The arena was silent. Not the hush of calm, but a deeper stillness—like sound itself had been swallowed.
The group stood close, eyes scanning the colossal, circular expanse. The forest they'd been running through was gone, replaced by black stone beneath their feet and towering ridges of jagged obsidian rising high around them. No sky. No wind. Just the oppressive hum of presence—ancient, vast, and watching.
A low growl rumbled from the shadows ahead. Then, slowly, it emerged.
Myrwol.
The beast was massive, dwarfing the tallest of them. Its fur shimmered like night soaked in blood, and its eyes—silver, slit-pupiled, ancient—locked onto the group as if measuring each soul, one by one.
Its voice came not from its maw, but the air itself. Thick. Heavy. Echoing in their skulls.
"Who... has disturbed my slumber?"
The words hit like thunder made of thought, rattling bones and breath alike.
A collective tension grips the group. Each of them is poised, ready to react—Kael's hand tightens around the hilt of his whip-sword, Allen's fingers curl around his chain dagger, and even V's stance shifts slightly, though the sense of unease seems to weigh more heavily on him than others.
Kael, his chest tight, steps forward cautiously, though his voice is calm. "We did," he replies, meeting Myrwol's gaze without flinching, but his heart beats faster. "We're the ones who found this place. What are you?"
Myrwol pauses, his head tilting slightly, considering Kael's words. "Found me?" The ancient wolf's eyes narrow, and a low growl reverberates deep within his chest. "You are intruders. Or are you... worthy to face me?"
The creatures' presence around them becomes more pronounced. The air thickens with a palpable dread, as though the world itself is holding its breath. Myrwol's power, although not fully unleashed, is suffocating, and the team can feel it.
V, not known for his subtlety, steps up, his voice loud as always. "Hey, Myrwol, was it?" he says with a half-sarcastic grin, trying to mask his nervousness. "We didn't know you were napping. No hard feelings, right? Just stumbled into your backyard."
Luck, always the more pragmatic of the group, casts a sharp look at V, his voice barely a whisper. "Not now, V. Keep it down."
But V presses on, undeterred. "Well, whatever, I'm just saying, if you're planning on making a meal out of us, at least we're all pretty tough. I'm sure we'll put up a good fight."
Myrwol's gaze snaps to V, his golden eyes flickering with a spark of interest. His lips curl into a faint, predatory smile, revealing rows of sharp teeth.
"You amuse me, little one," Myrwol rumbles. "You speak with courage, yet I feel your doubt. You, all of you... your powers are raw, unrefined. But you dare speak to me as if you hold the strength to stand against me?"
The subtle, creeping danger intensifies, and the group can feel the weight of their own internal turmoil. There's an unease, a growing pressure in the air, as if something is ready to snap at any moment.
V, sensing his own unease, grips his hands into fists, his body tense. "We've got more strength than you think. You might have been slumbering for ages, but we've been through our own hells. We're not afraid."
Myrwol's gaze narrows again, and his lip curls in a dangerous sneer. "You will learn soon enough what fear truly is."
The ground quakes once more, and with an almost imperceptible movement, Myrwol shifts his massive body, preparing to spring. His body ripples with the force of raw power, the thick muscles beneath his fur seeming to hum with every breath.
Allen's chain dagger is in his hand in an instant, its sharp edges gleaming in the dim light. He's calm, controlled, but a cold sweat beads on his brow. "We're not here to fight you unless we have to. But if you're planning on testing us, we'll show you just how much we've got."
Soren stands at the ready, his repeating crossbow aimed steadily at the creature's throat. His voice, usually steady and calm, carries a slight edge. "I'm with Allen. We'll defend ourselves, but don't think you can provoke us easily."
The rest of the group follows suit, each weapon ready—hook swords for Elowen, chakrams for Caelindra, the bastard sword in Rorek's hands.
The stage is set, the tension unbearable.
Myrwol pauses again, his eyes scanning the group, and for the briefest of moments, there's a glint of something almost amused in his gaze.
"You speak of strength," he muses, his voice now softer, yet laced with power. "But strength alone will not save you in this place. The Quiet Lands do not care for your courage. Nor do I."
With that, Myrwol's form shifts, his massive paw lifting as though to strike.
