The village of Blackwood rarely stirred at dawn, but this morning was different. When the battered hunters limped back through the gates, carrying the carcass of a Dire Wolf Alpha across wooden poles, the entire settlement gathered. Farmers abandoned their tools, children ran barefoot through the dirt roads, and the women of the village covered their mouths in awe.
"Gods above…" one man whispered, his voice trembling as his eyes landed on the beast's massive body. "That's no ordinary wolf."
The corpse was heavier than three men combined, its fangs longer than daggers, its fur so thick that ordinary steel would've struggled to pierce it. Even dead, the beast radiated a suffocating aura that pressed against the lungs of those who dared draw near.
The Dire Wolf Alpha—a Rank 5 monster—slain at the edge of the village.
And among the weary hunters stood a boy.
Aiden lowered his hood, revealing his face streaked with blood and dirt. His breathing was steady, though his arms still trembled from the weight of his sword and the memory of claws nearly tearing him apart. The villagers' eyes shifted toward him, whispers starting to ripple through the crowd.
"Isn't that Garron's boy?"
"No… not his blood, but the orphan. The one who never gave up training."
"He faced that thing and lived?"
The attention made Aiden uneasy. He had never fought for recognition, never sought praise. Yet in this moment, under the pale glow of dawn, every gaze felt like a weight.
Beside him, Garron barked to the hunters, ordering the wounded to be taken to the healer's hall. But his eyes, sharp and calculating, lingered on Aiden. He had seen many young men pick up the sword, seen many fall before they reached adulthood. Yet this boy had stared into the maw of a Rank 5 beast and had not faltered.
Later, when the crowd dispersed, Garron called him aside.
"You nearly died out there," the old hunter said gruffly, though his tone lacked its usual bite. "That beast should've torn you in half. But you didn't break."
Aiden wiped at the dried blood on his cheek. "I couldn't. If I had, others would've died."
"Hmph." Garron crossed his arms, studying him for a long while. "You've got more steel in you than most men twice your age. But listen well, boy. Strength like that… it draws eyes. Not just from villagers who see you as some hero. From things darker. Stronger. The forest isn't the only place filled with predators."
The words lingered like smoke. Aiden bowed his head slightly, then returned to his hut.
---
That night, the village was restless.
The hunters' victory should have brought celebration, yet unease hung in the air. The Dire Wolves had never strayed so close before. Their Alpha's death would not go unanswered.
Inside his hut, Aiden sat cross-legged, his sword resting beside him. His eyes were closed, but his mind was anything but calm.
He could still feel it—the whisper in his chest, the urge that had risen the moment the Dire Wolf Alpha fell. That pull to reach out, to consume its essence, to claim the strength for his own.
He clenched his fists.
Three years had passed since his reincarnation into this world. Three years since he'd first discovered the strange power within him. He had used it sparingly, cautiously, only when survival demanded it. Yet now, with each stronger foe he faced, the hunger grew sharper.
Is this really the path of a knight? he wondered. Or am I becoming something else?
The dream of knighthood had always been about honor, about protecting others, about rising above his weakness. But honor didn't feed power. And power was what he needed most in this world where beasts and demons lurked beyond every tree.
He thought back to the Alpha. Rank 5. Strong, intelligent, commanding a pack of monsters with nothing but a howl. If such creatures roamed the forests… then what of the world beyond?
His grip tightened. He needed to grow stronger. No matter the cost.
---
Meanwhile, Garron sat alone in the tavern, a half-empty mug in his hand. The other hunters had gone home, some to rest, others to drown their fears. But Garron's thoughts weighed heavily on him.
He had fought Rank 5 monsters before, back in his youth, when he had been part of a mercenary company. It had taken a dozen trained men to bring one down then. Yet this boy—a mere youth—had stood his ground against one, even if Garron had delivered the final blow.
Aiden was no ordinary child. Garron knew it now.
But what unsettled him most wasn't the boy's skill. It was the look in his eyes after the fight. That cold clarity. That hunger.
It was a look Garron had seen before, in men who sought power above all else. Some had risen to greatness. Most had fallen into ruin.
The old hunter sighed, running a hand through his greying hair. "What are you, boy?"
---
Two nights later, the forest answered.
The hunters on watch reported strange movements again. The howls were different this time—closer, sharper, more frantic. By the third night, the village could no longer ignore it.
The Dire Wolves were gathering.
And not just them. Shadows moved alongside the wolves. Figures cloaked in black, whispers of chanting that carried faintly through the trees when the wind was still.
The old seal beneath Blackwood was weakening.
---
On the fourth night, Aiden found himself restless. He wandered the outskirts of the village, his sword at his hip. The moon was high, pale light spilling across the wooden palisade.
That was when he heard it. A low growl, too close.
His hand went to his sword. He slipped through the gate, ignoring the startled guard's protest. He followed the sound into the treeline, every sense alert.
There—between the trees—glowed eyes. Not one. Many.
Dire Wolves. At least five of them, smaller than the Alpha but still massive, their red eyes burning with malice. They stood silent, unmoving, as though waiting for something.
And then, from behind them, a figure stepped forward. Cloaked, face hidden, but the air around him was heavy, oppressive.
Aiden's heart skipped. This wasn't a beast. This was human.
The cloaked man raised a hand, and the wolves lowered their heads in obedience. His voice, when it came, was smooth, chilling.
"So, you're the boy who helped slay the Alpha."
Aiden tightened his grip on his sword. "Who are you?"
The figure chuckled softly. "A whisper. A shadow. A servant of something far greater. You've touched strength you do not understand, boy. And for that, you'll soon be devoured."
The wolves bared their fangs.
Aiden's pulse quickened. His body screamed at him to retreat, to call for help. But the fire in his chest, that relentless hunger for strength, burned hotter.
He raised his sword, eyes narrowing. "Then try."
---