Chapter 415: Irreversible Change

Astrid thought about how she used to be.

How she had loved demi-humans so much that she called herself one.

How she would proudly tell everyone about her tails, about how they connected her to their world.

How she had looked at humans who hated demi-humans and wondered how anyone could be so cruel, so closed-minded, so wrong.

The stories of past conflicts between humans and demi-humans?

Ancient history. Irrelevant.

This was a new age. A peaceful age. Her mother was building a world where everyone could get along.

And Astrid had believed it.

With all her heart, she had believed it.

But now?

Now she saw the truth.

The demi-humans at that party—they had smiled at her.

They had praised her.

They had called her a blessing, a good omen, a bridge between worlds.

And she had believed them.

She had opened her heart to them.

And they had tried to kill her.

They had chased her through that forest, weapons raised, screaming for her blood.

They had wanted to cut off her tails—the tails she was so proud of, the tails that made her feel connected to them.

They had wanted to wear her fur as a trophy.

And worse, so much worse they had done this to Mika.

They had hunted him. Wounded him. Broken him.

Turned him into that bloody, bandaged thing lying in the next room, connected to machines just to stay alive.

All while wearing smiles.

All while pretending to be friends.

All while she trusted them.

The realization hit her like a physical blow.

It was all fake.

Every smile. Every laugh. Every compliment.

All of it was lies.

She could never trust a single one of them again.

Not ever.

Because at the end of the day, no matter how much peace her mother and aunts tried to create, no matter how many treaties were signed and alliances formed—they were still intruders.

Invaders. Beings who had come to her world and caused nothing but suffering.

If the demi-humans had never come to this world, none of this would have happened.

If there had been no peace negotiations, no party, no celebration—Mika would be fine.

He would be healthy. He would be running and playing and laughing instead of lying in a hospital bed with tubes in his arms.

It all made sense now.

The humans who hated demi-humans—they weren’t wrong.

They had seen the truth long before she had.

They understood that no matter how friendly demi-humans acted, no matter how much they smiled and laughed and pretended to want harmony—the moment things got difficult, they would show their true faces.

Monsters wearing masks of kindness.

That’s all they were.

All of them.

And the man standing before her, blathering on about apologies and compensation—he was no different.

He had given birth to the spawn who had orchestrated this whole nightmare.

He was responsible. Even if he hadn’t ordered it, even if he had tried to stop it, he was still one of them.

And he had just dismissed Mika’s suffering.

That boy. Whoever he was. Just some random child whose sacrifice was acceptable collateral damage.

Realising this, the rage that filled Astrid was unlike anything she had ever felt.

It consumed her.

It transformed her.

All the love she had once felt for demi-humans—all the warmth, all the affection, all the connection—twisted in an instant.

Turned inside out. Became its opposite.

Hate.

Pure, absolute, all-consuming hate.

She hated them.

Every single one of them.

Because they had hurt Mika.

And anyone who hurt Mika deserved to suffer.

To die.

To be erased from existence entirely.

And her hate first manifested to the king who not only gave birth to the maggot that caused so much harm to Mika, but had the audacity to dismiss his suffering as well.

Her tails moved.

All seven of them.

They shot forward with terrifying speed and wrapped around the king’s wrists, gripping them tightly.

The king barely had time to register what was happening before—

SPLURT!

SPLURT!

For a moment, there was silence.

The king stared at the stumps where his arms used to be, his mind unable to process what had just happened.

Blood sprayed from the wounds, painting the floor crimson.

Then—

"AAAAAAAGH!"

He screamed.

A horrible, inhuman sound of agony and disbelief.

But Astrid wasn’t done.

She lunged forward, ready to finish him. Ready to tear off his head. Ready to destroy him completely, the way he and his kind had tried to destroy Mika.

She wanted to kill him.

She needed to kill him.

And she would have.

If not for—

"ASTRID, STOP!"

Nadia burst into the room.

She had heard the scream. Felt the shift in the air. And now she stood between her daughter and the king, her arms outstretched, her face a mask of horror.

"Move, Mama!"

Astrid’s voice was not the voice of a child.

It was raw. Feral. Desperate.

"MOVE! I have to kill him! He dared to hurt Mika! He dared to lay a hand on my little brother! I have to FINISH HIM!"

But Nadia stood firm.

"Astrid, listen to me—"

"I WON’T LISTEN! MOVE OR I’LL—I’LL—"

She couldn’t finish. Because even in her rage, even in her fury, she couldn’t threaten her mother. Not really. Not ever.

But she could beg.

"Please, Mama. Please move. I have to kill him. He’s one of them! They’re all the same!"

"They smile and lie and pretend to be our friends, and then they do this! They did this to Mika! They made him into that!"

Tears streamed down her face.

"You didn’t see him, Mama. You didn’t see what he looked like. All bandaged. All broken. Dying. He was dying because of them!"

"And this man, h-he’s the reason! Even if he didn’t order it, he’s still one of them! He still deserves to die!"

Nadia’s heart shattered at the sight of her daughter.

But she still didn’t move.

"I know you’re hurting, Astrid. I know you’re angry. I know you want revenge. But killing him won’t bring Mika back faster. It won’t undo what happened."

"And he truly had nothing to do with this—I investigated. It was his son, acting alone. He—"

"I DON’T CARE!"

Astrid’s scream echoed off the walls.

"I don’t care if he tried to stop it! I don’t care if he’s innocent! He’s still a DEMI-HUMAN! They’re all the same!"

"THEY ALL DESERVE TO DIE FOR WHAT THEY DID TO MIKA!"

