Out of nowhere, the wind howled with unnatural speed. A blur of spotted fur—so fast it was nearly imperceptible—unched itself at Rynn.
The impact was violent.
Rynn’s body was wrenched from the ground as a cheetahkin smmed into him at full velocity, cws shredding through his uniform, embedding into flesh. They shot forward like a comet, the sheer friction against the asphalt igniting the torn fabric. Fmes roared to life, licking up Rynn’s arms and legs, the heat distorting the air around him.
Yet, despite the devastating assault, Rynn was ughing.
"Oh—a bit hasty, aren't we? At least take me to dinner first!" he cackled, seemingly enjoying the wild ride as if it were some thrilling amusement.
The ground blurred beneath them. The academy courtyard turned into a distorted smear of stone and sky. Then—
Boom.
Rynn smmed his fist into the pavement. The sheer force ruptured the earth, causing an explosion of rock and debris. The impact stole the catkin’s momentum, sending them both into a spiraling, uncontrolble crash.
The attacker twisted mid-air, his instincts razor-sharp. He nded on all fours, crouched, green eyes gleaming with raw hostility. His fur bristled, crackling with electricity as he activated his Thunder body ability. Sparks danced across his body, his breath coming in slow, measured exhales.
Rynn, meanwhile, adjusted his scorched uniform with exaggerated nonchance, dusting ash from his sleeves. His sapphire eyes flickered with something unreadable.
"Really now—ambushing me? On school grounds? Tsk, tsk. I adore the effort, but your execution? Abysmal."
The catkin vanished.
A sonic boom cracked the air as he reappeared behind Rynn, electricity surging in his hands. With a snarl, he unleashed the stored energy, a concentrated bst aimed directly at Rynn’s spine.
But Rynn had already moved.
His scionic aura fred. The air around his hands shimmered as his signature Moonfang Cws—jagged, obsidian talons wreathed in dark energy—manifested in a crackling hum. Without turning, he swung his arm backward in a wide, fluid arc. The cws ripped through the incoming lightning, shattering the raw energy into harmless sparks that scattered like dying fireflies.
"Predictable."
The catkin clicked his tongue and attempted another teleport—this time erratic, zigzagging through space to outmaneuver Rynn’s reflexes. But Rynn had seen it already. His predatory senses and scionic precognition painted the catkin’s trajectory before he even finished materializing.
Wrong move.
Before the teleportation could complete, Rynn intercepted—his hand shooting forward like a striking viper. His fingers cmped around the cheetah kin’s throat, halting the movement in a heartbeat. Gravity snapped them back to the earth, the force of their collision splitting the pavement. A crater formed beneath them, dust billowing into the air.
The catkin gasped, cwing at Rynn’s iron grip, his body still crackling with dissipating electricity. But it was over.
A flicker of realization bloomed in Rynn’s mind. He knew this face.
Memories not his own whispered through his consciousness. A past he had never cared to know unfolded—one etched in bloodlines and whispered court plots.
Family.
His mother’s brother. His uncle.
Sent to kill him.
Ah.
Rynn’s lips curled into something between amusement and irritation. "Hunting me down, dearest uncle? How sentimental of you." He tightened his grip, savoring the sharp hitch in his uncle’s breath. "Let me guess—some royal decree? A little whisper in the wind? Oh wait, I must be the problem, right?" His grin widened, eyes darkening with wicked mirth. "Pity."
The cheetah kin tried to speak—tried to struggle—but Rynn had already made up his mind.
Crack.
The body slumped.
A whimpering breeze passed through the courtyard, carrying the scent of smoldering fabric and fresh blood.
Without hesitation, Rynn released the corpse and ripped through his uncle’s ribcage. The scent of raw flesh filled the air as he pulled out the still-warm heart. He didn’t pause—didn’t hesitate—as he sank his fangs into the quivering muscle.
Blood—hot and rich—dribbled down his chin.
He ate in silence.
By the time Mira and B.M.A. arrived, the scene was already a masterpiece of carnage.
Mira, dressed in her usual casual elegance, took in the sight with a tilted head, her expression unreadable. A single finger tapped against her chin, assessing. "Hmm. You could have made it more dramatic," she mused. "Maybe held a speech first? Something poetic, full of vengeance and angst. Really tug at the heartstrings."
