The air inside the sanctuary turned razor-sharp.
The orc from the Light Order—massive, bloated with divine arrogance—yanked the cow-woman by her hair, dragging her across the polished stone floor. "I was anointed to feed. This is my right."
The cow-woman whimpered, struggling, her silken top torn halfway down her chest. Renji started forward, fury boiling—but Myzari held him back, her eyes locked on something behind the orc.
Zach.
He was no longer smiling.
The laid-back, lazy smirk that usually painted his face had vanished. In its place was something colder. Older. His silver hair shimmered with divine static, and his eyes—normally sleepy—now blazed with something terrible and ancient.
He stepped into the courtyard, hands loose at his sides. "You just made three mistakes," he said.
The orc sneered. "Who the fuck are you supposed to be?"
Zach kept walking. "One—you broke the Treaty. Two—you laid hands on a sacred woman. And three…"
He vanished.
In the blink of a heartbeat, Zach was gone from where he stood—then behind the orc, his hand buried deep in the fat bastard's spine, right where the divine core pulsed.
"…You did it in front of me."
The orc didn't even scream. His mouth opened in a silent gasp as Zach ripped the divine core from his back—pure white light spurting like blood—then crushed it in his fist.
A shockwave tore through the sanctuary.
The orc's body convulsed and exploded, reduced to ash and holy dust in an instant. The cow-woman collapsed, sobbing, caught by Myzari before she could fall.
Renji stood frozen.
Zach turned, face blank. "This is your first lesson, kid," he muttered. "Power doesn't come from mercy."
He looked at his bloodstained hand.
"It comes from knowing exactly when not to show it."
Ash rained across the valley like snow.
Zach stood still, hand still glowing from the orc's divine essence. Silence clung to the sanctuary—until the skies cracked open.
Holy light poured down like wrath.
Dozens of teleportation sigils ignited in the sky above the Bonecrag Peaks. Out of them marched legions—white-clad paladins in radiant armor, banners of the Light Order fluttering, wings of divine energy flaring behind their commanders. Seraphs, war clerics, and crusaders all descended in perfect formation.
Renji blinked. "That's a whole damn war front."
"They want revenge," Myzari said coldly. "You don't kill a High Anointed and expect silence."
Zach just flexed his hand, sighing like he was bored.
"Bout time I stretched."
He leapt.
What followed was a massacre.
Zach tore through the army like death made flesh. His body shimmered in and out of existence—one moment above, the next behind, ripping through divine armor like wet paper. He shattered weapons mid-swing, ripped wings from angels, and sent holy men crashing into stone walls, lifeless. Their screams filled the valley, mixed with the hum of Zach's blade and the crackle of raw energy.
Renji stood frozen—until a stray seraph dove at him, blade glowing.
He barely dodged, crashing into the side of a pillar, ribs cracking again.
He gasped, blood in his mouth.
Then he saw her.
His mother.
Not in a dream this time—but in the blur of pain and memory. She stood in a field of red flowers, reaching for him with sad eyes.
"Renji," her voice whispered. "You were never meant to awaken it this way…"
A flash of silver shimmered before him.
A pendant—one he hadn't seen since childhood—appeared in his lap, glowing faintly. His father's. The one his mother always kept hidden. The one that burned her hand when Renji tried to hold it years ago.
Now it pulsed like a heartbeat.
Renji touched it—
And the world changed.
The pendant pulsed in his hand, each throb syncing with his heart.
Then—darkness.
Renji collapsed like a puppet with cut strings, eyes rolling back, the divine battlefield fading into a murmur of screams and lightning. The last thing he heard was Zach's voice shouting something—distant, distorted—before the void swallowed him whole.
—
Light returned slowly.
Not bright. Not harsh. But warm.
Renji's eyes fluttered open, his body cocooned in softness. Silk sheets. Scented oils. A divine stillness, as though time had slowed around him. His mind still spun, but the pain… it was gone.
"Welcome back," came a soft, soothing voice.
Nayya.
She was seated beside him on the bed, her lacy shawl clinging to her curves, her hair loose and flowing like chocolate waves. One of her hands gently rested on his chest, while the other held a warm cloth she'd been using to dab his forehead.
"You were out for two days," she said softly. "Zach returned… soaked in blood, muttering about how you 'never listen'."
Renji groaned. "Sounds like him…"
"You scared us," Nayya murmured. Her fingers brushed his cheek, tender and unafraid. "You held something ancient. Something heavy. Your soul is stirring."
He looked at her, truly looked. The worry in her golden eyes. The way her breasts softly pressed against her arms as she leaned closer. The way her thighs curled beneath her like she'd been at his side the entire time.
"…I'm sorry," he whispered.
"For what?" she asked.
"For making you worry. For making everyone—"
She leaned in. Her breath was sweet and warm.
"You're alive, Renji. That's all that matters."
Her lips didn't touch his yet—but hovered, temptingly, as her body leaned into his, soft and overwhelming.
And thus began the slow burn.
The rise of warmth.
The call… of the milk.