The Lord Dimension did not wait for Ethan Vale to acclimate.
The howls came again—closer this time—rolling across the barren land like knives dragged against stone. They were low, guttural sounds, layered with hunger rather than rage.
Ethan didn't move immediately.
He stood still, feet planted, eyes scanning the uneven terrain while his mind worked at a pace that had little to do with fear. Panic wasted energy. Energy was survival.
The sky above his territory was a deep, bruised red, streaked with slow-moving clouds that looked more like scars than weather. There was no visible sun, yet the light never dimmed. Shadows existed, but they were shallow and distorted, as if the world couldn't decide where they belonged.
Stability: Critical.
The warning pulsed faintly at the edge of his vision.
That mattered more than the howls.
A territory at critical stability was like an open wound. It attracted attention. Monsters. Beasts. Things that sensed weakness the way sharks sensed blood.
Ethan exhaled slowly and crouched, placing a hand against the cracked ground.
The land was cold.
Not naturally cold—compressed. Saturated with unfamiliar energy that resisted his touch, pushing back subtly as if acknowledging him but not yet accepting his authority.
"So it's like this," he murmured.
No welcome. No buffer period.
Just a test.
The movement at the edge of the territory became clearer.
Four shapes emerged from behind a jagged ridge—low-slung, lean bodies covered in coarse, ash-colored fur. Their eyes glowed faintly, reflecting the ambient light like dying embers.
Ashclaw Wolves.
Tier II Beasts, if the Alliance bestiaries were accurate. Pack hunters. Not the most dangerous predators in the Lord Dimension, but more than enough to tear apart an unprepared Lord in their first hour.
They circled slowly, claws scraping against stone, noses twitching as they tested the air.
Ethan straightened.
Running would be pointless. The boundary shimmered faintly behind him. Beyond it lay nothing he could access—not yet. Retreat meant abandoning the territory, and a fledgling territory without its Lord was nothing more than prey.
He adjusted his grip on the short spear at his side.
The weapon was unremarkable—simple alloy shaft, reinforced tip, no inscriptions or enhancements. House Vale had provided it as part of the standard awakening kit.
Nothing more.
That was fine.
The wolves lunged.
Not all at once.
Two rushed from the front, jaws snapping, while the other pair flanked wide, paws barely making sound against the ground.
Ethan moved.
He stepped forward, not back, spear flashing as he thrust low and hard into the first wolf's shoulder joint. The tip punched through muscle and bone with a wet crunch. The beast yelped, momentum carrying it past him as it collapsed in a spray of dust and blood.
Before the others could adjust, Ethan pivoted, dragging the spear free and using the shaft to deflect a snapping jaw. He kicked out sharply, heel connecting with the second
wolf's skull.
It staggered.
Not dead.
Too shallow.
Ethan didn't chase the kill.
He retreated three steps, forcing the pack to reorient, eyes flicking to the wounded beast now dragging itself away, blood darkening the stone beneath it.
The pack hesitated.
Good.
Hesitation meant opportunity.
The flanking wolves moved again—faster this time.
Ethan waited until the last possible second before lunging toward the wounded one instead.
The spear pierced its throat cleanly.
The wolf convulsed once, then went still.
The moment its life ended, the world responded.
A pulse rippled outward from the corpse—subtle, almost imperceptible.
Then—
Extraction available.
The notification appeared without sound.
Ethan didn't look away from the remaining wolves.
They snarled, low and uncertain now. One took a step back.
Predators understood loss.
Ethan spoke quietly, more to test the system than to provoke the beasts.
"Extract."
The dead wolf's body dissolved.
Not explosively. Not dramatically.
It broke apart into fine particles of light, as if its physical form had been unmade piece by piece. The glow condensed, then separated into several distinct fragments that hovered briefly before drifting toward Ethan.
Extraction Result:
•Ashclaw Beast Meat ×3
• Energy Fragment (Low)
• Ashclaw Hide ×1
• Beast Bone Shard ×2
No fanfare.
No surge of power.
Just… value.
The fragments sank into Ethan's body and inventory interface seamlessly. He felt a faint warmth spread through his core—not enough to be called strength, but enough to confirm the system wasn't lying.
The wolves backed away.
One turned and fled.
The other lingered for half a heartbeat longer, eyes locked on Ethan—then retreated as well, melting back into the broken terrain.
Silence returned.
Ethan remained where he was for several seconds, spear still raised, breathing steady.
Then he lowered the weapon.
"So it works," he said.
Extraction wasn't a combat ability.
It didn't kill for him. It didn't protect him.
It simply ensured that nothing died without consequence.
That alone changed everything.
He walked to the center of his territory, eyes scanning the land with renewed clarity. The ground here was uneven, fractured by shallow fissures that leaked faint traces of energy. Sparse mineral veins glimmered beneath the surface—nothing valuable yet, but promising.
The territory was small. Barely large enough to establish a perimeter without spreading himself thin.
Which meant the next step was obvious.
He needed people.
The Summoning Gate was already present—an unassuming stone arch half-buried in the earth, its surface etched with inactive runes. It was the only structure guaranteed to every new Lord.
Ethan approached it and placed his hand against the cold stone.
The runes lit up.
Daily Summon Available.
Summon Count: 1
He hesitated only briefly.
Summoning too early meant responsibility. Protection. Feeding another mouth when resources were scarce.
But delaying meant stagnation.
"Summon," he said.
Light spilled from the gate, coalescing into a humanoid shape. The process took longer than Ethan expected—nearly a full minute—before the glow faded and a young man collapsed onto the ground, coughing.
He was human.
Thin. Dark-haired. No armor, no weapon, wearing simple, worn clothing.
A faint thread of light connected him to Ethan, pulsing softly.
Subject Summoned.
Race: Human
Loyalty: 62%
The man looked up slowly, eyes wide with confusion and fear.
"L-Lord…?" he whispered.
Ethan knelt, meeting his gaze.
"My name is Ethan," he said calmly. "You're safe—for now. Can you stand?"
The man nodded shakily and pushed himself up.
"Y-Yes. I think so."
Ethan glanced at the horizon, then back at the territory boundary.
The wolves would return.
Or something worse would take their place.
But now, he wasn't alone.
"Good," Ethan said. "Because we don't have much time."
As if in agreement, the territory shuddered faintly beneath their feet.
Stability: Critical → Unstable
The land demanded action.
Ethan tightened his grip on the spear and turned toward the broken ridgeline where the wolves had vanished.
Low potential or not, the Lord Dimension had already made one thing clear:
Survival was not optional.
And nothing here came without a price.