She then looked at her mother with desperate, pleading eyes and begged,

"Please, Mama. Please be on my side!"

"You’ve always been on my side! No matter what I did, you supported me. You protected me. So, please, just this once—please let me kill him!"

"Please let me make them pay!"

Astrid stared at her mother.

Waiting.

Hoping.

Believing that somehow, some way, Nadia would see things her way. Would understand. Would join her in her righteous fury.

But Nadia just stood there.

Blocking her path.

Protecting the enemy.

And in that moment, something else shattered.

Not her rage.

Not her hate.

Her trust.

Because for her entire life, her mother had been her rock. Her protector. Her guardian.

No matter what Astrid did, Nadia was there, supporting her, guiding her, loving her.

So when Astrid had made her stand—when she had declared that demi-humans were the enemy and this king had to die—she had been certain, in her innocent child’s heart, that her mother would agree.

That her mother would see the truth too.

That her mother would fight beside her.

But instead—

Nadia stood in her way.

Nadia protected the enemy.

And because Nadia had always struggled to show her emotions, because her face was always stiff and her voice always flat, she couldn’t convey the love and concern behind her words.

She couldn’t make Astrid understand that she was trying to save her daughter from herself.

All Astrid saw was her mother.

Standing with the enemy.

Telling her she was wrong and looking like she was angry with her.

It felt like the biggest betrayal in the entire world.

And in that moment, something inside her solidified.

Something cold.

Something hard.

Something that would never, ever trust a demi-human again.

Or anyone who stood with them.

But just then—something caught her eye.

Movement behind her.

Her tails.

Her own tails, swaying gently in the air as they always did—seven fluffy appendages that had once been her greatest pride.

The things that made her special.

The very tails she had shown off to everyone, demanding they admire them, demanding they acknowledge how beautiful they were.

But in that moment, looking at them, she felt nothing but revulsion.

These tails—these disgusting tails—they were the link.

They were what made her seem like one of them.

They were why Mika was lying broken in the next room.

She didn’t want them anymore.

She wanted them gone.

Before Nadia could react, before anyone could even process what was happening, Astrid moved.

Not toward the king.

Not toward her mother.

Toward the small table beside her hospital bed.

Where a scalpel lay.

She grabbed it, the metal cold in her small hand, and before Nadia could scream, before she could move, before she could do anything—

Astrid swung.

SLASH!

Her tail came off in a single, brutal stroke.

Blood sprayed across the room.

The tail—her beautiful, precious tail fell to the floor, severed at the stump. It lay there, twitching once, twice, then still.

The pain was unimaginable.

Her tails had always been the most sensitive part of her body.

That was why the fourth tail was such a weakness.

But this—this was different.

This was amputation. This was a part of her being ripped away.

She should have been screaming.

She should have been crying.

She should have been curled up on the floor, unable to move.

But instead, she raised the scalpel again, aiming for another tail.

Because the pain in her body was nothing compared to the pain in her heart.

And if cutting off every single tail meant never being associated with those monsters again—

She would do it.

She would do it all.

Nadia had finally reacted, grabbing her daughter, restraining her, pulling the scalpel from her grip.

But Astrid fought her—fought her own mother with a strength born of madness and grief.

"Let me go, Mama! Let me go!"

"I want to cut them all! I want to take this disgusting link away from me!"

"These tails—they make me look like them! They connect me to them! I want them gone! I want to rip them all off!"

Nadia held her daughter, tears streaming down her face.

"Astrid, please—please stop—you’re hurting yourself—"

"I DON’T CARE! I’d rather be in pain forever than be associated with those MONSTERS! Let me go, Mama! LET ME GO!"

But Nadia couldn’t let her go.

And Astrid wouldn’t stop fighting.

So Nadia did the only thing she could.

She knocked her daughter unconscious.

Astrid went limp in her arms.

Nadia held her for a long moment, trembling, sobbing silently. Then she laid her gently on the hospital bed and stepped back, just as Fauna burst into the room.

"What happened?! I heard screaming and—"

Fauna stopped.

Her eyes took in the scene. The king, bleeding on the floor, clutching the stumps of his bloody shoulders. The blood spray across the room.

And on the floor—

A tail.

A beautiful, fluffy tail, severed and still.

Fauna’s face went white.

"Is that—did Astrid—"

"She cut it off."

Nadia whispered, her voice hollow.

"She cut off her own tail because...she didn’t want to look like them anymore."

Fauna didn’t hesitate. She rushed to Astrid’s side, her hands glowing with healing power.

She pressed them to the bleeding stump, stemmed the flow, began the process of closing the wound.

Then she looked at the severed tail.

"I can reattach it." She said quickly. "If I work fast, I can—"

She grabbed the tail and pressed it to the stump, pouring her power into the connection.

But nothing happened.

The tail wouldn’t attach.

It was as if Astrid’s body was rejecting it. As if, on some fundamental level, it no longer wanted anything to do with that part of itself.

Fauna tried again.

And again.

And again.

Nothing.

The tail lay there, separate, lifeless, a permanent reminder of what had been lost.

Fauna looked up at Nadia, her eyes filled with tears.

"I can’t. It won’t...It won’t take. It’s like she...like she doesn’t want it back."

Nadia sank to her knees.

Her son lay in another room, broken and bandaged, barely alive.

Her daughter had just mutilated herself in a fit of rage and grief.

And now one of her tails—one of the things that made her who she was was gone forever.

What kind of mother was she?

What kind of mother let this happen to her children?