The forest was still, too still. Noctis stood in the center of the clearing, Broodfang Reaper in his hands, helm tilted toward the tree line. Predator's Tremor Sense pulsed outward, the vibrations returning heavy, deliberate. Something larger stirred beyond the brush.
He waited.
The branches snapped, a low growl vibrating through the soil. A beast emerged—wolf-like but warped, its shoulders as high as a man, its fur armored with overlapping scales. Its jaws opened wide, fangs glistening with drool that smoked where it struck the ground. The Grid highlighted it instantly: stronger, heavier, its movements coordinated with instinctive cunning.
Perfect prey.
The creature lowered its head and charged.
Noctis shifted his grip.
[Weapon Form: Guan Dao]
The haft extended, the blade angled heavy. He stepped into the charge, driving the guan dao forward in a clean thrust.
The beast twisted, faster than expected, shoulder plates deflecting the stab. The blade scraped sparks against scale. The wolf lunged past, jaws snapping.
Noctis twisted the haft mid-motion.
[Weapon Switch: Scythe]
The blade rotated outward into a crescent, edge trailing venom. The beast thought itself safe, lunging beyond the thrust. Instead, the scythe blade curved backward, hooking into its exposed flank. Noctis pulled, the edge carving deep from behind, ichor spraying.
The wolf shrieked, body jerking sideways. Surprise flared in its movements—the dodge had become its undoing.
Noctis didn't pause.
The weapon folded again.
[Weapon Switch: Sword]
Straightened into a crimson greatsword, the Broodfang Reaper came down in a vertical strike. The wolf rolled, barely evading the downward cleave, the blade cutting a trench into the soil.
It sprang up, jaws snapping toward his throat.
[Skill: Wraith Step]
He blurred, the wolf's bite closing on shadow. Noctis reappeared at its side, greatsword already drilling forward.
[Skill: Helix Fang Drill]
The blade spun, screaming as it bit into the wolf's plated shoulder. Armor cracked, ichor sprayed in a spiral. The beast roared, thrashing wildly, but the drill tore deeper, lodging through muscle.
It kicked hard, knocking him back. Noctis slid across the soil, boots grinding, the blade tearing free in a spray of black.
The wolf crouched, one leg trembling but still full of fight. Its growl rattled the trees.
Noctis raised the Reaper again. His voice was low. "Sword. Scythe. Guan dao. You cannot read what you do not understand."
The wolf lunged again.
Noctis met it head-on, weapon shifting in a blur. Guan dao thrust forward—missed as the wolf twisted. Instantly, the blade curved into scythe form, hooking the beast's neck. Noctis pulled, forcing its head sideways, exposing its throat. The weapon snapped again into sword form, blade straightening, and he drove it clean through the exposed gap.
The wolf convulsed once, twice, then collapsed, ichor flooding the soil. Its corpse dissolved into mist, absorbed by the Grid.
But more tremors approached.
Noctis turned. From the tree line, two more beasts emerged, larger than the first, their movements coordinated. One circled left, the other right, their growls low, calculating.
Noctis's helm tilted. The Reaper pulsed in his grip.
They charged together.
He stepped forward, guan dao extended. The first wolf dodged wide—exactly as expected. The weapon snapped into scythe form mid-motion, catching its side, dragging it close. He pivoted, snapping into sword form, blade drilling through its chest before it could react. The corpse dissolved instantly.
The second wolf lunged from behind, jaws wide.
[Skill: Ghost Vein III]
Phantoms split from him, each holding mirrored Reapers. One clone swept wide in scythe form, another thrust with guan dao reach. The wolf dodged one, then two—only to take Noctis's own greatsword straight through its ribs as the real strike followed.
The beast shrieked, thrashing in disbelief. The blade twisted into scythe form again inside its body, tearing free in a spray of ichor.
Both corpses dissolved, mist streaming into him. The clearing fell quiet once more.
Noctis rotated the weapon through its forms—scythe, sword, guan dao—each shift seamless, doctrine folding into doctrine, strike into strike. The prey had been strong, coordinated, adaptive. It hadn't mattered.
The Grid pulsed brighter with satisfaction. The Broodfang Reaper's triple nature was no longer theory. It was dominance.
Noctis planted the haft into the soil, ichor steaming from its blade. His helm tilted toward the forest, where more tremors echoed in the distance. Stronger prey still waited.
He smiled. "Good. Let them come."
The forest vibrated. Predator's Tremor Sense pulsed outward and returned with chaos—dozens of heavy beats, each claw gouging earth. The armored wolves were coming, not lone hunters, but a full pack.
Noctis stood in the clearing, Broodfang Reaper in hand, helm tilted, his Grid already mapping their approach. The air was thick with their musk: iron, musk, and blood. His grip tightened. The weapon pulsed in agreement.
They broke from the tree line as one.
