Chapter 10 – The Beast Within

The rain had slowed to a fine mist, clinging to the rusted pipes and broken glass in the alley like the aftermath of something unspeakable. The blood was gone now – washed into the gutters but the weight in the air hadn’t lifted. It lingered in every breath.

Victor stood with his back to the others, shirtless, his skin streaked with dried sweat and flecks of soot. His fists were clenched. Muscles tensed like coiled wire. He hadn’t spoken since Dan woke up glowing.

Max watched him in silence. The flickering gold beneath his own skin had settled, smouldering low and steady like a fire banked for the night. Nearby, Dan leaned against the wall, arms crossed, the faint golden aura still clinging to him like the last warmth of a fading sun.

Victor finally spoke, voice low.

“You both changed,” he said. “Just like that.”

Max didn’t answer right away. He stepped forward, careful. “Dan nearly died. I didn’t have a choice.”

Victor turned, his lion-gold eyes sharp beneath his furrowed brow. “And me? What happens if I don’t nearly die? Do I just wait until something rips me in half before you do it?”

Max frowned. “You want it now?”

“I want to be ready,” Victor snapped. “I’ve been watching this shit from the sidelines too long. Helping you. Helping her.” His voice dipped slightly at the mention of Liz. “I carried weapons while you carried fire.”

Dan pushed off the wall, his voice calm but firm. “You don’t have to do this. Just because we did—”

“I do have to,” Victor interrupted, glaring. “Because I won’t be the one who gets dragged screaming behind you two while the world ends. I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not,” Max said quietly.

Victor stepped closer. “Then let me prove it.”

Silence.

Max searched his friend’s face – looking for doubt, fear, hesitation. There was none. Only that same stoic fire Victor always carried. The kind of steel you only got from burying friends and surviving long winters.

“Fine,” Max said, his voice soft.

Victor took a breath.

“Fine,” he echoed. “I’m in.”

Max blinked. “You sure?”

“No.” Victor gave a crooked smile. “But you need soldiers. Not medics.”

He stepped forward and squared his broad shoulders, eyes level with Max’s.

“Whatever’s coming next? I want to face it standing beside you. Not dragging behind.”

Max reached out slowly, resting both hands on Victor’s shoulders. The contact sparked a flicker of gold across his fingertips.

“Alright,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

Dan took a step back, suddenly uneasy. “You might want to brace for—”

The fire bloomed.

Not like before.

This time, it erupted.

Golden flames leapt from Max’s hands, dancing across Victor’s skin like liquid lightning. His body seized. His eyes flew wide – burning gold, pupils shrinking to slits.

Then—

Victor screamed.

A sound tore out of his throat like it didn’t belong to a human at all – half-animal, half-agony. He staggered backward, crashing against the alley wall, his spine arching unnaturally.

“Victor!” Max shouted, stumbling forward, but the fire was already spreading – crawling across Victor’s chest, igniting something deep inside him.

His scream grew louder.

And the alley lit up like the gates of Hell had just opened.

…………………

Victor’s scream didn’t stop.

It changed.

It warped – deeper, guttural, distorted like it was being filtered through something older. Something not entirely human.

His legs buckled. He slammed to the ground on all fours, coughing, retching black bile onto the alley floor. His spine arched, vertebrae bulging unnaturally beneath his skin. A wet pop echoed as one shoulder dislocated itself – then snapped back into place with a crunch, now grotesquely wider.

Max stepped forward, hands up. “Victor – just breathe! Stay with me!”

But Victor couldn’t hear him. Or wouldn’t. His head jerked up and back like something inside was trying to crawl out through his skull.

Victor’s back arched – and then came the crack.

His jaw split at the hinge, bones tearing free with a wet, unnatural pop. Teeth lengthened – no, erupted – into curved, predatory fangs. His lips peeled back in a snarl that no longer belonged to a man.

His nose flattened. Cheekbones pushed forward. The bridge of his face stretched unnaturally. Then – tearing – his skin split at the temples, and thick tufts of dark hair forced their way out like something breathing beneath his skull.

Max took a step forward—

But then Victor screamed again.

This time, silver light burst from beneath his flesh — not Dan’s warm glow, but something wilder. Chaotic. It rippled through his veins like a caged storm.

Then came the bones.

His spine snapped, jerking backward. Legs elongated, joints distorting. His arms twisted at unnatural angles – tendons popping, skin tearing – as his fingers grew. Not longer – thicker, ending in brutal, hooked claws.

“Jesus,” Dan whispered. “It’s not stopping—”

Victor let out a sound that didn’t belong to Earth.

A roar – low, deep, ancient. It shook the alley walls. A nearby window exploded. Sirens in the distance cut off, like even they were afraid.

The sound exploded outward, slamming into the alley walls like a concussive wave. Windows shattered. A car alarm started howling half a block away.

