The night burst open with a single howl… a howl that sounded as if it was pulled from the bottom of an open wound in the heart of the forest itself. Its echo bounced between the black rocks, struck the tree trunks, then exploded into the sky like a flood of pain.
Only one breath passed… then the second. Then the third. Then dozens… then hundreds…
As if a demonic choir had climbed onto the stage of darkness and begun playing a symphony of death, a symphony of fangs, flesh, and blood ready to swallow everything that breathes life.
The two commanders narrowed their eyes. Their soldiers' fists tightened. And the air became heavier than what could be inhaled.
The old man clenched his teeth so hard that his gums bled, as if fate whispered to him with mockery: "Congratulations… the gift you never asked for has arrived."
His two grandchildren trembled behind him, but in the depths of their young eyes a hard spark ignited, a spark only a child who tasted loss too early could carry.
As for the twenty soldiers… fear was clear on their faces like blood on a blade. But it was not the fear that leads to retreat. It was the fear of a soldier who swore an oath and knew that running would not save him, but only make him an easier meal… a meal unworthy of even one blood wolf.
Only Ashin was lying on the ground, his expression indifferent, as if he was looking at a world he did not belong to… or as if he had died long ago and no longer saw any difference between life and death.
Another howl tore through the air.
The leader of Blood Blade Sect shouted: "You damned Blood Hand Sect! A short truce! If we fall, you fall too… don't even think about leaving us in the front to die!"
No one answered him. But the silence itself was complete agreement.
Whoosh… whoosh… whoosh… whoosh…
Dozens of blood-colored shadows exploded in front of them. The blood wolves did not threaten… did not roar… did not approach with caution. They attacked immediately.
Blood Blade Sect split like a machine.
The first group stayed in the back. Chants rose… overlapping voices… runic circles blooming in the air like hellish flowers. Hundreds of blood blades burst out of the circles, screaming in a language heard only by those who lost their humanity, then shot toward the wolves like rain… a rain of cutting, tearing, and pure malice.
The second group, the vanguard, gritted their teeth and stepped forward. Spells burst from their chests like breaths filled with madness. Their bodies ignited with a glowing red light. Above their heads, two small blood blades formed like twin stars before exploding. The blades in their hands shone with bloody light, becoming sharper, their strength rising. Their auras grew more violent. Their eyes widened until the white in them became just a memory.
Then they charged forward… madness without chaos… violence without error… a savage balance born from a sect raised on blood alone.
Blood Hand Sect was the opposite. They did not split or scatter. They gathered together as if they were one being, one soul, a single mass of dark sorcery.
Their chants were lower… slower… but more terrifying. And when they finished… the sky and earth exploded with hundreds of ghostly blood hands.
Hands without joints… without flesh… without mercy. They tore the wolves apart, crushed them, dragged them to the ground like corpses awaiting execution.
But the wolves… had no end.
Whenever ten fell… twenty appeared. Whenever fifty were slaughtered… a hundred came.
The two commanders only watched, as if waiting for something… something worse.
The old man's group was the most coordinated, even though they were the fewest.
The twenty soldiers formed a tight circle to protect the old man and his grandchildren. Their spears shone with bloody shadows, piercing wolves as blood splashed back like mist.
The old man, the boy, and the girl began a single chant… one tone… one breath… a chant that formed seven giant bloody scorpion tails around the soldiers.
Each tail was seven meters long, half a meter wide, covered with spiked armor, ending with a shining poison stinger like an angry moon.
The tails smashed, crushed, stabbed, and exploded the wolves' skulls as if they were watermelons.
And any wolf that slipped through was met by a desperate soldier's spear… a heart beating its last beat… then falling.
Seconds turned into minutes… minutes into an hour… then two… then three.
Blood covered the ground until the soil's color disappeared. The bodies piled on top of each other. The smell of iron and burning living flesh filled their noses until it almost choked them.
No human had fallen. But they were at the edge of collapse…
Their legs shook. Their bodies were full of wound over wound. Sweat mixed with their blood. Their blood mixed with wolf blood. And the earth drank everything.
But the strange thing — something impossible to notice in this hell — was that the blood on the ground… was moving.
Flowing. Crawling. Gathering. As if searching for something… or heading toward something…
Ashin lay there like a worthless corpse. His crimson eyes stared at the sky and at the full moon as if he saw something behind it. His hair fluttered with the wind, as if the hell around him was normal… natural… something that should exist.
A thousand years of trials… a thousand years of torment… a thousand years of brutality
Had twisted his view of the world until calmness felt more unnatural than violence… and silence more frightening than blood.
Then… the darkness exploded with a giant howl that did not belong to this world.
A howl that made hearts stop for a second.
Made blood freeze in veins.
And made the blood wolves themselves become even more savage… and even hungrier. Then suddenly, another massive howl shook the place, freezing the blood in the fighters' veins and increasing the wolves' savagery and ferocity.
"Damn it, I was sure this wouldn't end well," the Blood Blade commander growled as he clenched his teeth.
"Hah, you fool. Obviously this many wolves wouldn't attack without a reason. Of course there's a leader controlling them. Once we kill it, chaos will spread in the pack and getting rid of them will become easier," the Blood Hand commander mocked, though deep inside he knew it wouldn't be that simple.
"Everyone… it seems the hardest part has arrived. Once we pass it, we can finally get out of this hell," the old man said to his soldiers and grandchildren, as if comforting them… or comforting himself.
"Damn it, we're fighting through this bloodbath and he's lying there like he's in his backyard, not caring about the death around him," the boy cursed angrily, pointing at Ashin who stared at the moon with crimson eyes as his hair fluttered like a lifeless body.
"But didn't you notice that not a single wolf has attacked him all this time? It's like they don't even see him," the girl said, exhausted but still carrying beauty in her pale face.
"It's not that they don't see him. It's like they fear getting close," the old man corrected.
"No, I'm sure they see him as just a useless corpse," the boy insisted.
Then…
The ground shook.
The stone wall split open.
And two giant shadows appeared.
One commander shouted: "Damn it… two leaders? Not one?"
The other continued: "It looks like tonight… will be long… very long."