Aris couldn't realize it yet, but in these empty lands, foxes hunted alone, fennecs came in small groups… but wolves—
Wolves came in packs.
So when he noticed that behind his initial prey there were fifty more of them, his heart tightened so hard it skipped a beat.
Even for the Mad Beast, that was far too many.
He had never faced a wolf before, so he didn't know their limits, nor their weaknesses. Having to fight fifty of them at once was basically signing his own death sentence. And Aris understood that very well.
When he stopped his reckless charge, he finally saw the gravity of his situation. A dozen—no, about fifty—beasts stood there, almost motionless, behind the rock where the first wolf had appeared — surely the pack's leader.
Their orange fur gleamed faintly, not the least bit discreet, exposing every one of them under the dim light.Their golden-amber eyes suddenly lit up, while the darkness hid their terrifying jaws.
To make things worse, the wind began to rise beneath the black clouds of the western lands. All around him, Aris could see the world darken, the shadows swallowing the wolves until they became part of the night itself.
Their fur faded away. Their shapes blended into the gloom. All that remained were their golden eyes — staring at the Mad Beast in perfect, eerie stillness.
Aris couldn't even speak. Couldn't make a sound. His whole body was frozen in shock. His mind tried to think, to find a solution…but the monster's flesh burning inside him made the madness rise, stopping him from thinking about anything except killing them all.
He wasn't capable of that. At least, he thought he wasn't.
When he finally managed to open his mouth, the pack — still unmoving until now — began to advance. Only their eyes shifted in the darkness, drawing closer toward the man holding his weapon.
Aris thought to himself,
"I've thrown myself into the wolf's jaws."
And then — everything went too fast.
Aris spun around the moment he realized the wolves had started to run.
In the darkness and the roaring wind, everything was a blur. He couldn't see, couldn't hear — the storm devoured every sound, every shape. So he ran only by instinct, relying on his remaining senses, almost useless in this chaos.
The best choice would've been to run without looking back, hoping those beasts would never catch him —but he wasn't a fool. He knew he had no real chance of outrunning them.
"Damn it… What are they even doing here? I didn't think I'd gone this deep into the lands. Usually, there's only one or two — I can handle that. But this... this is too many…"
Suddenly, Aris stopped talking. He felt a warm presence running beside him through the storm, the wind slashing at his face.
It didn't take long for him to understand it was a wolf. One had already caught up to him. Probably the pack's leader.
The instant he realized it, Aris leapt to the side without hesitation —and the move saved his life. In that very second, the wolf lunged straight for his throat.
Aris bent backward to avoid losing his head — or worse. But at that same instant, he felt another surge of burning heat right behind him, aiming for the back of his skull.
Panic took over. He straightened instantly, jumped forward, spinning on himself mid-air —and found himself once again face to face with the pack.
"Shit."
Obviously, not the best position to be in.Through the roaring storm, he realized that several wolves had already surrounded him —he was trapped, right in the middle of the pack.
Golden eyes gleamed all around him as the wind howled louder, the storm turning violent. The wolves stood firm on their paws, tightening the circle little by little.
Even for a king, this was the most terrifying sight Aris had ever faced in his life. Surrounded by death, fifty beasts stared at him like demons. He, half-insane, could barely tell himself apart from them anymore.
His instincts screamed at him to flee. But the monster's flesh inside him whispered to devour. It was irrational, mindless — but that's what a beast was.There was no logic, no precision. Only carnage — from one side or the other.
And even knowing that, Aris also knew one thing :he had to move. He had to move now.
So he did.
The moment the circle tightened too much, Aris vanished in a blur — knife in hand —darting toward the first wolf in his line of sight.
The others moved instantly, unbothered by his speed —as if the Mad Beast's quickness didn't impress them at all. If anything, they seemed just as fast, closing in from every side in the same split-second.
In a flash, Aris was suspended mid-air — knife in his right hand —surrounded less than a meter away by a dozen wolves, jaws already wide open to tear him apart. And in front of him — one wolf, fangs bared, watching him closely, and above all…
A face filled with the rage to live.
For the first time in a long while, Aris didn't want to win or slaughter cruelly. He wanted to survive — like a rabid dog.
Back to the first day in the gray desert, when even the fennecs tried to eat his flesh.
Nothing had really changed.
He was still the same Aris fighting to survive. The same man who had lost his kingdom.The same one who had starved.The same one who longed for revenge.The same man who carried enough hatred to devour the world.
He was still that same man. He hadn't changed.
And in that second, he was about to feel it again —what it meant to be devoured… from every side.
Then that second began, and everything happened very fast afterward.
Aris tried a slanted strike, which the targeted wolf narrowly dodged without much difficulty, simply stepping back.
Then, in a single leap, Aris tried to push off the ground for another jump, but was immediately stopped by a wolf crashing into him from the side. He staggered violently, bumping into two other wolves caught by surprise.
Another beast came out of nowhere in that same instant, jaws open, ready to devour Aris's head — but he reacted instinctively and drove his knife straight into its skull, sending blood spurting a meter high.
The last thing the beast saw was the enraged face of the Mad Beast staring right into its eyes with pure fury.
But as soon as that one collapsed, another came from behind — and two more from the sides.
Aris was in trouble, because the wolves weren't as light as the fennecs; they couldn't be pushed away with a simple kick. The space around him was so tight he could barely stand, pinned between two beasts thrashing like demons behind his back.
The beast in front of him took a clean hook right in the jaw, and though that would've almost killed a fennec, the creature didn't even flinch — it refocused on its target almost instantly.
As the one on his right lunged dangerously for his arm, the one on the left had already bitten deep into it.
Aris screamed in pain, but he didn't have time to give in. He had only killed one beast out of fifty, and his left arm was being torn apart.
He clenched his teeth and spun toward the wolf biting his arm, grabbed its throat, and crushed it in his hand — all while dodging another charging him in the same instant.
The beast didn't even release his arm under the threat. It stared with furious eyes at his bleeding flesh while Aris's pain only grew stronger.
Then, as another wolf rushed him, he kicked it in the face — and in that same moment, another bit deep into his extended leg.
"HAAAAA!"
Aris screamed. He screamed again and again as his flesh was ripped apart.
The beast biting his arm refused to let go, so he stabbed it violently at the back of the neck. But even in death, it didn't release its grip — its jaws remained locked on Aris's arm as he tried to reject every trace of pain and weakness.
His leg, still in another wolf's jaws, was bleeding heavily, and another was already charging… then a second… then a third…
Aris looked around, trying to find any escape route. But all he could see were beasts. Golden-amber eyes haunted the place, and the world grew darker and darker.
Blood was pouring from his leg and arm. The beasts were growing fiercer and fiercer. He was losing. Losing his life…
"I… I… I'm sorry, Arkis… I'm sorry, Ana…"
And just as a third beast came for his side, Aris caught sight, in that final moment, of a small orange-furred ball biting, like a child, at the paw of a wolf…