I thought I did. I was sure of it. The snarls, the tearing pain, the world dissolving into black… I died. But then, I opened my eyes. My clothes were tattered, yet without a single blemish. I stood up, my limbs suddenly light, my mind reeling. How was I alive? What was going on? A guttural, uncontrollable retch tore from my throat as vivid, horrifying flashes of my demise assaulted me – the snapping jaws, the blinding pain. I pushed myself to run, but one of the wolves, as if sensing my terror, noticed my movement. I could have sworn a smirk flickered across its snout, and a chilling thought echoed in my mind: Feast.
I scrambled to take flight, but again, the hungry wolves were upon me. This time, they played. They stalked, they circled, they brought me down, waiting until I regenerated before tearing me apart over and over again. I died so many times I lost count. The cycle was a nightmare, each death a fresh agony, a new lesson in futility.
I was sick of dying. I had to fight back.
I woke again, and this time, I knew. There was no hesitation, no wasted movement. Immediately, I lunged for the makeshift bag where I'd hidden my knives. But even as my fingers grazed the rough fabric, the wolves were on me. I died before I could truly bring a weapon to bear, but it was all part of the plan. I had learned their speed, their attack patterns, the precise moment I needed.
I woke a third time, and this time, I was ready. The nearest wolf was a blur of gray and fang, but I moved faster. I went straight for its neck, the cold steel of my scavenged blade finding purchase. The other two were instantly on me, tearing at my limbs, but I didn't mind. My focus was absolute. This one, the one in my clutches, had to die.
With a final, desperate lunge, I buried the blade deep. A choked gurgle, a shuddering collapse. The moment its life ceased, the mark on my hand, the inexplicable -99%, flared with a searing white light. The dead wolf dissolved, not into blood, but into shimmering black smoke that swirled and was absorbed into my mark. The other two wolves, their eyes suddenly wide with something akin to terror, whimpered and retreated, vanishing into the shadows.
A strange warmth spread through me. My tattered clothes were still ripped, but the wounds on my body, the deep gashes and raw tears, knitted themselves shut with incredible speed. I felt it – a surge of strength, a sharpening of my senses, a newfound speed coursing through my veins. This wasn't just survival; it was evolution.
I turned to face the remaining two. The battle was long, brutal, a dance of death and regeneration, but in the end, I emerged victorious. The same phenomenon occurred: the black smoke, the absorption into my mark, the surge of power. This time, my senses sharpened even further, allowing me to perceive beyond the ordinary, to sense the presence of life and energy in a way I never had.
I walked into an empty, relatively intact house nearby. I found some old clothes, clean and serviceable, and changed out of my tattered rags. I checked for preserved food, finding enough to fill my small bag, and gathered a few more formidable knives from the kitchen. My journey to the tower resumed, but this time, I was cautious. Every shadow held a potential threat, every gust of wind carried a whisper.
Should I plunder these empty homes for money? A twisted smile played on my lips. Hahaha. Maybe the banks in the main city will have some cash and gold bars, a couple of jewels, haha. I walked with these thoughts, trying to distract myself from the bizarre, terrifying, exhilarating reality that had just consumed me.
I stopped by an empty building, checking its perimeter. It was clear. I entered, taking a moment to organize my thoughts. What had happened? My new found abilities: regeneration, apparent immortality, and... plundering, yes. Somehow, I simply knew my abilities, even without explanation.
As I began to settle, to rest my head for a moment, something entered my newly expanded sensory "radar." More wolves. This time, they weren't just threats. They were experimental subjects. All my life, the door to living a truly fulfilling life had seemed blurry, unreachable. But now, with these new abilities, I knew it. I could stand above all. I just had to move carefully, strategically.
I tore my newly acquired clothes, layering them with my own blood, then carefully hid them around the large, spacious house I had chosen – an ideal hunting spot. The wolves, relying on their acute sense of smell, went straight for the blood-soaked fabric. The more wolves I killed, the stronger I got, the sharper my senses became, and the thicker my killing intent grew. I thought I was in control, that I was the hunter. Until it stepped into my radar.
My senses went into disarray, a chaotic storm of warning signals. I knew, with absolute certainty, that I had to run or I'd die.
But, die? Smurf, I was immortal, wasn't I? I knew, somehow, something fundamental would change if I could kill this creature. But my knives would only be liabilities in this situation. It was just me and the huge wolf, five times my size, without any weapon. The wolf radiated pure rage; I had killed too many of its kin. Seeing its colossal form, its immense aura, I knew this was a king.
It stared at me, its eyes burning with primal fury, and in that moment, I knew there was no way I could take that down, even with all my knives. I stood, transfixed, as it ran towards me with full speed. After killing numerous wolves, my senses were at a level where they could follow its super-speed. It opened its cavernous mouth, a maw of razor-sharp teeth. I ran towards it, not away.
"Garrrrrrrrrh!"
I was split in two, the first half inside its belly, the other half on the floor. When fighting the first three wolves, I had experimented with my abilities, pushed their limits. I knew my regeneration stemmed from my blood, and that my consciousness didn't completely fade when I died; it scattered within the blood. My immortality was not yet perfect; things like fire that could evaporate blood, and ice that could freeze it, could still prove fatal.
Immediately, once inside the wolf king's mouth, I gathered my scattered consciousness within its very being and regenerated. No matter how strong, how monstrous it was, the wolf king was helpless against the rampage happening inside its own body. After a desperate, internal struggle, it died, and was absorbed by my mark. I noticed the mark had changed to -98%, but I was too busy to truly process it; there was a more pressing matter at hand.
The bastard wolf, in its dying throes, knew it couldn't survive. So, it ran with me in its stomach to a more dangerous place, a vast, echoing cave surrounded by hundreds of wolves, ensuring my demise. I steeled my resolve.
"I'm really going to die a lot," I muttered to myself, a self-pitying smile twisting my lips.
As I prepared to fight, my mark lit up again. I'd gained a new ability. Somehow, without explanation, I knew what it could do. And that knowledge made me even more certain: the wolf king had made a colossal mistake bringing me here.