Wolves the size of horses, shoulders armored with scaled plates, fangs smoking as they snarled. Their eyes glowed faint yellow in the dark. They fanned into a circle, cutting off escape. Dozens. The ground shook beneath their coordinated steps.
Noctis chuckled under his helm. "Good."
The first lunged.
[Weapon Form: Guan Dao]
The haft extended, blade angled forward. He stepped in and stabbed. The point rammed through the wolf's chest, piercing plate and muscle. He twisted, pulling the weapon free in a clean arc. Another lunged from the left.
He pivoted, guan dao sweeping low.
[Skill: Sweeping Arc]
The blade sliced through two wolves at once, their legs collapsing as ichor sprayed. Their bodies dissolved into mist before hitting the dirt.
The circle closed.
[Weapon Switch: Scythe]
The Reaper curved outward, double crescents hissing as venom trailed. Noctis spun, full-body rotation.
[Skill: Bloodstorm III]
A circle of crimson and venom erupted, the scythe's blades cutting a storm through half the pack. Wolves shrieked, bodies ripped apart in sprays of black, mist rushing back into him.
But the survivors adapted. Three lunged at once, one from behind.
Noctis blurred.
[Skill: Wraith Step]
He vanished, reappearing in their midst. The scythe snapped inward.
[Weapon Switch: Sword]
The straight greatsword hammered down, bisecting a wolf from head to tail. He spun, blade drilling forward.
[Skill: Helix Fang Drill]
The spiraling blade tore through another wolf's armored flank, shredding scale and bone. The third wolf lunged, jaws snapping. Noctis pulled the blade free, twisted back—
[Weapon Switch: Guan Dao]
The haft extended mid-spin, blade catching the wolf under its jaw. He wrenched upward, snapping its head aside in a spray of ichor.
He kept moving.
Hack. Slash. Pivot. Stab.
His battle style had become a rhythm—hack-and-slash refined by doctrine. The guan dao thrusts punctuated the pack's circle, stabbing at angles, creating gaps. The scythe swept wide in high-speed rotations, carving arcs that felled three or four at a time. The sword cut clean, direct, brutal in close combat. Every shift of form was unpredictable, the Grid adapting tempo with each transformation.
Dozens became half. Half became fewer. The soil turned black with ichor, mist rising in constant streams back into him.
But then the forest roared.
A deeper tremor shook the ground. He felt it before he saw it. Heavy. Purposeful. Commanding.
The wolves parted.
From the trees emerged the Alpha.
Larger than the rest by half, its body plated in thick scale like a living fortress. Its fangs glowed faint red, dripping ichor that hissed on impact. Its eyes blazed crimson, and its growl shook the air. The pack lowered their heads as it stepped forward, the forest itself seeming to bow.
Noctis tilted his helm, lifting the Reaper to rest across his shoulder. "Finally."
The Alpha lowered itself, claws gouging deep trenches in the soil. Its muscles bunched. Then it charged.
The clearing quaked as the leader of the Iron Fang pack hurled itself straight at him.
Noctis smiled beneath the mask.
He shifted his grip. "Come, then."
The Alpha's charge ripped the clearing apart. Trees bent in its wake, soil burst under its claws, and its roar thundered like an avalanche. Noctis lowered his stance, Broodfang Reaper pulsing in his grip, helm tilted to track every tremor.
Impact came.
The Alpha slammed down with both claws, soil exploding upward. Noctis blurred aside, [Wraith Step] trailing a phantom where he had stood. His guan dao shot forward, blade piercing like a spear. The Alpha twisted, scales deflecting the thrust with a shriek of sparks.
The beast lunged again. Noctis twisted the haft—
[Weapon Switch: Scythe]
The blade curved, sweeping in a wide arc. The Alpha ducked low, snapping jaws clamping onto the haft itself. Fangs scraped against venom-lined broodsteel but could not pierce it. Noctis snarled, twisting his weight, dragging the scythe backward.
The Alpha released and countered with its tail, a whip-like strike plated with armor. It slammed across Noctis's chest, hurling him into a tree. The trunk shattered, splinters raining as he rose again, helm tilting. The blow hadn't broken him—but it proved the Alpha's strength was monstrous.
"Good," he muttered.
The wolf howled, the pack's remnants echoing faint in the distance. Its red eyes blazed, its scales glowing faintly from within like hot iron. This was no ordinary beast. It was a sovereign in its own right.
Noctis charged.
[Weapon Switch: Sword]
The Reaper collapsed into a greatsword, veins glowing crimson. He swung in a brutal downward strike.
[Skill: Helix Fang Drill]
The blade spun as it connected, screeching against the Alpha's shoulder plate. Scales cracked but did not break. Sparks burst. The wolf roared and snapped sideways, fangs barely missing Noctis's throat.
He shifted again.