Black veins spiderwebbed across Victor’s shoulders and chest, pulsing beneath the skin. Muscle tore free of its old shape and reformed – twitching, bulging, growing too fast for the body to adapt. His entire back hunched, vertebrae warping to support a growing mass of something more.

Then, with a sickening squelch, wings burst from his back.

Or something like wings.

They were malformed – half-formed appendages of bone and wet cartilage. One beat once, feebly, then folded back into his spine like a failed mutation. Flesh knitted shut behind it, but the imprint remained – a warning of what might come later.

Max caught a glimpse of something else – a ripple under the skin near Victor’s lower back. Like a second spine coiling beneath the surface. It twitched once, serpentine.

Then it was gone.

And above Victor’s brow, two hard knots began to press outward – tiny horns, barely visible under the skin, before sinking back like they’d changed their mind.

Max reached out again, only to recoil as Victor’s skin began to blacken. Not like it was dying but hardening. Toughening. The silver aura danced beneath it like cold lava under obsidian.

Victor collapsed again, slamming both fists into the pavement hard enough to crack the stone. His breath came in ragged, animal growls. His eyes snapped open—

And they were no longer human.

Feline slits in burning gold. Wild. Unfocused.

Predatory.

“Max,” Dan whispered. “He’s not in control.”

Max nodded grimly. “Yeah.”

Victor looked up, teeth bared in a feral snarl.

Then he lunged.

…………………

Victor’s claws tore into the alley floor as he lunged.

Max barely sidestepped the first swipe – sharp, brutal, wild. The claws carved a trench through the concrete where his head had just been. A half-second later and he would've been split open from skull to sternum.

Victor didn’t pause. He spun on all fours, faster than anything that size should be, and tackled Max into the opposite wall with a sound like a bomb going off.

Max slammed into the bricks. His ribs screamed. The air fled his lungs.

“Victor!” he choked out.

No response. No recognition.

Victor wasn’t there anymore.

What loomed above him wasn’t his oldest friend – it was a beast. Seven feet of snarling, golden-maned fury. The blackened skin that had started to creep across his arms had now fully enveloped him, glistening like obsidian armour. His face was warped – part man, mostly lion, with wicked fangs and a nose that twitched with animal rage. His mane bristled with raw energy, silver strands shifting like fire caught in a storm.

His muscles had swollen with unnatural density – too large for his frame, but somehow right. His arms ended in claws longer than Max’s fingers. His legs were bent backward, spring-loaded like a predator’s, built for pouncing, for killing.

And he was breathing like a furnace. Steam curled from his nose. His eyes locked onto Max’s – wild, flickering between awareness and instinct.

Victor raised a clawed hand.

Max caught it mid-swing but only barely.

The force drove him to one knee. He gritted his teeth, straining. Even with his own soul-forged strength, Max felt his bones begin to bend under the pressure.

“Victor, it’s me,” he growled. “It’s Max. You need to get a grip – now!”

Victor roared and threw a second punch with his free hand.

It landed.

Max’s head snapped to the side as the blow sent him sprawling. His vision blurred. Blood filled his mouth. He hit the ground hard, stars exploding across his vision.

Dan shouted something from the corner, but Max barely heard it over the ringing in his ears.

…Max looked up into his friend’s face.

Something writhed behind Victor – a flicker of movement. A long, dark shape trailing from his lower back. A tail? No, it couldn’t be. Max blinked, and it was gone.

And Victor’s breath – hot and ragged – smelled wrong. Not just animal. Like ash. Like smoke curling at the edge of something not yet born.

“You’re stronger,” Max gasped. “I get it. You win. Now wake the hell up.”

Victor’s jaws opened wide.

Saliva dripped onto Max’s face. His fangs gleamed inches from Max’s throat.

Max didn’t flinch.

“I’m not afraid of you,” he said quietly. “You’re not a monster. You’re Victor. You’ve pulled me out of worse. You’re better than this.”

Victor snarled, his grip trembling.

“Come back,” Max said, barely above a whisper. “Victor. Look at me. You’re not a monster. You’re not a weapon. You’re the one who carried me out of that burning house. Remember that?”

No response. Just snarling breath, hot against his throat.

“You stayed with Liz when I couldn’t. You searched for answers when I gave up. You never ran.”

The claws trembled.

“You don’t kill your friends,” Max said softly. “You save them.”

For a heartbeat, nothing changed. Then—

Victor’s snarl faltered.

His eyes – still slitted, still wild – flickered. Confusion. Pain.

A low, guttural growl rumbled from his chest… then broke into a shuddering cough.

“…You talk too much,” he rasped. The words were rough. Muddled. But human.

Max didn’t move. His breath caught.

Then Victor blinked – hard – like waking from a nightmare.

He jerked back, stumbling off Max, eyes wide with horror. “Shit. Did I—?”

“Almost,” Max said, sitting up. “You had me pinned. Claws out. Big scary lion snarl. Very convincing.”

