From between the stone shadows covering the forest, human shapes began to appear.
At first, they looked like moving ghosts in the dust, then turned into full rows of armed men.
There were about forty of them, wearing armor marked with bright red symbols that looked as if they were drawn with fresh blood.
On their shoulders hung banners bearing the image of an upside-down blade dripping with blood.
Their swords were curved, their edges wide, sparks flying whenever they struck the ground.
Their faces were grim, their eyes fierce, burning with a silent rage behind calm expressions.
At their front stood a huge man, his shoulders broader than a tree trunk, his hair tied back, and a long scar splitting his face into two uneven halves.
He stood in front of the old man and his group without a word, followed by the heavy echo of his men's footsteps.
But before he could speak, the opposite side of the forest split open, revealing another group — also around forty men — but with different armor.
These wore dark black armor, carved with symbols that looked like stretched hands — five fingers engraved across their chests in blood-like lines that glowed faintly under the moonlight.
Their banners carried the emblem of the Bloodied Hands, and their movements were perfectly synchronized, as if they were one single body.
Their heads were covered with skull-like helmets, and nothing could be seen of their faces except for their burning eyes.
The two sides met in the middle of the stone forest, and the dry grass beneath their feet crumbled with every step.
The air grew heavier, filled with the scent of old iron and evaporated blood.
The old man felt disaster immediately.
He recognized them at first glance.
> "The Blood Blade Sect… and the Bloodied Hands Sect."
He whispered those words so quietly that only those nearest to him heard, but every one of his men felt the chill creep into their hands.
Those two names alone were enough to make any traveler avoid the area for miles.
The girl whispered, gripping her spear so tightly her knuckles turned white:
> "Are they… at war now?"
The old man answered in a low, calm but tense voice:
> "There was an agreement between them two years ago… but I heard rumors that war broke out again."
He hadn't finished his words when a shout rang out from one of the Blood Blade men:
> "You scum from the Bloodied Hands! Running again, are you? You've already ended all your agreements with your own blood!"
A man from the opposite side replied, his voice deeper, calmer, but filled with cold death:
> "Agreement? There's no agreement with those who betray their own shadow. Our sect will soon wipe yours out. And tonight, there's no escape for you."
The ground seemed to tremble between them, as if preparing to swallow everyone whole.
The first group raised their swords; the second readied their long spears.
Only a few steps separated a past soaked in blood from a future made of ashes.
The old man raised his hand, trying to calm the situation with a cautious voice:
> "Gentlemen, this land is not a battlefield. We are not part of your confli—"
He didn't finish.
Both sides turned toward him at once.
Forty pairs of eyes from one side, forty from the other — all focused on the old man and his group… and then on the only person who hadn't moved since the beginning — Ashen.
A suffocating silence followed.
Then the scarred man from the Blood Blade Sect spoke, his voice dry like his sword:
> "You there. We haven't seen you before. Which sect are you from?"
The old man immediately bowed slightly and replied carefully:
> "We are only travelers, sir. We hold no allegiance to anyone. We came seeking shelter for the night, nothing more."
A man from the Bloodied Hands replied mockingly:
> "Shelter? In the Forest of Death? Heh… good excuse for hiding. Maybe you're spies?"
The guards around the old man instinctively tightened their grips on their weapons, but he quickly raised his hand, stopping them.
He knew he stood no chance against either sect — both were powerful forces on this continent.
Ashen, however, remained seated.
The same look, the same calm.
But now, the moonlight fully reflected on his face, making his crimson eyes glow like twin embers in the dark night.
Everyone noticed.
Two men from the Blood Blade Sect exchanged glances, and one said seriously:
> "Red hair? And eyes like that? Peak Blood Trainee Stage… I've never heard of this boy before."
The other laughed with a sneer:
> "Why so serious? Look at that distant, blank expression. He must be one of those who followed that cursed path — looks like he lost his mind."
"Seriously, how could a mere boy dare to follow that path? He must have no fear at all."
"Ha, whatever. Seems he overestimated himself and went insane."
Ashen's expression didn't change, as if their words hadn't even reached him.
But the old man felt something strange — the air around the boy shifted for an instant, then went back to normal.
An illusion, maybe… yet for that brief second, he felt an unnatural pressure, as if something enormous had awakened, then went back to sleep.
The scarred man from the Blood Blade Sect pointed his sword toward the old man and spoke firmly:
> "Join us. Fight these bastards beside us, and you'll have our protection after the battle."
The Bloodied Hands leader laughed coldly:
> "Or they could join us instead, kill your trash, and we'll grant them safety in our capital. Choose wisely… neutrality isn't an option tonight."
The tension peaked.
The old man's soldiers exchanged terrified looks.
The girl placed her hand on her spear, her body shaking despite her will.
The boy's face twisted with anger, but he didn't dare speak.
The old man closed his eyes for a moment, thinking quickly.
He leaned slightly forward and spoke in a steady voice despite the pressure:
> "We don't belong to anyone. We won't take part in battles that aren't ours."
The looks of cold hostility ignited immediately from both sides.
One of the Blood Blade men spoke in a low but sharp tone:
> "Then you've chosen death."
A heavy silence followed, one that even the wind refused to break.
Everything around them seemed frozen — even the stones held their breath.
Then… suddenly, a howl echoed in the distance.
A long, deep howl that sounded like it came from the earth itself.
Its echoes bounced across the stone forest, a chaotic resonance without end.
Then came another howl… and another… then dozens.
The birds sleeping in the rock hollows shot into the air in panic.
The moonlight dimmed for a moment, as if blood-filled dust had risen from the ground.
The old man stared into the depths of the forest, his face pale as if drained of blood.
He spoke in a trembling voice, like someone recognizing an old nightmare:
> "Wolves… Blood Wolves."
The ground shook in the next moment.
Countless heavy, fast footsteps tore apart the last traces of silence.
Shadows darted between the rocks — then red eyes began to appear one after another, glowing in the dark like embers in the mouth of night.
Dozens… then hundreds.
And the last howl was so close that even the air seemed to howl with them.
As for Ashen —
He slowly lifted his head, gazing toward the dark horizon, a look of calm indifference on his face, as if he wasn't part of the chaos at all.