[Weapon Switch: Guan Dao]
The haft extended, blade angling forward. He drove it low, stabbing for the wolf's underbelly. The Alpha leapt backward, claws gouging deep trenches into the dirt. It circled, fast despite its size.
Noctis followed, spinning the weapon into scythe form. He whirled, [Bloodstorm III] erupting in a circle. Venom and crimson energy tore through the clearing, carving deep gashes into the wolf's flank. It roared, ichor spraying—but the armor still held most of the blow.
Noctis paused, watching. The Grid pulsed data across his sight. The Alpha's armor was thickest along shoulders, chest, and back. Its legs were covered, but joints glowed faintly weaker. The underbelly—vulnerable, but guarded by speed.
He smiled. "Then I'll take what you hide."
The Alpha lunged again, claws raised. Noctis vanished.
[Skill: Ghost Vein III]
Afterimages split, each wielding a form of the Reaper. One clone struck with a sword, another stabbed with guan dao, a third swept scythe arcs. The Alpha tore through two phantoms, but the third's strike bit into its hind leg joint. It snarled, staggering.
Noctis reappeared above, greatsword raised.
[Skill: Exsanguinate II]
Blood spikes erupted from the ground, skewering the Alpha's legs. They slowed it, drawing ichor, pinning it long enough for Noctis to land. His blade screamed into a Helix Drill, stabbing into its flank. The armor cracked. Black ichor sprayed.
The Alpha bucked wildly, breaking the spikes, throwing him off. Noctis rolled, soil tearing under his boots. The beast snarled, furious, wounded but alive.
They clashed again. Guan dao thrusts stabbed, scythe hooks pulled, sword drills tore. The Alpha countered with claws, tail, and fangs. Soil split, trees fell, ichor sprayed in black arcs. The battle became a storm of steel and scale, hack-and-slash weaving into doctrine flows.
Then the Alpha made its mistake.
It lunged low, jaws wide, aiming for his leg. Noctis twisted, guan dao stabbing forward, missing its throat—but the haft locked its head aside. The wolf thought itself free, twisting to recover.
He shifted.
[Weapon Switch: Scythe → Sword]
The blade rotated, collapsing into a greatsword. He brought it down in a cruel arc—straight into the Alpha's rear, just above the tail. The steel rammed deep into the only gap unarmored.
The beast howled, convulsing. Noctis snarled, driving his weight forward.
He whispered through clenched teeth. "No rules for prey."
He stomped, forcing the blade deeper—straight through the beast's backside. Then he ripped downward. The greatsword tore through its guts, splitting stomach, organs, and ichor in a torrent. The Alpha screamed, legs thrashing, before collapsing in a heap.
Noctis yanked the blade free as the body split apart, dissolving into black mist sucked into his Grid. The clearing fell silent again. Only the hiss of dissolving ichor remained.
He straightened, helm tilting, Broodfang Reaper resting across his shoulder. Another Alpha slain. Another throne devoured.
The clearing was a graveyard. Wolves lay strewn across the soil in heaps, black ichor soaking into the dirt, steaming in the cold night. The Alpha's massive corpse sprawled at the center, its armored scales cracked where Noctis had split it open.
Noctis stood among them, Broodfang Reaper dripping, helm tilted. The Grid pulsed bright in his vision, nodes vibrating with hunger. The air tasted rich, swollen with essence waiting to be claimed.
He raised his claw.
[Skill: Blood Field III — Brood Infusion]
Crimson mist erupted outward, filling the clearing. The corpses dissolved in unison—fangs, scales, armor, flesh—reduced to smoke that rushed inward. Wolves screamed faintly as their souls broke down, essence flooding into him. The Alpha's body convulsed once as the field stripped it to ash, its strength unwillingly offered into the Grid.
The surge nearly staggered him. Power slammed through his veins, burning like fire, coiling like iron cables. The lattice flared across his sight, new nodes flashing open. Soldier's Edge, Spearwarden's Path, and the Beast branch all swelled brighter. The Broodmother's Legacy pulsed in resonance, its venom veins weaving into new forms.
His body thickened under the flood. Muscles hardened, reflexes sharpened, senses stretched until the entire forest throbbed with detail: the scuttle of beetles under roots, the beating of wings high above, the crackle of branches kilometers away.
The Grid adapted instantly.
Alpha's Dominance fused deeper into his aura. Now the forest seemed to bow outright. Smaller beasts froze at the edges of his Perception and fled before they could even see him.
Iron Fang Rend pulsed in his claws and weapon edge. Each strike now carried fracture-force designed to shatter plate and scale.
Packbane linked itself to his hack-and-slash rhythm—every time he fought groups, each strike grew sharper, faster, hungrier.
The Reaper pulsed in his hand, its blade veins glowing faint crimson, adapting to the feast like it, too, had devoured the Alpha.
