Things should fall right into place.
I crouched silently in the shadows of the trees, the cool darkness wrapping around me like a cloak. From here, I had a clear view of the battlefield—my battlefield.
Days of silent labor, careful surveying, and architectural trickery had all led to this moment.
The wolves didn't know I was here. That was the first and most important change from how the original story played out.
Without a looming presence to warn them off, the direwolves behaved exactly as I'd predicted: cocky, efficient, and too used to winning.
"Awooooooooooo!"
And there it was—the Alpha's signal. Deep and primal, it echoed through the trees like a warhorn made of fury.
The pack moved in perfect synchronization, a dozen strong direwolves lunging toward the village perimeter with terrifying speed.
The wooden barricades we'd spent days building shuddered under the pressure of the first wave—but that wasn't what they were made for.
Those were just visual deterrents. Toothpicks painted like spears.
And there, standing alone at the village entrance, was Gobta.
...I'm sorry, Gobta. I needed bait. You'll survive. Probably.
From where I was, I could see the Alpha baring its teeth at him, muscles twitching, practically laughing at the idea that a single goblin stood in its way.
But of course, there was no real battle here.
This field had been mine before the wolves ever arrived.
The real defenses weren't the fences.
They were underneath.
The moment the wolves leapt, I raised my hand.
With a casual flick of my wrist—like I was waving away a fly—I gave the signal.
And the earth obeyed.
KRSSSSHHHH!!
The ground collapsed beneath the wolves with a deafening crack, the packed soil splitting open into controlled fault lines. Timber partitions, carefully buried and linked with reinforced iron threading, gave way in a precise sequence—like dominos falling beneath the surface.
The wolves had been mid-leap when it happened.
Now they were plummeting into sudden trenches, their formation shattered, their instincts hijacked by panic.
Their howls of surprise echoed as they crashed below—not into spikes, but into smooth, sloped pits that corralled them rather than killed them. Gobta nearly fell over from the wind pressure alone. His scream echoed somewhere between mortal terror and "is this a dream?"
"Checkmate."
I stepped out from the trees, shadow slipping off me like water, my boots touching the edge of the trench as I looked down at the snarling wolves.
They were trying to climb out—scratching, biting, jumping—but the earth sloped inward too steeply, and every surface they tried to cling to was just slickened wood and curved iron.
"You can stop struggling," I called calmly, voice carrying across the shocked silence. "...Unless you want me to make this your graves."
One of the goblins gasped from behind me. "He… collapsed the earth…"
No, I didn't.
I kept my eyes on the Alpha, who was glaring up at me with burning eyes and a trembling snout. A beast used to dominating by presence alone, now trapped in a pit like a common animal.
"I didn't need magic for this," I said, half to them and half to myself. "No barriers, no spells. Just metal… and architecture."
The goblins couldn't tell the difference.
To them, it might as well have been divine intervention. Who else but a Demon Lord in the making could rip open the land itself?
But to me, this was simple cause and effect.
Weeks ago, I'd buried interlocking wooden vaults beneath the earth, latticed with metal control rods. A minor tug of iron manipulation here, a bit of pressure redirected there—and the earth folded in exactly as I planned.
It wasn't magic. It was math.
It just so happened the world couldn't tell the difference.
The Alpha's eyes locked with mine, the realization beginning to form.
And then—it tried to run.
With a furious snarl, it turned on its heels and bolted back toward the forest, the rest of the pack instinctively following suit.
I sighed.
"Wrong move."
With a sharp snap of my fingers, the earth roared again.
KRRRAAAAAKK!
The soil behind them ruptured and fell away—another section of the buried partitions collapsing into yet another trench, cutting off any path of escape. Trees toppled, and dust surged into the air like a curtain falling over their failed retreat.
They skidded to a stop just before tumbling in, claws digging into loose dirt, eyes wide with panic.
I stepped forward, my voice calm, yet cold as winter steel.
"This world is ruled by power. You hunt the weak and bow to the strong."
I raised my hand and pointed to the snarling Alpha. "You have two choices now."
My voice dropped low, reverberating like the roll of thunder:
"Surrender to me. Or die like prey."
Silence.
Broken only by the heavy panting of beasts who just had their instincts shattered by fear.
The Alpha turned again, slower this time. It met my gaze.
Its eyes flicked between the pits surrounding it… and me, the only one standing above.
Then, reluctantly—but surely—it lowered its head. Not just in submission.
In defeat.
A slow hush fell over the field as the other wolves followed suit, bowing one by one.
I nodded, then stopped before the Alpha.
"Good," I said, raising my hand. "Then let us make this binding eternal."
The wind stilled.
The shadows writhed.
And my palm began to glow—a deep, molten crimson ringed with violet runes.
"[Dominion]."
The air screamed.
Dark tendrils of energy burst forth from my palm, wrapping around the Alpha's body like chains of midnight fire. It howled—violently, thrashing—until the magic sank deep into its flesh, glowing lines etching into its fur like a brand carved by the will of a god.
Its pupils dilated. Its body spasmed.
And then…
Silence.
The glow faded, and the Alpha collapsed to its knees.
From now on, its soul would be bound to my command. A pact not forged in trust—but submission.
"Rise," I said, voice like thunder from the deep.
The Alpha lifted its head slowly, eyes now faintly glowing with a dim red shimmer.
"Your name," I spoke, placing a hand upon its forehead, "shall be Fenral."
It didn't understand the word, but the magic did.
Fenral shuddered as power rippled through its form—his fur darkening, muscles coiling tighter, mana gathering like a storm.
A new beast was born.