The wolf moved like a shadow given flesh—silent, swift, unstoppable. One moment, its crimson eyes burned in the dark. The next, it was already upon him.
The impact threw him back, claws raking across his chest. Pain burst like fire through his nerves. He rolled, barely avoiding fangs snapping where his throat had been. Stone cracked under the beast's weight, claws gouging deep scars into the ground.
He staggered to his feet, black flame leaking from his hands, every breath ragged. His heart pounded with fear—but beneath it, something darker beat louder.
Hunger.
The Codex pulsed inside him, its whispers sharp as blades:
"High-grade essence confirmed. Consume. Fuse. Ascend."
The prince spat blood and raised his claws. Easier said than done.
The wolf circled, its gaze never leaving him. A predator's patience. A predator's certainty. It was not attacking to test him—it was playing with him, savoring the hunt.
The old shame clawed at his chest. He remembered the jeers of his siblings: "Too weak. Too slow. Unfit for a throne. Unfit even to live."
And now here he stood, fighting for survival against something that embodied everything they said he wasn't. Strong. Ruthless. Chosen by nature itself to survive.
The wolf lunged again. He met it with fire, black flames roaring around his claws. They clashed in a storm of sparks and embers, beast and exile locked in a savage dance. Each strike rattled his bones, each dodge shaved seconds from his endurance.
He could not win by strength alone.
The Codex's voice grew louder, insistent:
"Fuse. Claim its blood. Become more."
"No—" he hissed through gritted teeth, barely ducking another swipe. "If I lose myself…"
The Codex's laughter echoed like iron chains breaking:
"You are already lost. Only hunger will keep you alive."
The wolf's jaws clamped around his arm. Pain exploded white-hot. He screamed, forcing black fire into the wound, searing flesh and fur alike. The beast howled, recoiling, smoke rising from its maw. His arm trembled, half-burned, blood pouring.
"Damn it…" His knees buckled. He could feel his strength slipping away. The wolf was already preparing its next strike.
And then—
"Prince!" Lira's voice.
She hurled her dagger, the blade glinting under moonlight. It barely grazed the wolf's eye, but the beast snarled and flinched, just enough for him to stagger upright.
Lira rushed to his side, her hands trembling, her face pale. "You can't win like this—you'll die!"
Her presence struck him like another wound. He wanted to scream at her to run, to flee while she could. But she stood there anyway, eyes burning with the same defiance that had kept her alive this long.
The wolf prowled closer again, enraged, its fangs dripping blood and fire.
And he understood. He couldn't run. Not anymore.
If he ran now, he'd be nothing more than the cripple they said he was. If he failed, she'd die beside him. If he hesitated, the Codex would consume him piece by piece until nothing human remained.
There was only one choice.
He pressed his bloodied palm against his chest. The Codex's runes ignited across his veins, black light spilling through his skin.
"I accept," he whispered.
The Codex surged, its voice thunderous:
"Bloodline Fusion—initiated."
The world tore open inside him.
His body convulsed, fire and ice coursing through every nerve. His blood boiled, his bones cracked. His scream filled the night, half-human, half-something else. Black fire exploded outward, mingling with the wolf's essence as the Codex dragged it into him.
For a moment, he saw visions—not with his eyes, but with something deeper. Running through forests on four legs. Tearing prey apart with fangs. The endless hunger of a predator who knew nothing but survival. The wolf's soul pressed against his, fangs sinking into his spirit.
He snarled back—not as prey, but as rival.
Their essences collided, clawing at each other, until the Codex forced them together in a violent fusion.
The beast's howl became his own. His claws lengthened, sharper, darker. His wounds closed with unnatural speed. His vision sharpened—he could see every detail, every heartbeat, every twitch of the wolf's muscles. His chest burned with a new rhythm: regeneration pulsing like a second heartbeat.
But it came with pain—unimaginable pain. Horns sprouted from his skull, twisting, forcing through flesh. His skin split, black lines crawling like living veins. For a moment, he felt his sanity slipping, his thoughts drowned in primal instinct.
Kill. Devour. Rule.
He fell to his knees, gripping his head, fangs bared. He could hear Lira's voice faint in the distance, panicked, pleading.
"Prince—don't lose yourself! Fight it!"
Her words cut through the haze. Not chains, but a lifeline.
With a roar, he forced the madness back, shoving the beast's instinct deep inside him. His breath came ragged, his body shuddering, but he still stood.
The wolf before him froze, sensing the shift. It saw not prey, not even rival—but reflection. Its crimson eyes widened, as though staring into its own soul now burning in another body.
He bared his new fangs and stepped forward, his voice low, trembling with rage and triumph.
"You're mine now."
The Codex whispered, satisfied:
"Fusion complete. Essence secured. Regeneration acquired. Predatory adaptation—unlocked."
The wolf lunged once more, desperate, but he met it head-on. His claws tore through fur and bone as if cutting water. The beast shrieked, its body convulsing before collapsing into ash, its bloodline already his.
Silence fell. The night air smelled of iron and smoke.
He stood over the ashes, chest heaving, horns glistening in the moonlight. The pain still burned, his body writhing with unstable mutation, but his heart… his heart beat stronger than ever.
Lira approached slowly, her voice trembling. "What… have you become?"
He looked down at his bloodstained hands, claws dripping, veins glowing faintly with the Codex's sigils. His lips curled into something between a snarl and a smile.