When the last body dissolved, silence fell again. The clearing was empty—no corpses, no wolves, not even bones. Only mist curling back into him, vanishing into the Grid's infinite web.
Noctis exhaled, helm lowering. He had tested his weapon. He had tested his doctrines. And he had broken a sovereign beast in its own domain.
But the horizon was pale now. The sky was bleeding gray, dawn stirring. The light pressed faint through the forest canopy. He tilted his helm upward, lips curling.
He would not linger.
The forest belonged to him now, but the sun was rising. His body still hated the day. Even sealed armor would not change that truth. Better to return to shadow, to wait, to plan the next move.
He turned from the empty clearing and walked back toward Varath. The Reaper rested across his shoulder, still faintly steaming with ichor. The forest animals scattered before him, the Packbane aura ensuring none dared cross his path.
By the time the city walls rose in the distance, dawn's light was full. He crossed the gates under Binding Stare, guards nodding blankly as he passed. He slipped through the streets, shadows dragging longer and longer behind him, until he reached the inn.
The maid was already up, tending the common room. She froze when she saw him, blush rushing to her face, then dipped her head. Noctis ignored her, mounting the stairs silently.
In his chamber, he stripped the armor free and sat on the bed's edge, the Grid still pulsing hot across his sight. The feast lingered in his veins, a raw ache of strength begging to be unleashed again.
But he lay back instead, closing his eyes. The city was too small. The forest too weak. The inn too temporary.
It was time to plan where to go next.
The inn's walls no longer held him. After devouring the Alpha and its pack, the city of Varath felt small, its streets too narrow for the Grid now burning in his veins. But he still needed information, and there was one place where rumors, bounties, and prey all gathered.
The Adventurers Guild.
Noctis crossed the morning-crowded streets, sealed armor cloaking his body, cloak drawn over his helm. The Broodfang Reaper rested hidden in Storage, its pulse faint but present in the back of his mind. He passed through the guild's tall doors without a glance at the guards. The hall was alive with voices: adventurers boasting of kills, arguing over coin, hawking contracts. The air reeked of steel, sweat, and ale.
He approached the bounty board. Pages hung in rows, each marked with beast sketches, signatures, and rewards. His eyes scanned until they landed on one he knew too well:
Bounty: Iron Fang Alpha — reward: 600 goldAlive or slain. Proof required.
Noctis's lips curved faintly under his helm. Proof. There was none. He had devoured it, body and soul, leaving not even bones behind. The Grid had absorbed it entirely. For him, rewards meant nothing compared to power. Still, the sight amused him. The guild hunted a legend he had already erased from the world.
He turned from the board.
At a nearby table, a group of adventurers leaned close in hushed discussion. Their voices carried, low but urgent.
"…the dungeon east of Varath," one whispered. "Three days travel. The mobs are thick. Chitin, scales, even elemental types."
"Forget the fodder," another said. "The real prize is the titan at the bottom. The guild's put the word out quietly. Whoever clears it gets more than coin—reputation, rank, gear."
Noctis stilled. Titan.
The word cut through the noise of the hall sharper than steel. His Perception latched on, every syllable mapped in detail. A titan. Another sovereign beast. Another banquet for the Grid.
His helm tilted toward the adventurers. They argued about loot shares, strategies, supplies. He needed none of it. The only thing worth taking from this conversation was the direction.
East. Three days. A titan waited.
Noctis smiled faintly. The guild had given him what he needed without even knowing.
He turned and left the hall without a word.
Back at the inn, the sun had climbed, its heat pressing faint even through his sealed armor. He moved up the stairs and into his chamber, closing the door behind him. The Grid still pulsed with the Alpha's essence, but it now had a new goal to aim for. He would rest through the day, conserve his strength, and when night fell, he would begin his journey east.
But he was not alone.
The maid knocked softly, then stepped in, carrying a tray of bread and watered wine. Her eyes flicked to him, blush rising immediately. He didn't need to speak. The violet glow of the Binding Stare caught her before she could blink.
"Serve me tonight," he said, voice low.
"Yes, master," she whispered, eyes blank with devotion.
Night passed in shadows and moans, the creak of the bed hidden under her cries. She gave herself wholly, her body arching beneath his control, the Grid drinking in her essence in measured sips.
When dawn crept pale across the shutters, Noctis dressed in silence, armor sliding into place. He cast one last glance at the bed.
The maid lay sprawled across the sheets, hair tangled, sweat-damp skin flushed with heat. The blanket barely covered her hips. Her lips parted, her chest rising slowly in exhausted sleep. Even unconscious, her expression was one of pleasure and satisfaction, as though she dreamed of serving him still.
Noctis pulled his cloak over his helm and stepped out into the hall. The city stirred awake, merchants opening stalls, guards changing shifts. To them, he was a traveler. To himself, he was already gone.
Eastward. To the dungeon. To the titan.