The night air was cold against his skin, but Aiden barely felt it. His body still trembled, not from weakness, but from the storm raging inside him. Every nerve felt alive, every muscle brimming with unnatural strength, yet his chest burned with a gnawing ache.
The Direbear's essence had filled him past the breaking point. It hadn't felt like a simple growth—it had been a flood, a drowning tide, forcing itself into every corner of him until he could barely breathe.
And even now, as he staggered back toward the village, the whispers hadn't ceased.
More. Stronger. Don't stop here.
He clenched his fists until his knuckles cracked. His eyes still faintly glowed, a sickly shimmer beneath his lashes. He tugged the hood of his cloak low, praying no one would notice when he returned.
The forest seemed to lean closer as he walked, the shadows whispering. The bloodied earth and fading ash behind him marked the grave of a creature that should have been untouchable for someone of his level. No ordinary boy could have felled it. Not even the seasoned hunters of Blackwood.
Which meant that, sooner or later, someone would ask questions.
The thought gnawed at him almost as much as the hunger itself.
By the time the dim glow of the village came into view, his steps had steadied, his expression schooled into neutrality. Blackwood was quiet, the people long asleep. Only the faint glow of watchfires burned along the village perimeter.
Aiden slipped past them, moving as though he'd been out scouting like any other night. He made his way to his small home, the simple wooden cabin gifted to him when he was taken in. Inside, the air was stale, faintly carrying the scent of pine and smoke.
He dropped onto the wooden stool by the table, leaning forward with his head in his hands. His heart still pounded too fast, his skin still burned with excess energy.
"Calm down," he muttered to himself. "You can't lose control here. Not in the village."
But the whispers didn't care. They hissed and pulled, urging him to rise, to go back out, to hunt again.
He slammed a fist into the table. The wood cracked under the blow, splintering the edge. Aiden froze, staring at the damage. His hand barely stung.
Damn it…
The strength he carried now was frightening. Even without trying, it seeped through him, demanding to be used. If he wasn't careful, even the smallest slip could expose him.
A knock at the door jolted him upright.
"Aiden? You awake?"
It was Elias, the hunter who often led the village's hunting team. His voice was calm, but firm.
Aiden straightened quickly, pulling his cloak tighter around him. "Yeah," he called back, forcing his tone steady. "I'm up."
The door opened, and Elias stepped inside, lantern in hand. His sharp eyes swept the room, lingering for a moment on the cracked table before moving back to Aiden.
"You're late returning tonight," Elias said. "The watchmen didn't see you come back through the gates until just now."
"I went deeper than usual," Aiden replied quickly. "The forest felt… restless. I thought it best to scout further."
Elias studied him silently, as though weighing his words. The older man had always been perceptive, the type to see through half-truths with little effort. Aiden forced himself not to look away.
After a long pause, Elias finally nodded. "Careful, boy. Blackwood is no place to wander lightly, especially now. Even the lower-ranked beasts have been restless of late." His tone softened slightly. "You've got skill, but don't mistake that for invincibility."
Aiden inclined his head. "I understand."
Elias gave one last look around the cabin, his gaze flicking once more to the splintered wood, but he said nothing. Instead, he turned toward the door. "Rest. We'll need you sharp for the next hunt."
When the door closed behind him, Aiden let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging.
Too close. Elias had noticed something. He always noticed.
If Aiden kept pushing like this, if he kept feeding the hunger, it was only a matter of time before someone saw too much. And yet…
He closed his eyes. The image of the Direbear flashed again in his mind. Its towering form. The thrill of the battle. The intoxicating rush of victory.
His hands trembled. Not from fear—never from fear—but from the memory of that overwhelming power.
How could he stop now?
The whispers purred in agreement.
You can't. You won't. Devour more. Grow more. Until nothing can stand before you.
---
The following days blurred into a fragile routine. By day, Aiden trained with the hunters, honing his skills in controlled sparring matches and mock hunts. He kept his movements deliberately clumsy at times, hiding the sharpness that threatened to spill out.
By night, he returned to the forest, giving in to the hunger in measured doses. He hunted Rank 3s and 4s, never too much at once, never enough to raise suspicion. But it was like trying to feed a fire with scraps of wood—it only burned hotter.
And the strain began to show.
At meals in the village hall, his appetite grew insatiable. Where once a single bowl of stew sufficed, now he needed three, four, his hunger never quite sated.
When sparring with the hunters, he had to hold himself back so fiercely it left his body aching, his muscles twitching with restraint.
And his eyes…
More than once, he caught his reflection in water or steel, saw the faint glow burning there. He learned to lower his gaze, to keep his hood up, to avoid anyone noticing. But how long could he hide it?
Whispers in the village began to stir. Nothing direct, nothing accusatory. Just mutters of how the boy seemed stronger lately. How his movements seemed unnatural at times. How his eyes looked strange in the firelight.
It was enough to tighten the noose around his chest.
---
The breaking point came sooner than expected.
One evening, the hunting team returned bloodied from an encounter with a Rank 5 Basilisk deeper in Blackwood. Two hunters were gravely injured, their breaths shallow, poison seeping through their veins.
The village scrambled for aid. Herbs and remedies were brought, but the poison spread too quickly. Panic rippled through the people.
And Aiden felt it—the hunger whispering again.
You can save them. You can take the poison. Devour it. Show them your strength.
His hands trembled as he clenched them at his sides. He wanted to step forward, to unleash the power burning inside him. But if he did, the mask would shatter. They would see what he truly was.
Elias's eyes found his across the crowd, sharp, questioning. Almost… suspicious.
Aiden looked away, heart hammering.
The hunger roared within him, louder than ever before.
And in that moment, Aiden knew: the fraying mask he wore could not hold much longer.
---