"…Something they should never have cast aside."
But even as he said it, he felt the danger lurking beneath. His body was no longer fully his own. The line between man and monster had begun to blur.
And in the shadows of his mind, the Codex whispered with dark delight:
"More. You must devour more."
The night did not end with the wolf's death.
When its ashes scattered into the wind, something remained—a residue, thick as tar, coiling like smoke around him. The Codex drank it greedily, every tendril sinking into his veins. For a heartbeat, he thought it was over. The power had been claimed. The beast had fallen.
But then his chest seized.
His knees hit the ground, claws digging into the dirt. His horns pulsed, stretching further, ridges carving themselves into his skull with sickening cracks. Black fire bled from his pores in violent bursts, searing the air, twisting his shadow into shapes not his own.
"Prince!" Lira's voice cut through the chaos, but her words only reached him as distant echoes. He could barely see her. His eyes burned with two visions—one human, one beast. One saw the world as lines and forms; the other saw it in heartbeats and heat, prey and predator. The two perspectives clashed, grinding against each other until blood dripped from his nose.
The Codex's voice filled his skull, triumphant and merciless:
"Do not resist. The wolf is yours—its hunger is yours. Fuse completely. Become what you were meant to be."
"No…" He gasped, claws raking across his own chest as if to tear the voices out. "I… won't…"
But the wolf's essence surged within him like a tide, drowning his resistance. His heart hammered, too fast, too strong, every beat echoing with alien rhythm. His mouth filled with the taste of iron. He opened his eyes—two glowing crimson orbs stared back from a puddle of his own blood.
And for a terrifying moment, he no longer knew whose eyes they were.
Lira dropped to her knees beside him, reaching for his shoulders. "Fight it! You're still you!"
Her hands pressed against his burning skin, but she did not recoil. She grit her teeth against the heat, shaking him as though sheer will could anchor his soul. "You told me betrayal means death—then don't betray yourself! Don't give in!"
Her words stabbed through the haze, not gentle but fierce, alive with the kind of loyalty he had never asked for but could no longer ignore.
He roared, half in rage, half in agony. Black fire burst outward, nearly flinging her back, yet she held on. His claws twitched toward her throat, instinct screaming to strike, to silence, to devour. His vision narrowed until she was all he saw: fragile, trembling, but unyielding.
Prey, the beast whispered.
Ally, something human whispered back.
And between those two voices, he found a sliver of choice.
He slammed his claws into the ground beside her, earth shattering, his breath ragged as he forced the wolf's hunger down. His horns stopped their growth mid-curve, leaving them jagged, incomplete. The black lines across his skin dimmed, retreating like smoldering embers.
Slowly, painfully, he wrestled himself back from the brink.
The Codex hissed in displeasure, its tone like rust scraping across steel:
"Fool. You deny evolution. You deny perfection."
"I deny… becoming a beast," he snarled between ragged breaths.
The whispers retreated, though not silenced, curling deeper into his bones like snakes biding their time. The hunger lingered—throbbing, insatiable—but for now, it was caged.
He collapsed forward, his forehead pressing into the dirt. The strength in his limbs drained away, leaving only tremors and shallow gasps. Blood seeped from the cracks in his skin, steaming faintly before vanishing into the Codex's glow.
Lira knelt beside him, her hands hovering, afraid to touch yet unwilling to let go. "You… you're bleeding inside and out," she whispered. "But you held on."
He wanted to laugh, to tell her he hadn't held on—he'd nearly drowned. That a single word, a single heartbeat slower, and her blood would already stain his claws.
Instead, he said nothing. Because her gaze—steady, frightened, but still fixed on him—burned hotter than any flame.
Minutes stretched into eternity. Slowly, the tremors in his body eased. His claws retracted, his horns dulled back to jagged stubs. His breath steadied, though each inhale still carried a rasp like an animal's growl.
When he finally pushed himself upright, his body screamed with pain. But underneath the pain was something new. His wounds, torn deep by the wolf's fangs, were already knitting closed. His vision remained sharper, his hearing keener. His body felt heavier, stronger.
And yet his reflection in the blood-stained earth revealed the truth.
His eyes still glowed faintly crimson. His smile curved too sharp, his fangs too long. He was no longer fully prince, nor fully demon. Something else had been born inside him.
Something dangerous.
The silence that followed was fragile. Only the rustling of the wind and the distant cries of night beasts filled the void.
Finally, Lira spoke. Her voice trembled, but not with fear—at least, not only fear.
"What will you do now?"
He lifted his gaze to the moon, its cold light spilling over his scarred form. His claws flexed unconsciously, the Codex humming with restless hunger beneath his skin.
"…I'll keep walking," he said at last. "Because if I stop, this thing inside me wins."
Lira nodded, swallowing hard, then rose to her feet. She didn't ask for reassurance. She didn't demand promises. She simply stepped beside him, as if his path was already hers.
And together, they left the ashes of the wolf behind.
But in the shadows of his heart, the Codex whispered one last time, soft as silk, cruel as truth:
"This is only the beginning."
Cliffhanger: His regeneration surges too fast that night, twisting his dreams into visions of fangs, blood, and endless forests. When he wakes, the horns on his head have grown sharper. The wolf's hunger may not have been consumed after all—it may simply be waiting.