Her fist connected with its muzzle in a spray of blood and teeth. The beast crumpled, its body slamming into a gnarled oak with a wet thud.
It wasn't a mere beast she had slammed.
The remaining rogues froze.
Their eyes glowed silver, not the gold of ordinary wolves. 'Moon-touched,' the elders called them. Cursed by the Goddess for defying her will.
Lyra straightened, blood dripping from her split knuckles. Her breath came in ragged gasps, but her stance was steady. The pain wasn't her enemy anymore, it was fuel.
A furnace in her bones.
Quest Progress: 3 of 5 Threats Neutralized
The fourth wolf charged. It moved unlike the others, smarter, deadlier. But she refused to falter.
She sidestepped, hooked an arm around its throat, and used its momentum to hurl it over the cliff's edge.
Its howl echoed as it vanished into the abyss.
Only one left.
The alpha.
It didn't attack. It watched her, yellow eyes gleaming with something too cunning for a beast.
The forest around them had gone eerily silent, no wind, no crickets, just the low, guttural growl vibrating in its chest.
Then, from the depths of the woods, a howl answered.
The alpha's ears flattened. It backed away, then melted into the shadows. But it didn't stop looking back.
Silence.
Quest Complete: Survive the Night
Reward: Luna's First Blessing
New Skill: Lunar Insight (Rare Passive)
Level Up! Stat Points Awaiting Allocation.
Lyra collapsed to her knees, trembling. The adrenaline ebbed, leaving her hollow and shaking. "I'm not dreaming…"
Leaves rustled.
The howl faded. Leaves crunched, too deliberate to be the wind.
A tap echoed—too close. With her adrenaline spent, escape was impossible.
A voice, low and rough, cut through the dark:
"You're awake."
A man stepped from the trees; tall, wrapped in furs that seemed to drink the moonlight. A rogue, but unlike the others.
His presence didn't set her teeth on edge; it pulled, like gravity. Like recognition.
Lyra's fingers dug into the dirt. "Who are you?"
He knelt, eye-level with her. Up close, his irises weren't just dark, they were void-black, swallowing the light.
When he spoke, his words were a blade and a caress:
"That's not the right question. The question is, little Luna—who are you now?"
The stranger stepped closer, his scent cutting through the iron-and-pine haze of the forest – wilderness and something deeper, like the crisp bite of frost on stone.
Unfamiliar, yet inexplicably calming. Lyra tensed. The adrenaline somehow returned, screamed through her. Her muscles coiled tight, instincts hissing a warning:
Trust no one. Not after Kael. Not after tonight.
She bared her teeth. "I'm not your Luna." Her voice was raw, scraped hollow by betrayal.
Moonlight caught the sharp angles of his face as he tilted his head.
"No," he agreed, voice low. "But you carry the Luna's mark." A pause. The wind stilled.
The mark hadn't been seen since the last Luna's death, burned alive by her own pack for sheltering corrupted wolves.
The Goddess's punishment had turned their howls to silence for a decade.
"And that system?" His gaze flickered to the air beside her, where the blue glow of the interface pulsed.
"Only one chosen by the Moon Goddess can wake it. But…"
Lyra looked down. Her hands trembled—but not just from exhaustion. Her blood shimmered, silver threads weaving beneath her skin like liquid moonlight.
The forest seemed to lean in, holding its breath.
"But what?" she demanded. "Who are you?"
"Ciran." He shrugged, the motion too casual for the way his shadow stretched unnaturally long behind him. He pretended to have not heard the first question.
"Then why are you here?"
A beat of silence. Then, a howl echoed in the distance. Not rogue wolves. Something older.
Ciran's eyes flicked upward, tracking the crimson moon.
"Because fate isn't done with you." When he looked back, his pupils had swallowed the irises – black pits reflecting the stars.
"And if you want to live through what's coming, you'll need help."
Lyra's laugh was brittle. "I don't want help. I want…"
"…revenge," he finished, voice soft.
She froze.
The trees whispered above them, leaves rustling without wind.
Ciran took a step closer.
"You won't get it if you die in these woods like a wounded pup."
Her fists clenched. The system flared violently in her vision, text scrolling sharp and urgent:
[New Quest Unlocked: Train Under the Moon]
Reward: Skill Tree Access
Warning: Lunar Convergence in 3 Nights
Lyra exhaled, ragged.
"What do you want from me?"
Ciran's smile was a blade's edge.
"Only to see," he murmured, "if the Moon finally got it right."
Behind him, the shadows twisted – just for a heartbeat – into the shape of wings.
Ciran led her deeper into the woods, through narrow paths overgrown with briars and hidden roots, paths only someone with years of rogue survival could navigate.
The canopy above choked the moonlight into slivers. Insects hummed like warnings.
Despite her exhaustion, Lyra kept up. Her legs trembled. Her lungs burned. Her body ached in places she didn't know could ache, but the system's constant stream of micro-healing nudged her just above the threshold of collapse.
Ciran moved like mist. At times she swore he disappeared completely, only for him to reappear yards ahead, silent, fluid, untouchable.
They stopped near a riverbank, where black water rushed like breath between the trees.
"Here," Ciran said, his voice low. "We'll start now. The rogues will come again. And next time, they won't run. Especially the Alpha."
Lyra nodded, jaw clenched.
Phase I: Trial by Pain
The training was brutal.
Ciran didn't speak much. He didn't need to. Every blow was a lesson. Every fall was a test.
Without warning, he threw a wooden blade at her.
It spun through the air—she barely ducked.
"Lesson one," he said coldly. "Don't wait for permission to survive."
Then he was on her. His elbow slammed against her ribs. Her back hit the dirt. Wind gone. Pain sharp.
System Alert: Minor Fracture Detected – Auto-Healing Engaged.
Lyra gasped, rolled, and stood again. Her limbs screamed. Her mind burned.
Again.
Again.
She learned to read his movements. The twitch before a strike. The pressure in the air before a blow landed. She began to fight not with her strength, but with her system.
System Message: Passive Skill Unlocked – Combat Awareness I.
Phase II: Traps of the Wild – Day Two
By sunrise, the air was already thick with heat. Mist clung to the underbrush like a warning.
Ciran said nothing as he led Lyra through a narrow path, thorn-laced vines scraping at their arms. Eventually, they reached a clearing that looked... wrong. Too symmetrical. Too still.
Lyra's stomach tightened.
She scanned the space. Dozens of traps were hidden among the trees; some crude, others horrifyingly intricate.
Spikes lined with venomous sap.
Rusted tripwires strung ankle-high, glinting faintly in the light.
Swinging logs, carved into blunt spears, swayed faintly in the breeze, rigged to drop.
Dead leaves and shallow pits covered pressure plates.
It was a graveyard waiting to happen.
"There's no training," Ciran said, stepping onto a low rock, arms folded, "if death's not on the table."
A thin, bitter wind stirred the trees.
"Run."