Rain lashed against the windows of the mountain temple, mirroring the tempest raging within Hotaru. He stalked through the corridors, his hoari robe clinging to him, heavy with the night’s work. Blood, both his prey’s and that of the unfortunate souls who had dared to defy him, stained the rich fabric and darkened his skin. Each drop was a testament to his brutal efficiency, a mark of the Serpent God’s unforgiving wrath. His face, usually a mask of serene composure, was contorted with barely contained fury. The simmering rage beneath his usually impassive demeanor threatened to erupt with the force of a volcanic eruption. The black veins on the side of his face darkened with intensity.

Suddenly, a small figure darted around the corner. It was Mitsuki, one of his three children, his face alight with childish glee, oblivious to the storm brewing in his father’s heart. The boy, caught up in his own world, crashed into Hotaru’s legs. The impact, slight as it was, was enough to ignite the god’s simmering anger. He glared down at the boy, his eyes burning like hot coals. The playful light in Mitsuki’s eyes flickered and died, replaced by a dawning awareness of the danger he was in.

"Foolish whelp!" Hotaru snarled, his voice a low growl that echoed through the stone corridors. Without a second thought, without a flicker of hesitation, he lashed out. The slap echoed through the hall, a sharp, brutal sound that cut through the roar of the storm outside. Mitsuki stumbled back, his small hand flying to his burning cheek. The red imprint of Hotaru’s hand was stark against his pale skin.

The boy’s eyes, wide with shock and pain, welled up with tears. Hotaru, his anger still a living thing inside him, felt no remorse. The rage that had driven him all night, the fury at the disrespect and disobedience he had encountered, found a convenient outlet in his son’s accidental transgression. "Get out!" he roared, his voice echoing off the walls. "Get out of my sight before I teach you another lesson!"

Mitsuki, his lower lip trembling, turned and fled towards his mother. His sobs echoed behind him, mingling with the howling wind and the drumming rain. Hotaru watched him go, his chest heaving, the anger slowly beginning to recede, leaving behind a cold, hollow emptiness. He knew, deep down, that he had been too harsh, that his fury had found an undeserving target.

But the pride of the Serpent God, the ingrained belief in his own absolute authority, prevented him from acknowledging his actions. He turned and continued his march through the temple, the image of his son’s tear-streaked face, the echo of his terrified sobs, a dark stain on his soul.