The night after the raid felt heavier than any storm.
The fires had died down, but the air still carried the smell of blood, burnt wood, and fear. The village wasn't celebrating survival—there was nothing to celebrate. Only bodies to move, roofs to patch, wounds to bind.
Kael walked through the wreckage with slow, aching steps. His muscles screamed with every movement. His ribs throbbed like someone had driven nails into them. Even after healing, he still felt sore everywhere.
And it didn't help that he could feel something silently stirring within him.
System… just what the hell are you doing to me?
No answer. Only the faint dull hum in his chest.
Villagers spotted him and bowed their heads, murmuring thanks. Some looked at him with awe. Others couldn't meet his eyes at all.
And honestly, he didn't blame them. They had seen him stab, crush, and fight like a monster that refused to die.
He wasn't sure what he had seen in himself either.
He walked towards the village well to wash off the blood and grime off his body, where Elara found him, trying (and failing) to tie a makeshift bandage around his arm. She tried keeping her footsteps, but he felt them all the same.
"You're injured," she said, not asking. Her lips tightened. "Give me that."
"It's nothing serious," Kael muttered.
"Then you won't mind sitting down."
He blinked. "…You've gotten bossy."
"Maybe," she said, cheeks puffing slightly as she grabbed his arm. "Or maybe you're just terrible at pretending you're fine."
Her hands were steady, but Kael didn't miss the way she kept glancing over him, at the bruises, the dried blood...
"You really scared me back there," she whispered.
Kael froze. "Scared you? You get scared?"
"You...," She sighed. "I thought you were going to die." Her voice dropped, barely above a breath. "You fought like someone with nothing to lose."
He didn't know what to say to that.
So he said nothing.
Elara finished tying his bandage, then sat beside him, hugging her knees. "Whatever secret you and the Companions are hiding… I won't ask. Not yet. But just know…" she hesitated, "…I don't see you any differently."
Kael looked at her. Really looked.
She was tired. Shaken. But she stayed.
That meant more than she knew. Because according to what he remembered, everyone loathed the very existence of werewolves and if capable, would kill them on sight.
— — —
Later that night, the Companions gathered in the partially collapsed longhouse. The roof was broken. Smoke drifted in. But it was quiet enough to talk.
Skjor sat with his hands steepled, staring at the flickering firelight. Aela sharpened her dagger despite it already being sharp enough to cut air. Vilkas leaned against a broken pillar, one foot tapping restlessly.
Kael stood off to the side, arms crossed.
Aela was the first to break the silence. "Well, that wasn't a normal raider group," she muttered.
"Clearly," Vilkas snorted. "Who the hell walks around with a muzzled werewolf like it's a pet?"
Skjor's gaze darkened. "And vampires among them. Low-rank, but trained. Organized."
The word vampires still tasted sour in Kael's mouth.
He remembered their eyes. Their hunger. How they moved in perfect sync. And that thing—the muzzled, twisted werewolf, they didn't treat it like a prisoner.
More like… a weapon.
"So," He asked quietly, "was this random?"
"No," Skjor answered. "This was a test. It matches with the wolf the little pup fought a week ago. They're moving fast"
A faint chill crept down Kael's spine.
A test? From who? For what?
Aela sheathed her dagger. "We need to move soon. If this wasn't random, they'll try again."
Vilkas crossed his arms. "And next time, they won't bring a half-starved werewolf. They'll bring something worse."
Everyone fell silent.
— — —
Hours later, the village lay under a blanket of uneasy quiet.
Kael sat alone on a broken fence, staring at the sky that had finally cleared. Stars shimmered overhead, cold and distant.
He rubbed his hands together. Time to count our spoils of battle.
— — —
Name: Kael
Rank: The Turned (Next rank at Lv.10)
[NEW!]Class: Unknown
Level: 10
XP: 35/200
SP: 10
Stat Point: 15
HP: 100/100
Energy: 35/50
Strength: 40
Defense: 32
Agility: 30
Skills:
Feral Sprint Lv.2
Utility Lv.1
— — —
'10 SP and 15 Stat points. Beautiful'
Immediately, he navigated to the shop section and brought up a skill for purchase.
-10SP
Life Leech Lv.1: Converts 25% of damage dealt into HP
"This skill has the potential to become a real menace in battle. Especially if I level it up and simultaneously increase my energy pools."
Next came fifteen stat points. Thirty raw stat increases.
He exhaled slowly. Speed keeps me alive. Strength keeps me dangerous. Defense keeps me breathing. An all-rounded fighter is better and a speed-based with no strength or defense and likewise.
He made his choices.
Strength +10, 40 → 50
Agility +10, 30 → 40
Defense +10, 32 → 42
The changes hit all at once. His body tightened, lighter and heavier at the same time.
Kael flexed his fingers, watching the faint crimson glow fade from his palms.
A crooked smile tugged at his lips.