The ground beneath the group shifts again, and a rumbling grows louder, signaling the beginning of a test they might not be ready for.
But as the creatures and Myrwol prepare to make their move, a sudden realization ripples through the group. They've awakened something more than they bargained for.
And now, they must face the consequences.
The moment Myrwol shifted—massive limbs unfolding from the altar's edge, golden eyes flaring wider as if roused by an ancient instinct—something changed.
The air thickened.
The clearing stilled as if exhaling its last breath.
Aura of the Ancient Wild.
A suffocating pressure rolled out like a wave, primal and wordless. Knees buckled. Teeth clenched. Even those with iron focus felt it—this was what the danger signals had screamed of. Somewhere deep inside, fight-or-flight lit up like wildfire.
V's shoulders tensed. He said nothing, but Luck saw the flex in his jaw. G's usual calm flickered. All three were moving before they even knew why.
Myrwol rose fully now, head brushing the illusion of a sky. Gold shimmered faintly beneath his fur as ancient runes pulsed to life. They were neither warm nor welcoming.
Runes of Binding Sleep.
Some of them—Kael, Rorek, even Nadine—felt it at once: a slow drag at the edge of their Sigils, like something ancient pressing down, dulling their instincts. For a breath, evolution felt miles away.
Myrwol didn't leap.
He simply existed forward—like thunder rolling over hills, space compressing beneath each massive step.
Dreadstep.
His motion was wrong. Too fast for his size. He was there, and then closer, and then everywhere, the space between vanishing with every bound.
"NOW!" someone screamed. It could've been Soren. Or Thorne. Or pure desperation.
Attacks flew.
V launched forward first, his step cracking the earth. His strike wasn't clean—but it was anchored. Dense. It carried every weight he'd swallowed since entering the Quiet Lands. His fists were meteors, backlit by his silence.
Luck was next, already feeling his first, raw wave of probability control take root. He could already sense the faint shifts, the slightest adjustments to the path of his attacks. Every movement felt like a coin flip, and Luck was betting on a side that favored the group.
But Myrwol was already moving.
As V's blow connected with Myrwol's side, it was absorbed like water against a stone. Myrwol's massive head twisted with the force, golden eyes narrowing. His fur rippled and shifted like the wind had stolen the blow's energy.
G, the shadowed figure, reacted next, slipping through the air as he moved with a fluid grace. He wasn't trying to overpower—he was aiming for precision, his movements laced with the quiet joy he found in his own form. Each strike and dodge felt like a dance, an unspoken understanding that seemed to make the air vibrate with harmony. But even his grace faltered, the weight of Myrwol's presence slowing him down.
And Myrwol? Myrwol barely seemed to acknowledge them. Instead, his eyes locked on Luck's next movements—who was attempting to guide his teammates through sheer will, channeling the flickering signs of probability control in an effort to redirect the flow of combat.
Luck, however, had no time for failure.
His hand flicked, a simple gesture, but a sudden change in the environment followed. The wolves attacking from the shadows seemed to stumble—just enough to give him a moment to breathe. But even with all the energy pushing in his favor, Luck knew something: this wasn't just any battle. This was the battle.
And Myrwol was no mere foe.
The beast howled.
The sound shattered the silence like glass. It didn't echo. It reverberated—not just through the air, but in their minds. Memories twisted. Kael felt his mother's hand again, warm and distant. G flinched as his knees buckled, struck by a whisper from years ago. Luck's parry faltered.
Myrwol's Echofang didn't simply deal with the present. It unnerved the past. It unbalanced them all. The battle became more than just the here and now—it was an echo across time, hitting their weak points and insecurities.
But they couldn't stop.
They didn't stop.
The fight had begun.
And the forest held its breath.
The clash of bodies and the rumble of the earth beneath them felt like the entire forest itself was joining the battle. Myrwol, a being of untold power, stood at the heart of it all, a living mountain in motion, and the group had no choice but to fight back with everything they had.
For Kael, the battlefield was a storm of sound and fury, his body moving in instinct, reacting to each shift of the beast before him. His pulse raced, and his mind screamed to keep up with the chaos. The weight of his own growing power—the first stirrings of his Sigil, now more present in his every motion—made him feel like he was on the edge of something vast. But even as the raw potential of his abilities felt closer than ever, he couldn't let it overtake him.
