The Obsidian Covenant #1: The Rejected Mate's Ruin のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 61 - チャプター 70

POV: NeomaThe dust of the arena hadn't settled, but the line in the sand was already drawn.It was a physical barrier. Etched by the sheer force of Barzil’s landing and the terrifying weight of his command. On one side, five thousand enraged Lycan cadets.Their eyes bleeding red with the shift. Their instincts screaming that a predator was in their midst. On the other side, a single man in a torn dress uniform, and me.I stood behind Barzil. My hand still gripped the fabric of his jacket. The Void energy I had ripped from Jax crackled under my skin—a chaotic storm of stolen chemical fire. My veins pulsed black. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. I felt drunk. Dizzy. Terrified."Commander!" the Master at Arms shouted from the judges' platform. His voice trembled despite the amplification magic. "Step aside! That... thing... is a violation of the Natural Order! It drained a Highblood!""It defended itself," Barzil roared back. He didn't look at the judges. He kept his eyes on the mob. "Cadet Ja

POV: ViggoFour walls, four predators, and one girl.The equation was simple, but the chemistry was explosive.We had been locked in the Faculty Barracks for six days. The windows were sealed with blast shutters. The doors were magnetically locked from the outside.The only contact we had with the Academy was the daily delivery of nutrient packs through the pneumatic tube. Whoosh-thump.It smelled like a cage. Stale air. Recycled ozone. The musk of wolves pacing in tight circles.I paced the length of the common room. The rug was wearing thin under my claws. Click. Turn. Click. Turn. The sound was a metronome counting down to madness. My muscles twitched with unspent energy, a coil winding tighter and tighter in my chest.Wolfy was in the corner, dismantling a sensor array he had ripped out of the wall, muttering about signal degradation.Barzil was in his office, brooding over tactical maps of the Northern Borderlands, pretending we weren't prisoners. Guller was meditating, which jus

POV: BarzilChaos wasn't a pit. It was a ladder.And right now, someone was climbing it over the corpses of my cadets."Move!" I roared. Shoving Viggo toward the blast door of the barracks. "Wolfy, get the Asset to the center of the formation! Guller, watch our six!"The hallway beyond our quarters was no longer a corridor of learning. It was a throat choked with smoke. The emergency lights strobed in a nauseating rhythm of red and black. Illuminating the dust billowing from the cracked ceiling.BOOM.Another explosion rocked the floor. Closer this time. The shockwave rattled my teeth in their sockets. My ears popped painfully.We spilled out into the main concourse. It was a slaughterhouse.Cadets—children I had been lecturing on stance and discipline yesterday—were running blindly through the haze. Some were screaming. Others were silent. Clutching wounds that shouldn't exist in a school. Wet, sucking chest wounds. Limbs hanging by threads. The smell of copper was overpowering."To

POV: NeomaI knew that stance. I knew it before I had a name, before I knew what a name was.I knew the way his left shoulder dipped slightly lower than his right, a legacy of carrying me through the flooded tunnels when I was too small to walk. I knew the way he stood with his weight on the balls of his feet, ready to run or fight in the span of a heartbeat.The figure on the statue leaped down. He landed in the burning grass with a grace that wasn't Lycan-enhanced, but Dregs-honed.Thump.He straightened up. Dusting ash from his long leather coat.The rebels surrounding us lowered their weapons instantly. They looked at him not with fear, but with a fanatical devotion that chilled my blood. It felt like walking into a freezer."Stand down," the figure commanded. His voice, stripped of the amplification magic, was rough. Familiar.He walked toward me. The firelight danced on his white porcelain mask, illuminating the jagged red smile painted across it. He stopped three feet away—clos

POV: WolfyVariables shifted. The asset was compromised.I crouched behind a crumbled section of the fountain. My sniper rifle was useless in my hands—a stick of metal. The geometry of the kill box was absolute. Twelve snipers on the high ground. Three exposed targets on the low ground. And one variable standing in the middle, painting a target on her own heart.I looked at the man on the statue base.The facial structure was a 94% match. The violet eyes. The silver-blonde hair.Kaine Solstice. The brother.The file I had built on him was thin—a few arrest records for petty theft in the Dregs, a suspected link to the rail bombings. I had categorized him as a low-level agitator.I was wrong. He was a fanatic."He is willing to kill her," I murmured. The realization chilled me more than my own cryokinesis. A shard of ice in my gut. "Emotional leverage has inverted. He does not view her as a sister to be saved. He views her as a possession to be reclaimed."Barzil stood ten feet to my le