The forest was a suffocating, living darkness. Moonlight struggled to pierce the thick canopy, managing only to dapple the forest floor in shifting, ghostly patches of silver. Every shadow seemed to writhe with unseen things, and every rustle of leaves was a predator's footfall. Astraeus had been walking for hours, putting as much distance as he could between himself and the ruins, but the sense of being watched hadn't faded. It had only changed its flavor, from ancient and demonic to something more primal and hungry.
His stomach growled, a loud, embarrassing rumble in the oppressive quiet. He flinched. When had he last eaten? Before the expedition. A lifetime ago. Twelve hours? Twenty? Time had become a fluid, meaningless concept.
"Food," he said aloud, the word a dry rasp. "Water. Shelter."
Congratulations. You've mastered the basic tenets of survival. Shall I applaud?
"Your sarcasm is really helping right now," Astraeus muttered, stumbling over a root.
I am a Demon King, not a wilderness guide. This is your problem. Solve it.
Astraeus gritted his teeth. His academy robes, torn and filthy, offered little warmth against the damp night air. His boots, designed for polished hallways, were already rubbing his heels raw. He was alone, unarmed, and completely, utterly lost.
"This is fine," he said, the lie tasting like ash in his mouth. "Everything is fine."
You're talking to yourself. That's usually a bad sign.
"I'm talking to you."
I'm in your head. Same thing.
A branch snapped nearby. Astraeus froze, every muscle tensing. He strained his ears, listening over the frantic pounding of his own heart. For a long moment, there was nothing but the whisper of the wind. Then he heard it—the soft, rhythmic panting of a large animal, accompanied by the near-silent pad of paws on damp earth.
"Kha'Zul," he whispered, his voice tight with panic. "What is that?"
How should I know? I can only sense what you sense. And you, apparently, have the observational skills of a blind mole.
"Can you at least tell me if it's dangerous?"
Everything in a forest at night is dangerous. Especially to someone as pathetically weak as you.
The breathing grew closer. Astraeus backed away slowly, trying to make his steps silent. His hand instinctively reached for the Ethereal Essence he could now feel flowing around him, a cool, humming energy in the air. Silver-blue light began to coalesce around his trembling fingers.
A wolf stepped into a patch of moonlight.
It was a monster. Easily twice the size of any wolf he'd ever seen in a bestiary, its fur the color of a storm cloud, its eyes glowing with an eerie, intelligent yellow light. Its lips peeled back from its gums, revealing teeth like daggers.
"Oh, no," Astraeus breathed.
Oh, yes, Kha'Zul said, and there was a distinct note of amusement in his mental voice. Dire wolf. Apex predator. Hunts in packs. You should probably run.
"Run? You just said—"
I said everything is dangerous. I didn't say running was pointless. Though in your case, it probably is. They're faster than you.
The wolf let out a low, rumbling growl that vibrated in Astraeus's chest. From the shadows behind it, two more wolves emerged, just as large, just as menacing. They fanned out, a practiced, deadly efficiency in their movements, cutting off any hope of escape.
His mind raced, a frantic scramble for a solution. He couldn't outrun them. He couldn't fight them hand-to-hand. His only advantage was magic, and he had exactly one offensive spell that he'd barely managed to pass the exam for.
"I have to fight," he said, the words a statement of grim fact.
Finally. Some sense.
The lead wolf lunged.
Time seemed to warp, stretching and slowing. He saw the creature's powerful muscles bunch and release, saw it launch itself through the air, a blur of dark fur and gleaming teeth. His body moved on pure, unthinking instinct. He threw himself to the side, stumbling but staying upright, his hands already forming the gestures he'd practiced a thousand times in the sterile safety of the academy training halls.
"Ignis Sagitta!" he screamed, the word tearing from his throat. Ethereal Essence surged through him, raw and potent, shaping itself to the formula burned into his memory.
A bolt of crackling fire erupted from his palm, streaking through the air and slamming into the wolf mid-leap. The creature yelped, a high, pained sound, twisting in the air as the magical flames clung to its fur. It hit the ground hard and rolled, trying desperately to extinguish the fire that was consuming it.
[SKILL USED: BASIC FIRE MAGIC (-15 ESSENCE)]
[ETHEREAL ESSENCE: 30/50]
The other two wolves hesitated, their pack leader's agonized cries momentarily breaking their focus. Astraeus didn't give them time to recover. He channeled more essence, his hands a blur as he formed the incantation again.