He wasn't ready. Not yet.
But then, Kael saw something—Myrwol's eyes, gleaming gold and ancient, locking onto him, and it sent a cold shiver through his spine. He could almost feel the weight of the beast's stare. It was as if Myrwol could see everything in him: the inner conflict, the crushing weight of his unfulfilled ambitions, and the wild yearning he kept buried beneath the surface. The wildflower on his chest seemed to flicker with the awareness, almost as if it was reacting to the external pressure of the fight. But Kael didn't have the luxury of hesitation.
His sword—now shimmering with the flicker of his growing Sigil's power—came down in a sweeping arc, striking the massive creature's arm. The blow didn't land with the force he expected. It barely scratched the surface. But it was a small victory. For a second, Kael felt the heat of that potential in his chest, the promise of something greater.
But it wasn't enough.
"Kael!" Allen's voice broke through the chaos, his hand reaching out to him in warning. Kael turned just in time to see Allen leap into action, his movements fluid and precise, despite the heavy weight pressing on the air around them. Allen's own Sigil wasn't fully unlocked either, but it didn't stop him from trying to help Kael.
The way Allen moved was almost like a whisper—an unseen force that didn't quite touch the ground, his body too graceful to be anything but a blur. He pushed past the danger, using his own agility to dart in and out of Myrwol's reach. Allen's first stage wasn't about raw strength; it was about precision, about slipping through the cracks of the battlefield like a shadow. He was where Myrwol wasn't, aiming for those moments when the beast's massive limbs would momentarily falter.
"Stay focused," Allen grunted, his voice steady despite the rising pressure. His eyes never left Kael's as they continued their dance of attack and retreat. But there was something more in the way he moved—something Kael couldn't quite pinpoint. It was as if Allen wasn't just reacting to the present, but almost predicting the future. The flickers of probability control swirled around him, shaping his movements like ripples across the surface of a pond.
As the battle raged on, Kael felt a strange sort of connection between himself and Allen. Their actions were becoming in sync, without words, without thought. Allen wasn't just protecting him, he was guiding him—leading him through the chaos with the same quiet resilience that defined him. The pressure of the fight didn't seem to faze Allen, his focus unwavering even as Myrwol's Fury Roar shook the ground beneath them.
The beast was growing more desperate now, its massive body twisting and contorting as it swiped at them both with unrelenting fury. Kael ducked beneath one of the beast's claws, only for a sudden gust of wind to throw him off balance. He barely managed to twist away, feeling the air snap around him as Myrwol's claws scraped the ground with a horrible screech.
Allen didn't hesitate. He was already on the move, his speed and precision allowing him to get close enough to strike at Myrwol's exposed flank with a burst of force that sent a shockwave through the air. The blow was almost imperceptible, but it mattered. It gave Kael a moment to regain his footing.
"Kael, now!" Allen shouted, his voice barely audible over the roar of the battle.
Kael didn't need more than that.
His hand shot out, and his Sigil, still young, still fragile, flared to life. The wildflower on his chest flickered, the petals growing sharper as he poured his energy into the strike. It wasn't fully formed, not yet, but there was a burst of potential in that moment—a wild, untamed surge of power.
The blade of his sword glowed with a soft but dangerous light, and he swung it at Myrwol's chest. This time, the blow was heavier, more precise. It wasn't enough to pierce the beast's skin, but it cracked the surface of the Sigil-like markings that ran beneath the fur.
Myrwol howled.
The beast recoiled, massive jaws snapping as the air around it crackled. But Kael and Allen didn't stop. They couldn't. Myrwol might have been an unstoppable force of nature, but together, they had something—a flicker of hope.
But just as Kael raised his sword for another strike, the ground shook violently. Myrwol's golden eyes narrowed. His body shimmered with an ethereal glow, and the forest around them seemed to bend and shift. Kael's heart sank.
There was no question anymore.
This wasn't just a battle. It was a test.
The battle raged on, and Kael, Allen, Luck, and V found themselves locked in the heart of the storm that was Myrwol. The towering beast was a force of nature, and yet the group fought with the fire of determination in their eyes. But there was a growing weight among them, a tension that pulled at the edges of their minds, especially V.
