The arrow flew.
It struck the second grey wolf straight through the throat, dropping it mid-charge. But the remaining five were already too close.
I abandoned the bow instantly.
At close range, hesitation meant death.
I switched to my spear.
Aura surged into my legs, and I leapt sideways—not backward. Wolves instinctively marked positions. The moment I changed angles, they were forced to adjust.
That fraction of a second was enough.
I drove the spear forward. The tip pierced cleanly through a wolf's skull as it lunged. The impact rattled my arms, but the body collapsed before it could tear free.
Four remained.
Years of training paid off. My brain, eyes, and ears were always lightly coated in aura—not thick, not flashy. Just enough to sharpen perception and reaction.
One wolf came too close.
I twisted the spear and used the axe-blade mounted along its side. A clean horizontal sweep—
The wolf's head left its body.
Blood sprayed across the ground.
Three left.
They paused.
Grey wolves weren't mindless beasts. Their numerical advantage was gone. This fight was no longer guaranteed.
They began to reposition.
That was when I made my mistake.
I switched weapons.
I drew the bow and released an arrow.
The shaft pierced straight through a wolf's eye.
It collapsed instantly—no scream, no struggle. Its body twitched once, then went completely still.
Too still.
I didn't have time to confirm the kill.
I dropped the bow and coated my entire body in aura. My armor was nothing more than reinforced leather—it wouldn't survive a prolonged exchange.
I charged.
One wolf lunged from the side.
I met it head-on.
Dark aura surged into my arm as I drove my fist into its skull. Bone crushed under the impact, and the wolf was thrown aside, crashing into the dirt and rolling to a halt—alive, but stunned.
That was when I felt it.
Pressure.
Teeth.
The wolf I had shot—not dead—clamped down on my injured leg. Its jaws locked tight, sinking deep as pain finally caught up to me.
Agony exploded upward.
I staggered, nearly losing my balance.
I slammed my fist down again, but it refused to release me.
Grinding my teeth, I grabbed the arrow still lodged in its eye and drove it deeper, angling it through the skull.
The wolf went limp.
Its jaws loosened.
I tore free, stumbling back as blood soaked my leg.
My breathing was ragged. The pain was manageable—but only barely.
I drew my sword.
Dark coloration crawled along the blade's spine, the edge faintly glowing blue under the fading light.
The remaining wolf sensed weakness.
It attacked.
I turned slightly, letting it pass—
And cut.
The blade cleaved cleanly through its body.
Silence fell.
The last wolf—injured and terrified—howled once before fleeing into the forest.
I didn't chase.
Stopping the bleeding came first.
I tore cloth, packed the wound with crushed herbs, and bound it tightly. The pain throbbed, but the bleeding slowed.
Staying here was suicide.
Limping, I relocated until I found a narrow cave—barely large enough for shelter, but defensible.
I dragged a portion of monster meat with me. Not for hunger.
For experimentation.
As night fell, I hunted smaller animals with my bow and roasted the meat without seasoning. I built a large fire.
Fire could repel monsters.
Or attract them.
Luck would decide.
Later, I ate the jerky I had brought. Tough. Dry. Edible.
Each bite pulled at my jaw, slow and deliberate, forcing my breathing to steady.
I survived not because I was stronger—but because I adapted before hesitation finished me.
The thought settled heavier than the pain in my leg.
When I prepared to sleep, the forest stirred.
Bushes rustled.
I focused aura into my eyes.
Nothing.
Then—
Blue eyes.
Grey fur.
A larger wolf stood just beyond the firelight, watching silently.
Not charging.
Not retreating.
Observing.
I tightened my grip on the sword.
So even now…
Luck wasn't on my side.