The sun had barely risen when Aiden left the village again.
This time, no one tried to stop him. No warning from Bran, no staff striking the ground from Elder Rowan. Only eyes followed him from doorways and fields — suspicious, fearful, curious.
Whispers trailed behind his back.
"Again… he goes into the forest."
"Does he think himself a knight already?"
"He won't come back one day."
Aiden kept walking. His chest ached with the weight of their stares, but his resolve burned hotter. He had felt the seal stir. He had felt the chains rattling beneath Blackwood.
And he knew one thing: if he didn't grow, he'd be devoured.
---
The forest greeted him like an old rival.
Dew clung to the underbrush, sunlight cut through the canopy in fractured beams, and every sound — every rustle, every chirp — felt sharpened against his ears. The battle with the Crimson Lizard had honed him. His senses stretched further now, mapping the terrain in subtle layers.
He paused at the ridge where the hunting team usually stopped. Beyond this line, the trees thickened, the air grew heavier, and most villagers would never dare cross.
Aiden stepped over without hesitation.
---
It didn't take long to find them.
A low growl echoed through the trees. Then another.
Dire Wolves.
He recognized their sound instantly. Larger than common wolves, their fur bristled like steel needles, and their eyes gleamed faintly with a predatory light. Rank 3 at minimum, sometimes reaching Rank 5.
Perfect.
Aiden crouched, tightening his grip on his broken blade. His veins pulsed with faint warmth — the Dragon's Heart stirring, the Devourer's hunger eager.
Three wolves padded into view, circling. Their bodies rippled with muscle, their fangs long enough to pierce bone.
Aiden's breath steadied. One at a time.
The first lunged. Aiden twisted aside, blade flashing. Sparks flew as metal scraped against thick hide. The wolf snarled, tail lashing, but Aiden was already moving — footwork smoother, instincts sharper.
The second charged from behind. Aiden ducked, rolling across damp soil, his sword cleaving upward as he rose. Steel bit into flesh. Blood sprayed.
The wolf yelped, staggering, but not falling.
Their hides are tougher than I thought…
The third came from the left. Too fast.
Aiden pivoted — too slow. The beast's jaws closed around his arm. Pain flared white-hot, fangs tearing into flesh.
"Gh—!"
But instead of panic, a strange calm took him. The whispering hunger stirred. His veins burned black, his strength surged, and with a roar of his own, he drove his blade straight into the wolf's throat.
The beast convulsed, collapsing in a heap.
Blood ran down his arm, but already the wound pulsed strangely, closing faster than it should. The Devourer's power drank greedily, turning pain into strength.
The remaining two circled warily, growls low. Aiden's lips curled in a grim smile.
"Come then."
---
The battle stretched on.
Every clash of fang and steel pushed him harder, every wound healed faster than the last. By the time the final wolf fell, its body crumpling into the underbrush, Aiden stood covered in blood, chest heaving, but alive.
And stronger.
He could feel it — his muscles taut with new power, his senses sharper still. Rank 3. Not just a threshold, but solid ground beneath him now.
He exhaled slowly, staring at the fallen beasts. Their blood soaked the soil, their bodies heavy and lifeless.
The hunger whispered again. Devour.
Aiden knelt, pressing his hand against the nearest wolf's chest. The energy surged, flowing into him — dark, potent, wild. His veins burned black, his vision blurred with flashes of teeth, claws, endless howls.
He tore his hand away with a gasp.
The hunger receded, leaving him trembling.
If I keep doing this… what will I become?
But as strength surged in his limbs, as his wound knit closed, the answer came easily.
Stronger. Strong enough to survive.
---
Hours passed as he carved his way deeper. More wolves came — sometimes in pairs, sometimes in packs of four or five. Each battle pushed him closer to exhaustion, but also closer to mastery. His movements grew sharper, his instincts faster, his strikes deadlier.
By dusk, the forest floor was littered with bodies.
Aiden leaned against a tree, sweat soaking his clothes, his blade chipped nearly to ruin. His chest rose and fell in ragged breaths, but his eyes burned with a fire that hadn't been there before.
He wasn't just surviving anymore. He was thriving.
The Dire Wolves, creatures that once would have torn him apart, now fell beneath his blade. And though he hadn't faced a Rank 5 yet, he knew he was ready.
Ready — and hungry.
---
Back in the village, unease spread.
The hunters returned from their day's work to find fresh wolf carcasses dumped near the outer ridge. Dozens of them. Some half-devoured.
"This… this isn't normal."
"No one could do this alone…"
"Unless…"
Eyes turned toward one name.
Aiden.
---
Night fell heavy as Aiden finally emerged from the forest. His clothes were torn, his arm still bleeding faintly, but his eyes gleamed sharper than ever.
The villagers who saw him drew back instinctively. Even the hunters hesitated.
He walked past them in silence, straight through the square, past Rowan's house where the elder watched unseen from the shadows.
No words were spoken.
But whispers followed.
"Monster…"
"Not human…"
"Or worse — cursed."
Aiden reached his small hut at the edge of the village. He shut the door behind him and leaned against it, chest heaving. His hand trembled. His reflection in the water basin glowed faintly, veins dark beneath his skin.
He clenched his fist.
So be it. Monster, cursed, demon — call me what you will. If it means I'll survive, if it means I'll grow… I'll accept it.
Outside, a howl split the night.
But this one was deeper, louder. A Rank 5 Dire Wolf.
Aiden's lips curved into a cold smile.
"Tomorrow," he whispered. "You're mine."
---