Page 34 of The Oni's Heart

I saw red.

Every breath felt was fire in my lungs, and all I could think about was destroying them. Protecting her wasn’t enough. Ineeded to hurt them. I needed to make them feel every ounce of pain they had inflicted on her.

I was no longer thinking. I was moving on pure instinct.

I didn’t even hear the words they shouted at me as I rushed toward them. The man with the crowbar swung at me first, but I was already on him. My fist connected with his jaw, sending him stumbling backward. The crack of bone under my knuckles was satisfying, but it only fueled the fire inside me.

The man with the knife lunged at me, but I grabbed his arm, twisting it with a sickening crack. The knife clattered to the ground, but I didn’t stop. I threw him to the ground, kneeing him in the stomach before turning my attention back to the first man.

I was already moving before my brain could catch up to my instincts. Every inch of me screamed at me to turn around, to walk away, to keep my vows of peace. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t stand there and watch them threaten her.

My fist connected with a jaw with a sickening crack, and I felt the rush of satisfaction, the heat in my chest burning hotter, fiercer. But it wasn’t enough. Not by a long shot.

None of it was meant to be this way. I wasn’t supposed toenjoythis, but when his body staggered back, and his breath hitched as he tried to recover—it feltrightin a way I couldn’t understand.

I turned toward the second man, who had rushed to close the gap. He swung a crude punch, but I ducked, spinning around and landing an elbow to his ribs. I heard him grunt in pain, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. They weren’t backing down.

And neither was I.

I wasn’t even trying to protect her anymore. It wasn’t about her anymore.

It was about me.

The next few moments blurred into a haze of violence. My body was moving without thinking, my hands striking, my fists landing with bone-crushing force. I didn’t hear their screams. Didn’t hear their pleas. All I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears, the thrum of fury that surged through me. I wasn’t thinking about anything. I was consumed by the rage.

I heard the crunch of bone, the wet slap of flesh hitting the concrete, the sound of their broken bodies hitting the ground. It was primal, savage, and I didn’t care. I wanted to hear it. I needed to hear it.

My hands were covered in blood. My robes were soaked with it. It was everywhere. The men’s bodies were barely recognizable as they lay in pieces on the ground. I had destroyed them. Crushed them. The rage had taken over completely.

I stood over them, chest heaving, hands still clenched in fists, blood dripping from my fingers. I didn’t know how long I had been standing there, but when I looked down at the bodies, I couldn’t even recognize what I had done.

And then it hit me.

I looked down at my hands, covered in blood. The red liquid was smeared across my skin, dripping down my wrists. I wiped my hands against my robes, but the blood wouldn’t come off.

But that wasn’t what made my breath hitch in my chest.

It was the feeling. The power coursing through me.

I lifted my hands to my face, trembling, as I felt the heat radiating off my skin. My fingers felt longer, thicker. My nails sharpened into claws. The veins beneath my skin were swollen, dark, pulsing. The very air around me seemed to crackle with the power I could feel surging inside me.

I stepped back, and that’s when I saw it.

The reflection in a broken piece of glass on the ground.

It wasn’t me.

It was something else.

The face staring back at me was distorted, monstrous. My eyes—no longer just human—glowed with an unnatural intensity, the pupils elongated into slits. My skin had a dark, unnatural tint that reflected my insides. I was something that no longer belonged in the world of men.

I stood there, my fists still clenched, my body trembling with the aftermath of what I had just done. The rage inside me hadn’t gone away. It wasn’tgone. It was still there, still gnawing at me, still hungry for more.

And the worst part was, I didn’t know how to stop it.

I wasn’t supposed to be this man.

I wasn’t supposed to be the one who threw punches.

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