The morning sun crept over the jagged ridges encircling the Ferawyn lands, bleeding golden light across the mist-covered training grounds outside the tribe's perimeter. Kael'thas stood barefoot on the cold stone floor, his breath shallow, eyes fixed on the approaching figure.
Varon.
The broad-shouldered warrior moved like a boulder with purpose, gray fur glinting with battle-scars and age. His gaze held no warmth, but neither did it burn with disdain. There was something... deeper.
"Morning, pup," Varon said curtly. "How many unique monster cores have you absorbed?"
Kael straightened. "Seven."
Varon raised a brow. "Good. You're further along than I expected. And which monsters?"
Kael listed them—carefully, precisely. Varon nodded at each name, eyes scanning the ground in thought.
"Not bad. You chose well. But this next step isn't just about numbers."
Kael tensed.
Without another word, Varon produced a thick leather belt from a pouch at his side and strapped it around Kael's waist. It was lined with iron stones—dense and cold. The weight nearly made him stumble.
"What's this for?"
"Stamina training," Varon said simply. "Run the outer ring. Don't stop until I return."
"Wait, for how long—?"
But Varon was already walking away.
---
Three agonizing hours later.
Kael collapsed to his knees beneath a spindly tree at the far end of the ring path, his tongue dry and legs trembling. His fur was matted with sweat and dust, lungs begging for mercy.
When Varon returned, he didn't speak immediately. He simply stared.
Then he smirked.
"You didn't collapse halfway. Better than most pups your age."
Kael didn't answer. He didn't have the breath.
With a grunt, Varon knelt and placed two glowing monster cores before him—radiating with pulsing, alien energy. Their colors were vastly different from any Kael had seen.
"These," Varon said, "will bring your total to nine unique cores. Absorb them. I'll guide you this time."
Kael's eyes widened. "You'll help?"
Varon nodded. "Backlash is still possible with unfamiliar species. You've been lucky so far. Let's not press it."
Together, they began the absorption.
Kael's Devour skill surged, the monstrous energy of the cores funneling into his body. His muscles ached. His mind burned with flashes of instincts not his own. His claws itched with hunger... but he held on.
When it was done, Kael slumped forward, gasping.
System Notification echoed in his mind:
> [Devour Level: 3] → Progress: 9/10 Unique Cores Absorbed
Next Stage Evolution: Pending...
Then Varon stood.
"The 10th core," he said gravely, "isn't just a number. The Elders have set a condition."
Kael blinked up at him, heart still pounding.
Varon looked toward the distant sky.
"You must prove your worth—not to me, not to your mother, not even to yourself... but to the Council of Guardians. Only pups strong enough to survive the trial for 10th unique core are allowed to try."
"Why?" Kael asked. "Why is the 10th so important?"
"Because it triggers your true evolution. If the core isn't compatible—or powerful enough—your body will collapse. You'll die. Or worse... become feral."
Or also to check how much had you grown from you born
Kael swallowed hard.
Varon turned to him fully, voice like distant thunder.
"To ensure this doesn't happen, the Council chooses three possible final cores. Each one from a rare, high-risk species. You must fight one under supervised trial. Only then will they allow the absorption. A warrior will accompany you... and watch you bleed."
Kael's claws curled into the earth.
So this is the final step.
Not just to evolve—but to survive it.
The days that followed blurred into a cycle of pain, grit, and fire.
Varon did not go easy on me.
He stripped every weakness bare—testing my strength, patience, and limits. The weight belt stayed wrapped around my stomach like a cursed chain. I trained until my limbs gave out, until I vomited and still had to keep crawling.
"This is stabilization," he told me once as I lay face-first in the mud, gasping for breath. "You've devoured the instincts of nine monsters. But if your body and mind can't handle their influence... you'll break during evolution."
At night, I barely slept. I meditated, grinding my skills under the system's interface—matching old instincts with new ones, learning to distinguish which voice was mine and which came from the monsters I had consumed.
Every successful hunt gave me experience. Every failure carved new lessons in my bones. My level climbed slowly—but steadily. My stats weren't overwhelming yet, but they were refined. Honed.
Varon didn't just teach me how to swing my claws—he taught me when not to.
"You're not a beast," he growled one morning, flipping me into the dirt with a single hand. "You're the son of Kaelir. Learn to fight like it."
Those words stuck.
---
Three weeks passed.
And then... it was time.
The Trial of Evolution.
A sacred rite held only for those at the edge of transformation.
I walked through the center of the tribal village, flanked by guards. My presence didn't go unnoticed.
"Is that the runt?"
"He's going for the Trial? Hah!"
"No way he has nine cores... must be a joke."
"Didn't he train with Varon?"
"Or maybe the rumors about the previous alpha's blessing are true..."
I kept walking. Eyes forward. Jaw clenched.
Let them talk.
