It's Like Waking Up From a Nightmare

Redrum’s ears pinned back as he processed the words, his golden eyes narrowing into slits. The older wolf’s acknowledgment of Medusa stirred something fierce in him, a flash of pride tinged with an edge of protectiveness. His lips quivered, caught between a snarl and a grimace, as he grappled with the surge of emotions.

But the mention of Diablo? That set a different fire in his chest. The battlefield, the struggle—Redrum’s memory was hazy, but it pricked at something primal. “He bested– Redrum once... then, nine months old.” His voice was tight with barely concealed disdain as he spoke through clenched teeth. His muscles coiled, each twitch accentuating his inner turmoil as he replayed the vague memory of the clash. “Now? Redrum would tear– Diablo – apart.” The thought was almost intoxicating, fueling a growl deep in his throat. The idea that he had been outmatched, even by a brother, gnawed at him like a festering wound. He could feel his claws flexing into the dirt beneath him, trying to anchor himself. The cat began to hiss in his ears, sending them flicking in each and every direction.

As Ignis drew closer, closing the distance, Redrum’s body tensed further, every instinct screaming to lash out, to challenge this sudden declaration. His breath hitched as those crimson eyes locked onto his own, setting his fur bristling on end. What did that mean? “Father?” The word hung heavy in the air, spoken with a mix of disbelief and scorn. The concept was foreign, an abstraction that had no place in his world. But there was no lie in the old wolf’s gaze. No hesitation. Just cold, hard certainty. What was a father? Redrum had only ever had a Medusa.

Redrum’s lips curled back slightly, exposing the tips of his teeth as conflicting emotions warred within him—anger, confusion, a gnawing sense of betrayal. His fur rose involuntarily, mirroring the tension radiating off Ignis. Mother. Father. Mother. Father. He’d heard it before, though now that it applied to him, it was strange. “Redrum… has no need for– fathers.” The defiance in his voice was palpable, yet there was a tremor beneath it—a sliver of doubt creeping in. His gaze flickered over the older wolf, searching for any hint of deception, but found none. He felt his jaw twitch, a subtle expression of the conflict threatening to break free.

For a heartbeat, silence reigned, thick with anticipation. Redrum’s claws dug deeper into the soil, each flex a manifestation of his pent-up energy. The old brute’s words gnawed at his mind, sinking in deeper than he wanted to admit. “But if– this is true,” he continued, his voice rough and jagged, “Then Redrum will decide– what that means.” He took a step back, eyes burning with a mixture of fury and curiosity. He wasn’t ready to accept this claim, but he couldn’t fully deny it either. The connection, however unwanted, was there—a thread that both intrigued and repulsed him.

His muscles quivered with unreleased energy, every fiber of his being demanding some kind of resolution—an answer, a fight, something. He settled for neither, keeping his stance firm yet taut, ready for anything. “Redrum does not– follow blindly,” He snarled, his voice raw. Aligning his gaze with the man's, his shoulders rolling.“You say– father. Prove it.” It wasn’t just a challenge—it was a test. He needed more than words, more than declarations. He needed to know if this Ignis was truly someone worth reckoning with, or just another obstacle to be overcome. His sharp gaze lingered, waiting for a sign, something to validate the old wolf's audacity.

"Murder"