B.M.A., standing at her side, watched with cold detachment. "Was this necessary?" she asked simply.
Rynn exhaled, running a bloodstained hand through his soot-dark curls. "I was thinking of making a bigger show of it, but—" He gestured vaguely at the ruined remains of his uniform, charred and shredded beyond recognition. "—someone rudely interrupted my schedule. And look at me now! Absolutely tragic."
Mira's lips quirked. "Feral suits you, dear."
Rynn wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing crimson across his cheek. His sapphire eyes gleamed with wild amusement as he gnced down at his ruined attire. Then, in his usual fmboyant flourish, he extended both arms outward and decred,
"I do look extra fuzzy, don't I? Perhaps it's time I acquire some more furless attire."
B.M.A., still void of emotion, simply nodded. "Affirmative."
Mira cpped her hands together. "Shopping trip, then!"
And with that, Rynn turned on his heel, not sparing the corpse another gnce. The
past had already been devoured.
The future? Well…
Time to visit his grandparents.
---
Out of nowhere, the wind howled with unnatural speed. A blur of spotted fur—so fast it was nearly imperceptible—unched itself at Rynn.
The impact was violent.
Rynn’s body was wrenched from the ground as a cheetahkin smmed into him at full velocity, cws shredding through his uniform, embedding into flesh. They shot forward like a comet, the sheer friction against the asphalt igniting the torn fabric. Fmes roared to life, licking up Rynn’s arms and legs, the heat distorting the air around him.
Yet, despite the devastating assault, Rynn was ughing.
"Oh—a bit hasty, aren't we? At least take me to dinner first!" he cackled, seemingly enjoying the wild ride as if it were some thrilling amusement.
The ground blurred beneath them. The academy courtyard turned into a distorted smear of stone and sky. Then—
Boom.
Rynn smmed his fist into the pavement. The sheer force ruptured the earth, causing an explosion of rock and debris. The impact stole the catkin’s momentum, sending them both into a spiraling, uncontrolble crash.
The attacker twisted mid-air, his instincts razor-sharp. He nded on all fours, crouched, green eyes gleaming with raw hostility. His fur bristled, crackling with electricity as he activated his Thunder body ability. Sparks danced across his body, his breath coming in slow, measured exhales.
Rynn, meanwhile, adjusted his scorched uniform with exaggerated nonchance, dusting ash from his sleeves. His sapphire eyes flickered with something unreadable.
"Really now—ambushing me? On school grounds? Tsk, tsk. I adore the effort, but your execution? Abysmal."
The catkin vanished.
A sonic boom cracked the air as he reappeared behind Rynn, electricity surging in his hands. With a snarl, he unleashed the stored energy, a concentrated bst aimed directly at Rynn’s spine.
But Rynn had already moved.
His scionic aura fred. The air around his hands shimmered as his signature Moonfang Cws—jagged, obsidian talons wreathed in dark energy—manifested in a crackling hum. Without turning, he swung his arm backward in a wide, fluid arc. The cws ripped through the incoming lightning, shattering the raw energy into harmless sparks that scattered like dying fireflies.
"Predictable."
The catkin clicked his tongue and attempted another teleport—this time erratic, zigzagging through space to outmaneuver Rynn’s reflexes. But Rynn had seen it already. His predatory senses and scionic precognition painted the catkin’s trajectory before he even finished materializing.
Wrong move.
Before the teleportation could complete, Rynn intercepted—his hand shooting forward like a striking viper. His fingers cmped around the cheetah kin’s throat, halting the movement in a heartbeat. Gravity snapped them back to the earth, the force of their collision splitting the pavement. A crater formed beneath them, dust billowing into the air.
The catkin gasped, cwing at Rynn’s iron grip, his body still crackling with dissipating electricity. But it was over.
A flicker of realization bloomed in Rynn’s mind. He knew this face.
Memories not his own whispered through his consciousness. A past he had never cared to know unfolded—one etched in bloodlines and whispered court plots.
Family.
His mother’s brother. His uncle.
Sent to kill him.
Ah.