Kael, still feeling the unfamiliar surge of his Sigil's awakening, moved with a precision born of instinct. The crackling energy from his sword hummed in the air, and he had a sense of the wild potential stirring within him. It felt as if something was just beyond his reach, like an unlocked door he could sense but couldn't quite open.
His focus was split. Myrwol's attacks were relentless. The beast swung its mighty claws with terrifying speed, sending shockwaves of pressure through the air. Kael had to stay agile—he couldn't afford to get caught under the beast's wrath.
But then, there was V.
V's movements were growing slower. His normally swift reactions were starting to feel slightly out of sync, a second too slow, a breath too shallow. The burdens he carried, both internal and external, were beginning to accumulate. The pressure of absorbing everyone's weight—the pain, the fears, the doubts—was starting to show, though none of it was visible yet.
Kael caught a glimpse of V's face as he fought, his jaw set in determination, but there was something else. V's eyes seemed… distant. The usual sharpness was fading.
Luck noticed it too. He had fought alongside V countless times, and he knew him better than most. The instinctive shielding of others—the way V protected those around him, shouldering their burdens—was now turning into something heavier. Luck could feel it, a subtle shift in the air, as if the weight of the battle was pressing more heavily on V than it was on any of them.
"V, you good?" Luck shouted over the chaos, his voice strained but trying to reach his friend.
V's response came through gritted teeth, his voice low and strained. "I'm fine," he said. But even the words felt… distant, detached. It wasn't like V to respond so flatly.
Kael, still fighting, felt a pit grow in his stomach. He knew what was happening, knew V was starting to buckle under the pressure. But now wasn't the time to pull back. Myrwol was still a god of the forest, a being of untold power, and they couldn't afford to pause.
But then, V's movements slowed further. He swiped at Myrwol's leg with his weapon, but it lacked the usual force behind it. His strikes were soft, almost tentative, as though his body wasn't responding to his mind in the usual way.
"V!" Allen shouted, his voice laced with concern as he ducked beneath a swipe from Myrwol, moving to get closer to him.
But V's eyes barely registered the motion.
"I'm fine," he repeated, though his tone didn't carry the usual assurance. He was starting to feel the weight of the accumulated burdens—more than he ever had before. The growing overload was beginning to eat at his spirit. Every battle, every moment of straining his abilities, was adding to it.
Myrwol roared, shaking the ground beneath them, and the beast lunged forward again, this time with more force, more fury. Kael blocked one of its claws just in time, but the beast was relentless. He glanced at V—the look in his eyes was hollow. His exhaustion was starting to show.
Kael's grip tightened on his sword, but it wasn't just his own battle anymore. He could feel the heavy burden that V was carrying. The overload was creeping in, bit by bit, and soon it would be more than even V could bear.
"V!" Kael called out, trying to get his attention.
But V didn't respond—not immediately. He was in the midst of raising his weapon again, but it looked like it took all his energy just to do so. His movements were lethargic, almost like he was dragging his own body across the battlefield.
Luck darted in close, his hand outstretched, but he hesitated. V's Sigil, as strong as it was, was still fragile—especially in moments like this. V was getting crushed by the weight of his own abilities, and Luck wasn't sure whether trying to intervene would be enough to stop the spiral.
"I… can't..." V's voice came out strangled, barely a whisper, before his body gave an involuntary shudder.
And that was when the first real sign of the overload became visible.
His Sigil, etched faintly across his back, began to glow—but it wasn't the vibrant, sharp light of someone in control. It was more like the flickering of a failing flame. It started to tremble, the image of elephant tusks appearing briefly, but it quickly distorted, flickering between states—something unstable.
"V, no!" Kael shouted, pushing forward to try and create space for him, but his own strength wasn't enough to keep Myrwol's relentless assault at bay.
The overload was hitting faster than any of them had anticipated. The more burdens V carried, the stronger he got, but the stronger he got, the more overwhelming the pressure became. It was a vicious cycle, one that Kael, Luck, and Allen weren't sure how to stop.
Kael glanced at Luck, his heart racing. "We need to help him."
Luck nodded grimly, but the battle was far from over. They had to deal with Myrwol, but if V couldn't hold on much longer…
The fight was about to take a darker turn. Myrwol wasn't just a test of strength. He was a test of will—and V's was quickly beginning to crack.