Barrett took a few slow steps toward the spider, boots crunching against scorched earth and shattered stone. Above him, Grimm circled in wide, measured arcs, wings cutting silently through the smoke like a living surveillance drone.

  “This isn’t cool, Rebby,” Barrett said quietly. There was no bravado in his voice now, just disappointment.

  The massive spider shuddered.

  Its chitin rippled, folding inward as if the creature were collapsing into itself. Legs retracted. Mandibles dissolved into pale skin. In a matter of heartbeats, the monster was gone, replaced by the form he knew all too well.

  She stood there trembling—small, pale, long black hair streaked with red spilling down her back. Her eyes were wet with emotion, burning with something that looked dangerously close to rage.

  Gasps rippled through the villagers.

  “Demon!” someone cried.

  “Witch—!”

  The accusations flew like stones, but Rebby didn’t even flinch. Her attention never left Barrett. Surprise flickered across her face, raw and unguarded, as if the world had tilted beneath her feet.

  “How did you—” Rebby began, disbelief choking her voice.

  Barrett closed the distance until only a step separated them. He looked down at her with his familiar crooked grin.

  “Whatever that little cocktail was you dosed me with,” he said, voice low, almost amused, “it had some real kick.” His tone darkened, heat slipping beneath the humor. “Too bad for you…Barrett Donovan’s always had a taste for things that burn.”

  Her eyes flicked down, then away. He could see the fear there now—sharp, calculating. She knew. She had to. If she understood even half of what her venom had done to him, she’d be terrified too.

  “…Are you here to kill me?” she whispered.

  Barrett didn’t answer right away.

  Locked into [Deadeye Domain], he saw everything through Grimm’s eyes, through angles no human should have. The spiders had halted their advance. Rei and Pippy were being dragged back behind the first wall. Granny was already moving toward Maku, cautious but determined.

  Barrett exhaled through his teeth.

  “Dammit, Rebby,” he said softly, frustration bleeding through. “This is really not okay.” He paused, then added, “But I don’t want to kill you.”

  Her head snapped up, eyes wide.

  “Just let us go,” he said, voice steady despite everything. “Let the villagers leave. Hell—” a crooked smirk crept in before he could stop it, “—you could even come with us. There’s room on Team Donovan.” He paused, then added, quieter but no less certain, “Especially for my girlfriend.”

  Behind him, Granny gasped.

  “Barrett…what are you saying?” she blurted.

  “It’s complicated!” he called back without turning. “Love’s messy, apparently.” A humorless chuckle slipped out. “I’m still figuring it out myself.”

  Rebby stared at him as if he’d broken some fundamental rule of reality.

  For a long moment, she didn’t speak.

  Then her shoulders sagged.

  “I can’t,” she said at last, her voice cracking.

  Barrett blinked. “You can. Just…forget all this nonsense. Let the past go.”

  She laughed—short and bitter

  “Oh really?” Her gaze locked onto his. “Like you let your past go?”

  His jaw tightened.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I’m a hell of a hypocrite. But you don’t have to erase it. Just—” he swallowed, forcing the words out, “—choose me. Choose us.”

  “Why won’t you choose me, Barrett?” she screamed.

  The sound tore through the clearing.

  “Forget about them!” she shouted, voice breaking. “We only need each other!”

  Barrett looked past her.

  Maku lay barely breathing as Granny worked frantically. Pippy was still unconscious. Rei leaned against the wall, bloodied but standing.

  His hands curled into fists.

  “You expect me to abandon Team Donovan?” he snapped. “After everything?”

  Her fury sharpened. “So you’re choosing them over me?” she hissed. “After I saved your life? After I made you stronger than you ever were?”

  “You’re the one who put us in danger to begin with!” Barrett shot back.

  Her face went cold.

  “Fine,” she said, backing away. “You’re just like the rest.”

  “Wait—Rebby, let’s just talk—!”

  Too late.

  Her body twisted, bones snapping and stretching as she transformed again, flesh giving way to chitin.

  Barrett’s jaw set.

  She lunged—not at him, but past him.

  Straight for Granny and Maku.

  Barrett moved.

  [Deadeye Domain] revealed her intent a full second before the attack. He crossed the distance in a blur, slamming the flat of his machete into her charge and forcing her back.