Victor looked down at his trembling hands. His fingers were halfway back to human. “I couldn’t see. Everything was instinct. Rage. Hunger.”

“But you fought it,” Max said. “That’s what matters.”

Victor laughed weakly. “Guess I get a gold star for not disembowelling my best friend.”

Max chuckled. “We’ll pin it on your mane.”

Victor blinked hard. His claws pulled back – slowly, reluctantly – as he lifted himself off Max and staggered away.

His features shifted, the dark mane retracting slightly. His spine popped, muscles tightening, body shrinking back into something human. The claws retracted. The obsidian skin faded. His jaw clicked back into place with a wince.

Victor slumped against the wall, panting.

“Well,” he said, voice hoarse. “That was new.”

Max sat up, groaning. “You tried to kill me.”

Victor pointed weakly. “You dodged. Mostly.”

Dan approached, wide-eyed. “Are you okay? Both of you?”

Victor nodded, still breathing hard. “I think so.”

He looked down at his clawed hands, now halfway back to normal. They were still trembling.

“I didn’t mean to lose control.”

Max clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re still here. That’s what matters.”

Victor chuckled. “So, this is what it feels like? I was expecting a cape and a theme song. Not… lycanthropic rage and spine realignment.”

Dan snorted. “Welcome to the club.”

Victor looked between them and sighed. “Guess I’m a freak now, too.”

Max shook his head. “No, Vic. You’re not a freak.”

He stepped closer, voice steady. “You’re a Chimera.”

The word hung in the air like a brand.

Victor blinked. “A what?”

“A fusion,” Max said. “Lion’s rage. Human will. Something ancient. Something meant to survive. You’re not just strong. You’re evolution written in muscle and blood.”

Victor was silent. Then he muttered, almost to himself, “Chimera…”

He rolled the word around in his mouth like a weapon he wasn’t sure he deserved to hold.

“Guess I’ll have to live up to that.”

…………………

Victor slumped against the brick wall, one knee on the ground, steam still rising from his back.

The rain hadn't stopped, but now it was light – just a gentle drizzle washing the blood from the alley floor. The storm had passed, but the tension hung thick as smoke.

Max rubbed his jaw where Victor had clocked him. It throbbed like hell. Probably bruised. Maybe fractured. But he wasn’t mad.

Dan hovered a few steps away, golden light still faintly pulsing under his skin, not sure if he should come closer.

Victor wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. It came away slick with blood – not his. “That… wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“No,” Max said, still catching his breath. “It wasn’t.”

Victor didn’t look at him. “I didn’t see you. Not really. Everything was heat and noise. My head was full of instincts. Hunger. Fear. I could smell you… but it was like I wasn’t me.”

“You were in there,” Max said. “Just buried.”

Victor laughed bitterly. “Buried’s right. I felt like a passenger in my own body. Watching from inside a cage. And all I wanted was to rip something apart.”

Dan spoke up, finally. “But you stopped. You pulled back. That matters.”

Victor’s golden eyes flicked up at him, conflicted. “I almost tore Max’s throat out.”

Max shrugged. “Would’ve made you feel worse than me.”

Victor gave a small, ragged laugh. “You’re not wrong.”

Silence stretched for a few heartbeats.

Then Max crouched in front of him. “You’re not the only one afraid of what you’ve become, Vic. I’ve got fire in my veins that won’t stop burning. I kill monsters, and I become them a little more each time.”

Victor met his gaze. “And Dan?”

Dan stepped forward. “Golden aura. Emotional healing. Empathic senses. Honestly? I think I got off light.”

Victor grunted. “Figures. I end up with the body horror package.”

Max smiled faintly. “You got more than that.”

Victor frowned. “How do you mean?”

Max stood. “You fought it. You won. You came back. That’s the whole damn point.”

Victor looked down at his hands – calloused, clawed, still trembling but human again.

“I thought I’d feel… stronger,” he muttered. “But I just feel raw. Like everything inside me got scraped open.”

“That’s because you’re not done changing,” Max said. “This was the start, not the end.”

Victor exhaled slowly. Then he pushed himself to his feet. He towered over them again, even as a man. But there was a slight hunch to his shoulders now – a weight he hadn’t carried before.

Victor looked down at his hands – calloused, clawed, still trembling but human again.

“Alright,” he said. “No more excuses.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “That mean you’re in?”

“Damn right I am.” Victor cracked his knuckles. “You’ll need someone to stop you from getting yourself killed.”

Dan grinned. “Also, you’re kind of glowing.”

Victor gave him a flat look. “Say that again and I’ll claw your eyebrows off.”

Max laughed – rough, real. “Welcome to the nightmare.”

Victor rolled his shoulders. “Let’s survive it, then.”

Whatever came next – they wouldn’t face it alone.

And somewhere inside Victor, something quietly growled.