"Ignis Sagitta!"
The second bolt caught the leftmost wolf in the shoulder. It howled and backed away, smoke and the stench of burning fur rising from the wound. The third wolf, seeing its packmates injured and its prey fighting back with fire, made a decision. It turned and vanished back into the shadows, the other two limping after it.
Astraeus stood there, chest heaving, his hands still glowing with residual magic. The adrenaline was a roaring fire in his veins, making his vision sharp and his thoughts race.
"I did it," he said, a note of disbelief in his own voice. "I actually did it."
You survived. Do not confuse that with victory.
"I'll take what I can get."
[COMBAT ENCOUNTER COMPLETE]
[EXPERIENCE GAINED: 30]
[LEVEL: 1 | EXPERIENCE: 30/100]
The system notification was a small, satisfying validation. He was getting stronger. Slowly, painfully, but it was happening.
Your spellcasting is sloppy, Kha'Zul observed, his tone as critical as ever. You waste essence on unnecessary flourishes. And your aim is terrible. You should have hit the first wolf in the head, not the torso.
"I was being attacked by a giant wolf! I think I did pretty well, all things considered."
You did adequately. Which means you'll die slightly slower than I initially predicted. Now keep moving. The smell of burnt fur will attract other, bigger things.
Astraeus wanted to argue, wanted to collapse to the ground and let his trembling legs rest, but he knew Kha'Zul was right. He forced himself to move, pushing deeper into the forest, every sense screaming with newfound alertness.
An hour later, the trees began to thin, and he saw something that made his heart leap: a thin column of smoke rising against the pale, pre-dawn sky. Where there was smoke, there was fire. And where there was fire, there were people.
He stumbled onto a rutted dirt road and followed it, exhaustion forgotten. The road led him to a small village nestled in a clearing, a cluster of simple wooden buildings with thatched roofs. A few early risers were already about, their movements slow and deliberate in the cool morning air.
Astraeus approached cautiously, acutely aware of his appearance. He looked like a wild thing, his robes torn and stained, his face smudged with grime. The woman at the well noticed him first, her hand immediately going to the knife at her belt, her expression wary.
"Morning," Astraeus called out, his voice hoarse. "I'm sorry to intrude. I got lost in the forest."
The woman's eyes swept over him, lingering on the tattered remains of the Arcanum Institute crest on his chest. Her expression softened, but only slightly.
"Lost, are you?" Her voice was rough, but not unkind. "You're a long way from any academy I know of."
"There was an accident," Astraeus said, the lie coming easily. "An expedition went wrong. I'm the only one who made it out."
Sympathy flickered in her eyes. "Come on, then. You look half-dead. I'll get you some food and water."
Careful, Kha'Zul warned. Humans are often more dangerous than wolves.
"I don't have much choice," Astraeus murmured.
The woman, Mira, led him to the village tavern. The handful of villagers inside fell silent as he entered, their eyes taking in his ragged state. He told them his story—a carefully edited version of the truth—and they listened with a mixture of pity and suspicion.
"The Valdris ruins?" an old man scoffed. "That's cursed ground, boy. Only fools and grave robbers go there."
"The academy thought it was safe," Astraeus said quietly.
Mira brought him a bowl of porridge and a cup of water, and he devoured it like a starving animal. The warmth of the food spread through him, a small comfort in the wreckage of his life.
"You can rest here for the day," Mira said, "but we don't have much to spare. You'll need to be on your way by evening."
"Thank you. Is there a city nearby?"
"Thornhaven," the old man said. "Three days' walk east. Big trade city. They have a mage guild. You can sort yourself out there."
Three days. It felt like an eternity. But it was a destination. A goal. Mira showed him to a tiny room upstairs, and he collapsed onto the thin mattress, the world dissolving into darkness before he even had time to take off his boots.
Sleep, Kha'Zul's voice rumbled in the back of his mind, surprisingly devoid of its usual mockery. You're no use to either of us if you collapse from exhaustion. I will keep watch.
It should have been unsettling, the thought of a Demon King standing guard over his sleep. But Astraeus was too tired to care. For the first time since he'd been reborn, he felt a flicker of something that wasn't terror or desperation. It was a strange, fragile sense of security.
He slept. And for the first time in a long time, he didn't dream of dying.