Rynn’s lips curled into something between amusement and irritation. "Hunting me down, dearest uncle? How sentimental of you." He tightened his grip, savoring the sharp hitch in his uncle’s breath. "Let me guess—some royal decree? A little whisper in the wind? Oh wait, I must be the problem, right?" His grin widened, eyes darkening with wicked mirth. "Pity."
The cheetah kin tried to speak—tried to struggle—but Rynn had already made up his mind.
Crack.
The body slumped.
A whimpering breeze passed through the courtyard, carrying the scent of smoldering fabric and fresh blood.
Without hesitation, Rynn released the corpse and ripped through his uncle’s ribcage. The scent of raw flesh filled the air as he pulled out the still-warm heart. He didn’t pause—didn’t hesitate—as he sank his fangs into the quivering muscle.
Blood—hot and rich—dribbled down his chin.
He ate in silence.
By the time Mira and B.M.A. arrived, the scene was already a masterpiece of carnage.
Mira, dressed in her usual casual elegance, took in the sight with a tilted head, her expression unreadable. A single finger tapped against her chin, assessing. "Hmm. You could have made it more dramatic," she mused. "Maybe held a speech first? Something poetic, full of vengeance and angst. Really tug at the heartstrings."
B.M.A., standing at her side, watched with cold detachment. "Was this necessary?" she asked simply.
Rynn exhaled, running a bloodstained hand through his soot-dark curls. "I was thinking of making a bigger show of it, but—" He gestured vaguely at the ruined remains of his uniform, charred and shredded beyond recognition. "—someone rudely interrupted my schedule. And look at me now! Absolutely tragic."
Mira's lips quirked. "Feral suits you, dear."
Rynn wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing crimson across his cheek. His sapphire eyes gleamed with wild amusement as he gnced down at his ruined attire. Then, in his usual fmboyant flourish, he extended both arms outward and decred,
"I do look extra fuzzy, don't I? Perhaps it's time I acquire some more furless attire."
B.M.A., still void of emotion, simply nodded. "Affirmative."
Mira cpped her hands together. "Shopping trip, then!"
And with that, Rynn turned on his heel, not sparing the corpse another gnce. The past had already been devoured.
The future? Well…
Time to visit his grandparents.
---
Ebonvale’s most opulent district glittered under the warm glow of its arcane streetlights. Cobblestones lined the streets in elegant symmetry, reflecting the soft amber hues of the enchanted nterns above. It was here, in the heart of indulgence and prestige, that Velvet Threads Atelier stood—a towering boutique that whispered wealth and power with every curve of its artful architecture. The gilded window dispys showcased garments that shimmered with enchantments, each piece seeming to hold a story of its own.
The shop’s opulence was matched only by the sheer absurdity of the scene outside. Rynn Yogini, bloody and disheveled, stood on the boutique’s polished steps. His sapphire eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief despite his ruined, tattered school uniform, now far removed from its pristine state. His **jet-bck curls**, streaked with soot and stray fragments of earth, only added to his roguish appearance.
By his side was Battle Maid Aria B.M.A., her stark white fur and flowing white hair bathed in the glow of the boutique’s nterns. Her crimson eyes surveyed the area coldly, her bck maid uniform tailored for combat yet undeniably striking. Completing the trio was Mira Dusktail, her vibrant auburn fur and pyful amber eyes creating an arresting contrast to the somber backdrop of the evening. Passersby stared openly, whispers trailing in their wake.
Rynn tilted his head slightly, his sheepkin ears flicking as he took in the gawking crowd. “This city really needs a hobby,” he muttered to himself before pushing through the atelier doors.
---
The interior of the Velvet Threads Atelier was a world unto itself. Chandeliers of enchanted crystal cast prismatic light across the polished marble floors. Racks of suits and gowns—woven from fabrics imbued with subtle magical glows—lined the walls, each piece speaking of exclusivity and power. The faint scent of vender and ink lingered in the air, an intoxicating blend of luxury and creation.
An impeccably dressed attendant greeted Rynn and his entourage with a practiced smile that wavered only slightly as her gaze flicked over his disheveled state. “Welcome to Velvet Threads Atelier, Master Yogini,” she said smoothly. “It’s an honor.”
Rynn smirked, brushing off his charred pel. “Let’s make this quick. My usual style, enchanted for durability.” He gnced down at his scorched sleeve and added with a grin, “Let’s make it fme-resistant this time, shall we?”
