The blue eyes watched me with absolute focus.
I didn't look away.
The instant I showed hesitation, I would die.
I tightened my grip on the sword and met its gaze directly—no fear, no provocation. Just awareness. For several breaths, neither of us moved.
Then the wolf stepped back.
At first, I thought it was retreating.
That illusion shattered the moment I shifted my focus.
Pressure closed in from every direction.
Grey wolves emerged silently from the darkness, slipping between trees and brush, their movements coordinated and precise. My breath caught.
I was surrounded.
The blue-eyed wolf hadn't left. It had merely repositioned—drawing my attention forward while the rest closed the net.
The pack leader.
My injured leg throbbed. Running was impossible—but I still considered it.
Instinct screamed escape.
The moment that thought formed, the pack leader stepped forward.
It stared straight at me.
Not charging.
Not attacking.
Warning.
If I turned my back—even for a second—it would strike.
Escape wasn't an option.
My fingers brushed the flare at my belt. Using it meant failure. Two more years before another attempt.
I pulled my hand away.
Last resort only.
I needed visibility.
I tore a burning branch from the fire and hurled it into the undergrowth. Flames spread rapidly through dry leaves and bushes, firelight blooming outward and forcing the shadows back.
Eyes reflected everywhere.
Too many to count.
The blue-eyed wolf stood apart, watching.
Commanding.
I exhaled slowly.
Then I drew the spear.
Dark aura surged through my body, blood pounding violently in my ears. Pain flared from my leg, but I ignored it and stepped forward.
Second Manual — Spear Form: Snake Whip
Inspired by serpents—how they flowed, how they struck while evading—I lowered my stance and slid forward in a sharp, bending arc.
The spear lashed out.
One wolf fell instantly.
I twisted, redirected momentum, and pierced another through the throat.
A third lunged—too slow.
The spear drove through its skull.
A fourth screamed as the axe-blade mounted on the spear bit deep into its side, lodging there as it writhed.
The pack surged.
I kicked the embedded spear free, caught it low on the shaft, and spun—cutting a full circle around myself.
Four more wolves fell.
Pain tore across my back as claws raked me. Aura and armor softened the blow, but blood still flowed. My injured leg trembled, strength leaking away with every heartbeat.
I fought while retreating, using trees as cover, forcing the wolves to funnel toward me. I stabbed, slashed, withdrew—again and again.
Bites landed.
Scratches accumulated.
My breathing grew ragged.
Dark aura drained faster than it recovered.
My grip weakened.
I was losing.
I looked for an opening.
For escape.
The pack leader moved instantly—cutting off my angle, blue eyes locked onto mine.
A clear message.
Run, and I kill you first.
My options vanished.
I felt it then—true exhaustion, creeping numbness, the edge of collapse.
I had one choice left.
Miasma.
I had avoided using it in combat. The last time I did, my thoughts dulled, aggression overwhelming reason.
But reason wouldn't save me now.
I condensed what little dark aura remained purely into defense, reinforcing my body—and poured miasma into the weapon.
The world tilted.
Black-red power surged down my arms.
My thoughts blurred.
I moved.
The spear tore through wood, flesh, and bone alike. Trees split. Wolves died. I didn't count them. I couldn't.
I was no longer thinking.
Only moving.
Then—
A howl.
The pack froze.
Every remaining wolf retreated at once, melting into the forest.
Only the leader remained.
It stepped forward.
I dropped the spear and drew my sword.
First Manual — Sword Form: Bee Sting
A technique from childhood—focused, compressed, lethal. All power driven into a single point.
I struck.
The wolf twisted at the last instant, avoiding a fatal blow.
Pain exploded.
Claws tore into my leg. Fangs raked my shoulder. My other leg buckled as blood poured freely.
I collapsed.
My vision dimmed.
Then a voice cut through the darkness.
"Sleep well, warrior. You fought well—for a newbie."
Blackness swallowed me whole.