Thiriel remained motionless at the edge of the forest, observing the tracks that marked the mud along the bank.
The hooves had left deep furrows, much larger than those of any domestic pig. Some of the tracks showed additional marks: short claws extending from the main hooves, an adaptation that only magic beasts developed to improve their traction on difficult terrain.
Forest boars, he confirmed mentally. At least four or five, judging by the variety of sizes in the tracks.
The combat with the shadow wolves still resonated in his muscles. It wasn't exactly pain, but a persistent fatigue that reminded him his body was not yet fully recovered. He had used the Magic Warrior Aura at only twenty percent, but even that had left its mark.
I should be more careful, he thought as he analyzed the terrain. A direct confrontation against an entire pack could push me too far.
The river split the landscape in two. To his left, the forest continued, dense and dark. To his right, a meadow of tall grass stretched toward distant hills. The boars likely used both territories: the forest for shelter, the meadow for feeding.
If I ambush them near the water, I'll have the advantage, he calculated. The terrain limits their escape options. I can separate them and take them down one by one.
He began moving upstream, staying within the tree line to avoid detection. The vibrations in the ground grew stronger with every step. The pack was close.
Two hundred meters. One hundred and fifty. One hundred.
Then he saw them.
Six boars were drinking in a shallow pool where the river formed a natural backwater. The largest was the size of a calf, with curved tusks protruding from its lower jaw like ivory daggers. Its fur was dark brown, almost black, with a crest of bristly hair along its back.
The other five were smaller, likely offspring from the previous season. Even so, each was large enough to kill a man if it charged.
Thiriel studied their positions, looking for the best angle of attack.
The big one first, he decided. If I eliminate the leader, the others will panic.
He was about to move when something changed.
The boars raised their heads in unison. Their ears swiveled toward the forest on the other side of the river. The largest one grunted—a low, threatening sound that echoed against the rocks.
Thiriel frowned.
They didn't detect me, he thought. They're reacting to something else.
Then he heard it.
Howls.
Not one or two. Dozens.
From the opposite forest, a tide of shadows emerged. Shadow wolves, but not like the four he had killed before. This was a full pack: fifteen, twenty, perhaps more. They moved like a dark wave through the trees, their eyes glowing with an unnatural light.
And at the front of them all...
The Alpha.
It was nearly twice the size of the normal wolves. Its fur wasn't simply dark; it was absolute black, so deep it seemed to absorb the light around it. A white scar crossed its snout from the left eye to the jaw, and when it opened its mouth, its fangs were the size of daggers.
That is no low-rank wolf, Thiriel thought, eyes narrowing. That is at least mid-rank. Perhaps higher.
The boars reacted with panic. The leader squealed a warning, and the pack bolted toward the meadow, abandoning the water in a stampede of hooves and grunts.
The wolves pursued them.
Not all of them. The Alpha howled a command, and the pack split with military precision. Ten wolves went after the boars. The others stopped at the riverbank, forming a defensive semicircle around their leader.
And then the Alpha turned its head.
Its eyes—two points of yellow light in the middle of that absolute blackness—fixed directly on the spot where Thiriel was hidden.
It saw me.
There was no way it had detected him by scent; the wind was blowing in the opposite direction. There was no way it had heard him; Thiriel had made no sound. But somehow, the beast knew exactly where he was.
The Alpha howled.
Six wolves broke away from the main group and crossed the river in a matter of seconds. The water barely reached their chests, and they moved with a speed that left white trails behind them.
They're coming for me, Thiriel thought.
He didn't run.
He unsheathed his sword and took a step out of the tree line, letting himself be seen completely.
The wolves accelerated upon detecting their exposed prey. Their bodies became dark blurs devouring the distance. Thirty meters. Twenty. Ten.
Thiriel activated the Magic Warrior Aura at thirty percent.
The world slowed down.
Not literally, of course. But his reflexes sharpened to the point that every movement of the wolves became readable, predictable. He could see the tension in their hind legs before they leaped, the tilt of their heads before they bit.
The first wolf arrived with open jaws.
Thiriel didn't dodge. He advanced.
His sword described an upward arc that found the animal's throat before its teeth could close. Blood erupted like a dark fountain as the body passed beside him, already dead before hitting the ground.
The second and third wolves attacked simultaneously, one from each flank.
Thiriel spun, using the momentum of the movement to generate force. The blade cut horizontally, opening the side of the wolf on the left. Without stopping, he completed the turn and drove the point into the eye of the wolf on the right.
Three dead in four seconds.
The other three wolves hesitated. It wasn't exactly fear; magic beasts didn't feel fear like humans. It was confusion. Their instinct told them the prey should flee, not attack. That it should be weak, not lethal.
That moment of hesitation cost them dearly.
Thiriel gave them no time to recover. He leaped toward the nearest one, driving his sword into its back with a downward strike that split the spine. Before the body even hit the ground, he was already moving toward the next.
A clean cut. Another body.
The last wolf tried to flee.
I don't think so, Thiriel thought.
He channeled magic into his leg and propelled himself with a speed that exceeded what his body should allow. He reached the wolf in three strides and severed its hind legs in a single slash. The animal howled and collapsed. A final blow to the neck ended its suffering.
Silence.
Thiriel was breathing heavily, but not from exhaustion. It was the adrenaline of combat—that metallic taste in the mouth he had missed during weeks of convalescence.
Six wolves. Less than twenty seconds.
He looked toward the river.
The Alpha was watching him from the other bank.
It hadn't moved. It hadn't sent reinforcements. It simply... watched. Its yellow eyes showed no rage or fear. Only a cold, calculating evaluation.
Intelligent, Thiriel thought. Too intelligent for a normal beast.
The Alpha tilted its head slightly, as if making a decision.
Then it howled.
This howl was different. Longer. Deeper. It resonated in the air like distant thunder, making the trees and the river water vibrate.
The wolves pursuing the boars stopped. They turned. And they began to return.
It's calling the whole pack, Thiriel realized.
But not all of them answered the call. Only five wolves abandoned the hunt and ran back toward the river. The largest ones. The strongest ones.
The rest continued chasing the boars, but that didn't matter now.
The Alpha crossed the river with slow, deliberate steps. The water parted at its passage as if the current itself respected it. The five wolves it had summoned positioned themselves at its flanks, forming a perfect combat formation.
Thiriel evaluated the situation.
Six enemies. One of them clearly superior to any wolf he had faced so far. His body was at seventy percent, perhaps less after the recent combat. The Magic Warrior Aura consumed energy with every second it remained active.
The odds are not in my favor, he admitted.
But he didn't retreat.
Not because he was stupid. Not because he underestimated the enemy. But because in his previous life, he had learned a fundamental truth about combat: showing weakness before a predator only invites the attack.
The Alpha stopped ten meters away.
Close up, it was even more impressive. Its black fur absorbed the sunlight to the point that it looked like a hole in reality. The white scar on its face shone like a war mark. And its eyes...
Its eyes showed something Thiriel recognized.
Recognition.
It knows I'm not normal prey, he thought. It knows I'm dangerous.
The Alpha grunted. Not a grunt of threat, but something more like a declaration. A challenge.
Very well, thought Thiriel, adjusting his grip on his sword. If you want to fight, we'll fight.
The Magic Warrior Aura pulsed within him, ready to explode.
The five lesser wolves tensed, ready to attack at their leader's command.
And the Alpha took the first step.