  “I can’t let you do that,” he growled, muscles straining as he shoved her away.

  She shrieked and leapt back.

  Barrett stepped forward, his spiderweave coat catching the dying firelight, threads gleaming black and red as they shifted with his movement.

  “Damn it, Rebby!” He dropped into a stance, breath shaking despite himself. “Enough already! I don’t want to hurt you—why won’t you stop?”

  Her minions swarmed.

  Barrett carved through them like they weren’t even there—slash after slash, fluid and precise.

  “I’m getting real tired of these trash mobs,” he muttered, advancing.

  Rebby screeched and launched herself skyward, crashing down toward him.

  [Iron Reflex] detonated in his senses.

  He dodged cleanly, pivoted, and kicked—hard.

  Bone shattered. One of her massive legs collapsed under the impact.

  Barrett surged forward, attacks raining down in a relentless storm—machete, fists, knees—never letting her breathe.

  “Barrett!” Granny shouted. “Go for the cephalothorax!”

  He huffed, the sound empty of humor.

  Like hell he would.

  He didn’t need a weak spot. She was his weakness, and he owed her more than a coward’s victory.

  Rebby staggered back, panic breaking through her fury. At her silent command, the remaining spiders surged toward her, and to Barrett’s mounting horror, she turned on them instead.

  One by one, she seized her own minions, mandibles tearing through chitin and flesh alike. The sound was wet and sickening. Power rippled outward with every bite, her body warping and expanding as stolen vitality flooded into her.

  Legs thickened. Her frame stretched skyward. The ground groaned beneath her weight as she grew—towering higher and higher—until she loomed over the battlefield like a living nightmare.

  Three stories tall.

  Reforged and Renewed.

  Behind him, the villagers fled. Rei helped drag Maku’s unconscious body to safety. Pippy was carried with them.

  “You can leave the rest to me, Granny,” Barrett called without turning.

  “We’re not leaving you!” she shouted back.

  Barrett smirked.

  Good. Damn good friends.

  He looked out across the field, meeting the monster’s gaze. Those vast, hateful eyes locked onto him, burning with something feral and broken. He wondered how much of the woman he’d loved was still buried somewhere inside that thing. The thought hit harder than any blow. He blinked, forcing back the sting of tears.

  For a heartbeat, he almost turned away.

  His chest ached, raw emotion flooding him despite every instinct to suppress it. He had come so close—closer than he ever thought he would—to something real. To warmth. To being chosen. And now it had slipped through his fingers like smoke. The old certainty crept back in, familiar and cruel.

  I’ll be alone again.

  There was never any love meant for me.

  Chirp.

  The sound cut cleanly through the spiral.

  He heard it as clearly as if Grimm were perched on his shoulder, small claws gripping tight. Just a single chirp, but it carried everything he needed to hear. He wasn’t alone. He had never truly been alone.

  He and the little guy were bonded for life. Not by circumstance or convenience, but by something deeper—something chosen. They needed each other. The realization settled heavily in his chest, and with it came a sharp stab of shame. How could he have dismissed the closest ally he had? The one who had never doubted him, never asked for anything in return. Someone who felt less like a companion and more like a child he was meant to protect.

  He hated that pattern in himself. Always chasing the affection of those who couldn’t—or wouldn’t—love him back, while overlooking the love that was offered freely, honestly, without conditions. Love that didn’t need to be earned.

  Yeah, he thought bitterly.

  I really am an idiot.

  He drew in a slow, deliberate breath, steadying himself for the tragedy he was about to unleash.

  “Blood Oath,” he said, voice low and reverent. The words struck the air like a vow carved in stone.

  A crooked grin touched his lips.

  “Stage One.”

  The world seemed to answer.

  Crimson light seeped from his skin, bleeding into the air like heat haze, thick and oppressive. The ground beneath his boots began to vibrate as invisible pressure coiled around him, tightening, compressing, alive. Pebbles rattled, then lifted, hovering for a heartbeat before skittering away in panic.

  His pulse thundered in his ears, steady at first, then violently. Power surged through his veins like wildfire. Electricity trickled around in him in brief spurts.

  Rebby froze.

  For just a moment, he thought he smelled fear.