---
The Trial Grounds
An ancient circle of stone lay embedded in the valley floor, etched with runes and guarded by statues of the First Ferawyn Ancients. At the center stood a towering relic—the Relic of Echoed Flame, a crystal mirror that reflected a beast's soul and secrets.
Step One: Window Verification
I stood before the relic.
One of the Elders, Councilor Thryan, barked, "State your name and purpose."
"Kael'thas. I seek the right to evolve."
The relic flared to life.
A ghostly version of my status window shimmered in the air. Titles. Attributes. Skills. Level.
But—
> [Devour] – Hidden by System Security Protocol
My heart skipped.
It worked.
The system had concealed my Devour skill, just as it had when I first awakened. Only the basic skills showed—Feral Instinct, Enhanced Senses, Predator's Reflex.
The elders leaned in, scrutinizing. No suspicion, no outcry.
Thryan nodded. "You may proceed."
---
Step Two: Trial of Strength
Three summoned beasts emerged—hulking, bone-armored creatures. Each one stronger than the monsters I'd devoured.
I didn't hesitate.
I tore into them, weaving between blows, my claws striking with surgical precision. I used the gravity-enhanced lunge I'd gained from the Gravetail Serpent, and the blood-scorching bite from the Embermaw Hound.
It was clean. Efficient. Deadly.
The observers murmured, stunned.
---
Step Three: Trial of Endurance
Here, I had to withstand constant attacks from three skilled warriors without using offensive skills. Just movement, stamina, and defense.
It lasted half an hour.
Every muscle screamed. Every bone ached.
But I endured.
---
Step Four: The Judge's Gauntlet (chosen step)
A psychological trial.
A hall of illusions formed by an elder's projection magic. I was forced to face visions—of my mother bleeding, of Rava being torn apart, of my own death as a pup.
I nearly broke.
But then...
I remembered Varon's voice.
"You are Kaelir's son."
And I walked through the illusions with my claws at my side, head held high.
---
Step Five: Mock Battle
A surprise opponent.
Varon himself stepped forward, arms crossed.
"Show them, pup."
The crowd gasped.
I faced him, knowing full well I wouldn't win.
But this wasn't about winning.
It was about surviving. Proving I could adapt.
I unleashed every move I'd honed over the past weeks—sliding beneath strikes, using terrain, combining speed with instinct. He overpowered me, of course—but I lasted longer than anyone expected.
When it ended, he nodded silently and stepped away.
---
A hush fell over the grounds.
Then—
> "The Trial is Passed."
The verdict echoed across the valley.
Shock rippled through the watchers like a wave.
"He... passed?"
"That runt?"
"Did you see how he fought?"
"Maybe the Guardian did train him... or maybe... he really is Kaelir's heir..."
I didn't hear the rest.
All I knew was this:
One core remained.
And soon... I would choose what kind of monster I would become.
The roar of the crowd faded. My heart still thundered from the trial.
Nine unique cores. One trial passed. One left to go.
But somewhere deeper—beneath the surface of this triumph—something else stirred.
---
[Scene Shift – Deep Chamber, Unknown Location]
Darkness cloaked the chamber in thick, silent folds.
Faint torchlight flickered along the stone walls, casting long shadows like reaching claws. A circle of ancient thrones—each carved with runes and worn by age—stood occupied by silhouettes. Faces remained hidden, all but one.
Only Varon's face was visible in the dim glow.
He stood at the center of the meeting. Alone.
One of the shadowed elders leaned forward, his voice amused. "Heh. So the shadows never forget their original forms. I see you haven't lost your taste for drama, old friend."
Another added with a low chuckle, "And word spreads fast. I hear you trained the runt. The one everyone thought would die before his first core. Bold of you... or just sentimental?"
Varon's eyes narrowed, the edge of a snarl in his voice. "Say that again. I dare you."
Power crackled faintly in the air—thick, suffocating.
But before tensions exploded, a deep, authoritative voice cut through.
"That's enough."
The tribe's Chief had spoken.
"This isn't the time for jokes or personal squabbles. We're not here to debate your apprentice, Varon."
Silence returned.
The Chief continued, voice grim. "Let's begin. The reason we've called this emergency meeting... is far more dangerous."
He gestured toward a stone tablet glowing with faint red runes. "Reports from our scouts confirm that the demonic aura beneath the lower Labyrinth levels has begun rising—more concentrated than ever. And not just energy. One of those... things has already breached the upper floor."
A murmur of alarm echoed in the chamber.
The Chief looked to one side. "Witness and confirmation were provided by Kael'thas's aunt, Tarya Bloodhide."
Varon's eyes sharpened.
"She reported encountering Kael and the burn-scarred girl, Rava, while patrolling late at night. They were ambushed by a creature twisted by demonic essence. It should not have been on the upper floors."
Another elder hissed, "Impossible... unless something is forcing them upward."
The Chief's expression darkened. "You all know what this could mean. You know the legend of our tribe. Or rather—what you call a legend, and what some of us know to be the cruel truth of this world."
He paused. The firelight dimmed.
And the scene cut to black.