Edgar Valentine wasn’t just angry. Things had gone too far long ago. What dominated the atmosphere now was something more brutal, more direct, more dangerous. His presence seemed to weigh on the air, as if the atmosphere itself struggled to remain stable while he paced back and forth, his heavy steps marking the ground with unnecessary force.

Jake was kneeling a few meters ahead.

Not out of respect.

But because he knew that standing at that moment would only worsen the situation.

Even so, it didn’t help much.

"How," Edgar began, his voice low, controlled in a way that only made clear how close he was to exploding, "can you be so stupid?"

Jake opened his mouth to reply, but couldn’t form anything in time.

Edgar was already in front of him.

The movement was quick.

Direct.

Without warning.

The kick came from below, striking Jake’s face with absurd force, far beyond what was necessary to cause damage. The impact wasn’t just physical; it was so violent that it completely displaced the structure of his face. Half of his face simply vanished on impact, flesh and bone ripped away as if they were nothing.

Jake’s body was thrown several meters back by the impact, rolling across the ground before stopping.

Silence.

For a second.

Two.

And then—

The sound began.

The regeneration.

The flesh rebuilding, muscle fibers rearranging, bones returning to their place with damp, uncomfortable crackling sounds. The process didn’t take long, but it wasn’t a pretty sight either. In a few seconds, Jake’s face was back, still with small marks that gradually disappeared.

He spat some blood to the side.

He took a deep breath.

And looked up again.

"You’re the one who told me to go after him," Jake retorted, his voice still a little unsteady, but firm enough not to sound submissive. "You said to eliminate Victor before he grew up. I thought—"

"You thought?" Edgar interrupted immediately.

His voice rose.

Not much.

But enough.

He took a step forward, his eyes fixed on Jake with an intensity that made it clear this wasn’t a normal discussion.

"You thought?" he repeated, now slower, heavier.

Jake didn’t answer immediately.

Wrong.

"What part," Edgar continued, moving closer, "of ’go there and solve the problem’ did you translate as ’invade the domain of a woman who has lived in isolation for centuries and is known for being completely unstable’?"

Jake clenched his jaw for a second, clearly holding back the answer.

But he couldn’t stay quiet.

"I knew he was there," he said, trying to defend himself. "I just followed the trail. When I realized it, I was already inside. I thought that—"

"You thought," Edgar interrupted again.

His tone was now one of pure contempt.

"You thought it would be a good idea to talk to her?" he continued. "You thought negotiating with someone everyone avoids even mentioning would be productive?"

Jake clenched his fists, but maintained his position.

"I thought I could use this to our advantage," he replied, now more firmly. "If she were interested, if she saw value in him, maybe—"

Another move.

Faster than the previous one.

Edgar didn’t kick this time.

He grabbed.

His hand closed around Jake’s neck, lifting him off the ground effortlessly, his fingers pressing hard enough to stop his breath without necessarily crushing him.

Jake reflexively brought his hands to his arm, trying to relieve the pressure.

Useless.

"You really," Edgar said, bringing his face close to Jake’s, his eyes cold, "thought involving that thing would be a smart move?"

Jake tried to speak.

He couldn’t.

Edgar tightened his grip a little more.

"Do you know what it is?" he continued, low, but heavy with contained irritation. "Do you have the slightest idea what kind of trouble you’ve brought on us?"

Jake managed a breath.

"The problem already existed," he replied, forcing his voice out. "The boy is already a problem."

Edgar was silent for a second.

Then he let go.

Jake fell to the ground hard, coughing as he gasped for air, his body still adjusting to the impact and the previous pressure.

Edgar turned his back for a moment, running a hand over his face as if trying to organize his thoughts.

It wasn’t working very well.

"Yes," he finally said. "He is a problem."

Jake looked up, still on the ground. "Then why are you treating me like I did something wrong?" he asked, still angry even after everything.

Edgar turned his face slowly toward him.

And that was enough to make it clear that the question was a mistake.

"Because you not only failed," he replied, too calmly now, "but you made the situation worse in a way that I can’t fully predict yet."

Jake frowned.

"She didn’t do anything," he said. "She didn’t even try to kill me. She just... ignored me."

Edgar let out a small laugh.

No humor.

"That’s the problem," he replied.

Jake was silent for a second.

"If she had killed you," Edgar continued, "it would be simple. It would mean she doesn’t want involvement. But the fact that you came out of there unscathed—"

He stopped.

Thinking.

—"means she’s interested."

The silence that followed was heavier than any previous shout.

Jake blinked.

"Interested in what?" he asked.

Edgar didn’t answer immediately. His gaze wandered for a moment, clearly assessing possibilities.

Scenarios.

Consequences.

"This," he finally said, "is exactly what I didn’t want to find out in the worst possible way."

Jake stood up slowly, still cautious.

"You’re exaggerating," he said, trying to regain some control of the situation. "She’s just another isolated anomaly. We’ve dealt with worse."

Edgar turned completely around now, facing him directly.

"No," he replied, bluntly. "We haven’t."

Jake opened his mouth.

He stopped.

Because, judging by his tone—

There was no room for discussion.

Edgar took a step forward.

"You invaded the territory of someone who doesn’t follow any rules," he continued. "Someone who doesn’t answer to any authority, doesn’t respect any hierarchy, and has absolutely nothing to lose."

He paused briefly.

"And you did this while trying to deal with something that’s already out of control by nature."

Jake fell silent.

This time, without an immediate response.

Edgar took a deep breath, his control slowly returning, but still fragile.

"You don’t understand the scale of the problem," he said, now more quietly. "And that’s what irritates me the most."

Jake looked away for a moment.

"Then explain," he asked dryly.

Edgar observed him for a few seconds.

And then answered.

"If that woman decides the boy is interesting," he began slowly, "that completely changes the game."

Jake looked at him again.

"How?"

Edgar didn’t hesitate.

"Because nobody controls her," he said. "And nobody controls what she does when she’s interested in something."

The silence returned.

Longer this time.

Deeper.

Jake swallowed hard, even without openly showing it.

"...And what do we do now?" he asked.

Edgar looked at him.

Cold.

Calculating.

"Now?" he repeated.

He turned his back again, starting to walk.

"Now we pray that you haven’t just turned a big problem... into something impossible to contain."