reckless fury. A chaotic flurry of limbs that would probably be terrifying—if I hadn't already seen it coming a mile away.

I sidestep. Effortlessly.

The creature's claws rake against the moss-covered stones, shrieking as they hit nothing but air. It stumbles, catches itself, then jerks back like it can't quite believe it missed.

For the first time, I see something new in its burning eyes. Not just rage. Not just hate. But something smaller. Something quieter. Doubt.

It tries to smother it, snarling louder, standing taller, but I can see the cracks forming. This isn't a fight—it's a show. A desperate, clumsy performance to maintain its illusion of power. But I don't need brute force to win. I don't need to tear it apart.

I just need to break the illusion.

The forest is silent. Watching. Waiting.

Wonderland's fate won't be decided by strength. It never was.

This is a different kind of battle.

And I'm about to end it.