Genetic Broken Uprising

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|  Lifeline of a Saint  |
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Aou barged through the door, his whole body leading the charge as the old wood groaned under the force of his entrance. The hinges creaked in protest, rattling violently in their frame, threatening to send the door crashing to the ground. "Jesus, Aou—!" Isbanky's voice trailed off, abruptly cut short as his eyes widened in shock at the sight before him.

The usually tidy foyer resembled a war zone. Papers lay strewn across the floor, their edges curled and torn as if caught in a frenzy. An overturned chair rested awkwardly against a battered side table in the hallway, which bore the scars of a struggle, its surface littered with broken glass and scattered debris. The walls, once adorned with art, displayed a patchwork of damage—scratches and smudged fingerprints marked the desperate escape of the princes.

"Boom?!" Aou shouted, the sheer panic in his voice echoing through the empty halls of the townhouse. The word hung in the air, heavy with dread, as the reality of the situation sank in. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through him, heightening his senses as he raced deeper into the chaos.

Behind him, his friends followed closely, their expressions mirroring his urgency. They breathed heavily, attempting to gather their thoughts amidst the turmoil, but the tension was palpable, propelling their every step forward. The faint scent of scorched firewood mingled with the musty air, adding to the sense of impending danger.

Aou darted ahead, his heart pounding fiercely in his chest, a wild rhythm that surged with each rapid footfall. He raced towards the kitchen, driven by an instinctive need to confront whatever horrors lay ahead. As he m the corner, the chilling sight that greeted him momentarily stole the breath from his lungs.

The window was shattered, its jagged shards piercing the air like a twisted grin, glinting dangerously in the dim light that filtered through the fractured glass. The cool early morning air crept in, carrying an unsettling chill that clashed with the rising heat of his fury.

Instinctively, Aou's gaze dropped to the floor. Blood smeared across the cool tiles, a dark, crimson stain that spread like a grotesque work of art, stark and vivid against the muted backdrop of the kitchen. His breath hitched in his throat, caught between disbelief and anger as he struggled to process the fearsome reality of the scene.

"No," Aou whispered to himself, the word barely escaping his lips as he felt an icy grip of dread tighten around his heart. Ignoring the rising panic, he took off running towards the living room, propelled by a desperate determination to unearth the truth behind the chaos.

As he burst into the room, the sight that met his eyes struck him like a physical blow. The once-inviting space lay in utter disarray; furniture was overturned, strewn about as though a violent storm had swept through. Cushions were tossed aside, creating a mosaic of colors across the floor—a chaotic landscape of plushness amidst the wreckage.

The fireplace was now a simmering smoke cloud as the fire had gone out. In the wreckage, the baby blue blanket he had given to Boom, unceremoniously torn, lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. The soft fabric, once a symbol of comfort and warmth, now bore the marks of the turmoil that had erupted. Its gentle hues stood in stark contrast to the scene around it.

Aou felt a surge of protectiveness rise within him, knotting with the anger that simmered just beneath the surface.

"I'm going to fucking murder Kayala!" Aou shouted, his voice laced with an intensity that could have shattered glass, reverberating off the walls. The words erupted from him like a volcanic burst of fury, raw and unfiltered. His eyes were wild and frantic, darting around the space as if trying to see through the walls themselves.