Time rewinds to before. After Liliana cried herself tired, Sister Sylvia coaxed her to sleep.

  Half asleep, Liliana vaguely heard sorrowful voices coming from the next room.

  Soon, she realized something was wrong! It wasn't Viola!

  Liliana's sleep vanished instantly. Listening carefully, it was actually Sylvia pleading intermittently for mercy!

  And the voice was growing weaker! Feeling something was wrong, barefoot Liliana rushed out. The door was still open; nothing could stop her.

  But when she burst into the room, she was stunned. Liliana was innocent and lively, but not truly naive. What those two were doing on the bed—how could she not know?

  Even if she hadn't known before, sleeping next to Draven every day made ignorance impossible! At that moment, Liliana felt not shame or fear, but deep sadness!

  She clearly was first in line! And Sylvia had never said she wanted to be Draven's woman! Just as Liliana was about to transform into a giant bear and roar in protest,

  the werewolf leader stopped and suddenly turned his head! His blood-red eyes terrified Liliana.

  They made her forget about transforming. The next second, Draven approached and threw her onto the bed.

  Liliana rolled with the momentum, intending to call for Sylvia's help. But Sylvia had already fainted, tear-streaked and unconscious.

  Terrified, Liliana instinctively wanted to run away. But was there time?

  Draven grabbed her forcefully, pulling her close. Without a word, he leaned down.

  His strong body pinned Liliana immobile. Her eyes widened, sparkling with a flash of thought.

  "Is he going to kiss me?" a strange idea suddenly popped into her head.

  However, things soon took a stranger turn... and before long, Liliana cried out and fell asleep.

  How much time passed, no one knew. Viola and Martha returned to the village laughing and chatting.

  This trip had been fruitful. Guided by the treant Acorn Oak, they found many of the bone-repairing flowers Draven had mentioned.

  Since Draven said that fairy Spirit Tofu couldn't be stored long and had to be made fresh and eaten immediately,

  they didn't gather too much. Besides, Draven had arranged for the treants to transplant them, so they could pick some anytime in the future.

  Arm in arm, the two returned to the stone house. Before entering, Viola immediately sensed something wrong.

  The smell and sounds coming from inside drained the color from her face.

  She didn't oppose such things...

  But at least say something...

  And now, the door wasn't even closed...

  Standing at the door, Viola felt a stabbing pain in her heart, as if a thousand pounds weighed down her feet, making it impossible to step forward.

  Martha wasn't a child either—how could she not know what was happening inside?

  Though she had only known Viola for a short time, she truly liked this gentle and kind firefox sister.

  Seeing Viola like this, she couldn't stand it. She pulled the heartbroken Viola inside.

  Among demi-humans, fighting over mates was common. Today, she would help keep the peace, and give the werewolf leader's woman a good lesson for Viola's sake!

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  However, both were bloodline warriors, and Viola was more of a mage. Moreover, Viola would never defy her werewolf leader.

  By the time she realized something was wrong, it was too late. She only managed to shout,"Martha, run!"

  Could Martha run?

  Under the leader's oppressive aura, Martha trembled and became the final victim.

  The noises coming from the stone house could not be hidden from the villagers, especially on such a quiet night. Those low, wailing sobs and suppressed gasps were like sparks falling into a dry haystack.

  Yet even so, no one, including Titus, dared to rashly storm into the leader's room. Not only did no one block the way, but loyal Titus even stood guard at the door, and only after confirming that no one was approaching did he thoughtfully close the door.

  He didn't dare to peek inside, but he wasn't foolish—he knew the leader was surely engaged in some important physiological ritual.

  Inside, the room was in utter disarray, the air thick with the smell of sweat and blood.

  Sylvia, Liliana, Viola, Martha, and Draven sat by the bedside, breathing heavily, their arms trembling slightly.

  Draven slowly lowered his head and looked at the four women collapsed beside him, their breathing faint, tears still drying on their faces. He reached out cautiously and gently moved their limbs that were tangled around him.

  "What have I done…" he murmured hoarsely.

  His mind felt hammered, memories flooding in—fragmented, chaotic, and blurry, yet suffocatingly real.