The attendant nodded, her hands already moving with mechanical precision as she summoned swathes of fabric to hover nearby. Within moments, she presented a selection of sharp, tailored coats and trousers—each piece rich in detail, subtle enchantments humming within the seams.
Mira wandered off to admire the more extravagant dispys, her fox-like ears flicking with delight. “Rynn, look at this one!” she called, holding up a crimson vest embroidered with gold. “You’d look like a proper tyrant in this.”
Rynn waved a hand dismissively. “Too much gold. I’m aiming for intimidating, not ostentatious.”
Eventually, Rynn’s ensemble was complete—a midnight-bck coat with faintly glowing silver runes etched along the cuffs, paired with tailored trousers and a dark silk shirt. The outfit carried an air of understated power, a statement that needed no expnation.
Rynn handed the attendant a bck Syndicate Guild credit stone to pay. Mira, ever eager, pulled out her phone. “Let me call my dad. Kale’s jet is the fastest way to Meowdon.”
---
It didn’t take much convincing. Kale Dusktail, head of the Syndicate Guild, was always ready to accommodate his daughter’s whims—especially when they aligned with one of Rynn’s more ambitious pns. The private jet arrived at Ebonvale’s airstrip within the hour, its sleek frame gleaming against the twilight sky.
The flight to Meowdon took four hours. The jet was an opulent masterpiece, every surface gilded or upholstered in the finest materials. Mira sprawled across a plush sofa, recounting her own exaggerated version of Rynn’s recent battles, while B.M.A. sat silently, her crimson gaze fixed on the horizon.
Upon nding, a bck convoy awaited them. The drive to the Catkin Royal Pace took another two hours, winding through dense forests and rolling hills until the grand silhouette of the pace loomed ahead.
---
The pace was a fortress of stone and gold, its towering spires etched with ancient glyphs of protection. Soldiers stood at attention as Rynn and his entourage approached, their eyes lingering on the infamous heir.
Rynn had expected the audience to be a drawn-out affair, filled with formalities and red tape. But the doors to the throne room opened almost immediately—evidence, no doubt, of the pace’s own motives. After all, the Syndicate Guild had been commissioned to bring Rynn back, dead or alive.
The throne room was vast, its vaulted ceilings adorned with murals depicting the history of Meowdon. At its center sat the Catkin Emperor, a graying Lionkin whose hulking frame spoke of a warrior’s past. His piercing green eyes followed Rynn’s every movement.
Rynn strolled forward with all the swagger he could muster, his sheepkin ears flicking zily. He stopped at the base of the throne, tilting his head slightly. “What do you want, old man? I’m very busy—killing paranoid uncles and dressing up battle maids is no small task.”
The emperor let out a heavy sigh, his gaze darkening. “Thadeus has truly been sin, then?”
Rynn smirked. “Sin and... devoured,” he said, his tone almost casual. “Paranoia doesn’t taste half bad.”
The emperor’s eyes widened briefly. “Gnaw kin craze?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.
Rynn ughed softly, shaking his head. “Hardly. It was more... theatrical. A staged message. But yes, he’s gone. So what do you want?”
The emperor’s composure cracked for a moment, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Swayg...” he began, his tone wistful. “She fled Meowdon with a nobody one day, vanishing without warning. We ter learned she was hiding from an assassination attempt—one rumored to be Thadious’s doing. I disinherited her, but not you, Rynn. You are still the heir. The throne is yours.”
Rynn arched a brow, his smirk growing wider. “What’s the catch?”
The emperor coughed lightly, gncing away. “You must live in the royal pace, learn what it means to be an emperor.”
Rynn tilted his head back, letting out a low, mocking ugh. “You think too small, old man. Why settle for the Catkin country when I can rule the entirety of Yami?”
The emperor’s mouth opened as if to respond, but no words came. Rynn gestured for his entourage to follow, his dark coat sweeping dramatically behind him.
“Come on,” he said over his shoulder. “We’ve wasted enough time here.”
The emperor remained seated, his expression frozen in stunned silence as Rynn strode out of the throne room, leaving nothing but echoes and an air of undeniable resolve.
---