  His head throbbed painfully; he clenched his teeth, punched his own thigh, then grabbed his hair and pulled hard.

  What the hell was going on?

  Recalling the madness just now, a chill ran down his spine. Viola was his partner—they had long had an understanding;

  Martha had hinted several times—he wasn't blind to that;

  But Sylvia? She was a princess of the Elven Kingdom, of incredibly noble status.

  Worse still was Liliana. Though she always seemed lively and playful, that innocent smile did not look like someone who could endure this.

  Moreover, her father was a great figure who could rival demigods, and also her mentor.

  "I'm doomed. Even dying won't be enough to atone for this."

  He glanced down at the bloodstains on the animal skin bedspread and the bruises—purple or blue—on their bodies. A deep guilt surged up instantly.

  Especially Liliana. She had cried before until her eyes were swollen and unrecognizable; now her face was swollen like a ripe fruit, buried in the pillow, utterly motionless.

  Draven scanned her body and nearly scared himself to death. Not only were her eyes swollen, but almost her entire body was red and swollen.

  At that moment, a faint cry of pain broke the silence. Sylvia woke up, cold sweat on her forehead, lips pale.

  As soon as she opened her eyes, the sharp pain made her instinctively moan.

  Draven hurriedly bent down and covered her mouth, afraid she would wake the others.

  Sylvia's eyes fixed on him, looking at Draven's now-clear red eyes, tears instantly welled up.

  She did not scream or push him away; instead, she trembled slightly and let him gently hold her in his arms.

  Draven's heart ached so much he was nearly speechless. He softly kissed her forehead and cheeks, wiping away the hot tears.

  "I'm sorry, Sylvia. I really don't know what happened."

  She didn't answer, just leaned against his chest, her fist lightly tapping his strong muscles—the gesture delicate, almost like a child's coaxing.

  Seeing this, Draven finally exhaled in relief. He began softly soothing her, whispering comfort like to a child waking from a nightmare.

  Gradually, Sylvia's emotions calmed, her cheek pressed to his shoulder, silent.

  But her gaze passed over Draven and landed on the other three on the bed.

  Her eyes were complex—filled with pity, surprise, and a trace of belated clarity.

  "What exactly happened just now?" she asked weakly.

  Draven opened his mouth but couldn't say a word. He didn't know himself. It wasn't the first time he'd lost control, but this time was different—no warning, no chance to stop.

  He had no awareness of what he did, only knowing that when he woke up, the room was like this.

  Before he could explain, the others also gradually woke.

  Viola glanced at Draven and gave a bitter smile."I know. That wasn't you."

  Martha was slower to wake. Her eyes flickered nervously, deliberately avoiding Draven's face.

  She knew too well what had happened, and the tearing pain on her body spoke volumes.

  She tried to sit up, but intense pain forced her back down, her eyes full of terror and helplessness.

  Lastly was Liliana, who woke shouting,"I don't want to play anymore! I don't want to play anymore!"

  Her voice was full of fear and confusion, clearly still struggling in a nightmare.

  Draven almost jumped in fright, but before he could say anything, Liliana suddenly cried out loudly,"It's over! I can't see!"

  Draven broke out in a cold sweat, thinking her eyes really had been damaged.

  Fortunately, Viola reacted quickly, immediately pulling her into her arms and soothing her softly while gently massaging her swollen eyelids with her fingertips.

  "It's okay, Sister Viola is here. It'll be fine soon. Close your eyes, sleep a bit, it'll be alright."

  Liliana whimpered, clinging to Viola like a frightened little beast.

  With Viola's gentle voice, Liliana finally calmed down, drifting off again into a drowsy sleep.

  That night, there were no scoldings, no furious outbursts.

  They all accepted it—all of it—whether out of trust, helplessness, or tacit consent.

  Draven looked at them, feeling both relieved and heavy-hearted.

  He knew this was only a temporary calm, and the uncontrollable self inside him was still like an unexploded bomb buried within.

  This time it happened in the village—and luckily it was them. But what about next time?

  A vision flashed in his mind: a young short-horned demon bull, docile and harmless, its belly slightly swollen, grazing on a hillside.

  What if the next time he lost control, it happened near that creature?

  He didn't dare think any further.