The fight had been merciless, a blur of claws, fangs, and flames. Time seemed to stretch and snap all at once—every strike, every dodge, every movement a deadly rhythm of life and death.
I felt it, the shift in momentum. With each clash, each burst of fire and shadow, I gained the upper hand. My flames licked at her fur, her strikes growing slower, less precise, weighed down by exhaustion—or perhaps respect.
Then she struck. A powerful swipe, aimed to crush me. I dodged, instincts screaming. Flames erupted around me as I activated Flame Flare, sending a burst of heat and fire that forced her to stumble back.
She recovered quickly, her silver fur singed, eyes narrowing—but her focus was broken for the briefest moment. That's when I saw it.
A sword, flying with uncanny speed, embedded itself in her back. Her head snapped around to follow it, and for an instant, her attention wavered completely.
I didn't hesitate.
I lunged, claws blazing and fire coursing through every fiber of my being, aiming for her neck. Her eyes widened—shock, surprise, fury—but it was too late.
The strike landed.
The world seemed to freeze for a heartbeat. Then she collapsed, her massive body hitting the snow with a heavy thud. Silence fell.
Around us, the invading pack froze in fear, watching their alpha defeated, powerless. I stood over her, chest heaving, fire still flickering along my fur, claws slick with ash and frost.
Victory wasn't sweet—it was survival, dominance, proof of power.
I had claimed my place.
And the forest itself seemed to acknowledge it.
Victor stood over the fallen alpha, chest heaving, flames still simmering faintly beneath his skin. The battlefield had gone silent—only the fading echoes of snarls and clashing steel lingered in the cold air. The humans stared at him, wide-eyed, frozen between awe and terror. None of them had expected this. None of them had expected him.
The remaining direwolves broke and scattered, their formation collapsing the moment their alpha fell. They fled into the trees, yelping, wounded, defeated. For a heartbeat, Victor was the center of everything—victorious, untouchable, a force none could deny.
He turned toward the soldiers. Some took a step back. Some didn't move at all. All of them looked like they had just witnessed a storm wearing human skin.
But before Victor could speak—before he could even lift a hand—
Something slammed into his side.
Hard. Heavy. Brutal enough to knock the breath straight out of him.
His eyes widened, confusion flickering for just a second. He tried to steady himself… but his knees buckled. Pain flashed across his body, spreading fast, too fast.
He reached for the ground—
And the world tilted.
The last thing he heard was someone shouting his name.
The last thing he saw was the dark treeline spinning.
And then—
Everything went black.
Victor's eyes snapped open.
Cold iron. Rough rope. The sway of wheels on dirt.
He tried to move—his muscles answered with nothing but pain. His arms and legs were bound tight, and thick steel bars caged him in like some wild prize animal. The cart creaked as it rolled forward, pulled by horses and surrounded by armored boots.
Villagers lined the road as the convoy passed through their settlement. Some whispered. Some stared with fear. Others drew closer, trying to see the "monster" the knights bragged about.
A small girl tugged her mother's sleeve, pointing at Victor with innocent excitement.
"Look, Mama! This beast will be a present for my little brother," she said brightly.
Victor's jaw tightened.
The knights rode beside the cart, retelling the battle with dramatic flair—painting themselves as glorious heroes who had fought "tooth and claw" against him. Victor listened, irritation simmering into something darker.
Their lies grew bolder with every step.
Finally, he couldn't help it—
he chuckled.
The sound was low, rumbling, unnatural.
The entire road went silent.
Every knight. Every villager. Even the horses stiffened at the sound.
A knight—broad-shouldered, armored in scratched silver—strode toward the cart, hand on his sword. His confidence swelled as the crowd watched.
"Oh? The beast laughs?" he said, leaning close to the bars. "Do tell, monster. What's so funny?"
Victor lifted his head slowly, eyes glowing with barely-contained fury.
"Where I come from," he growled, "we have a word for humans like you."
The knight smirked and leaned in, so close Victor could feel his breath.
"Does it happen to be… hero?" he taunted.
"No."
"Leader, then?" the knight pushed, grinning. "Or perhaps… an immortal warrior?"
Victor's lips curled back, exposing deadly teeth.
The knight didn't flinch—
until Victor moved.
With a blur of motion, Victor lunged forward between the bars and bit off half the knight's face.
Blood sprayed.
The man fell backward, screaming, clutching the ruined remains of his jaw.
Gasps erupted from the crowd—some shrieks, some stumbling back in terror as Victor rose to his full height, ropes snapping as his power surged.
His voice thundered, deep and monstrous:
"How about… COWARD."
Silence.
No one even breathed.
Victor's gaze swept across them all—villagers, knights, nobles trembling in their armor.
"I stand before you not as myth," he growled. "Not as your story or your trophy."
His aura darkened, cracking the wood beneath his feet.
"I am not anything.
I am something lesser men fear."
The crowd recoiled, shackled by instinctual terror.
And Victor, towering inside the cage, stared back with a promise:
This wasn't over.
As Mr. Orbis released the global message across the realms, every individual standing before the Green Door felt the weight of his words settle into their bones.
They looked around at one another—strangers a moment ago, now unwilling allies bound by desperation and fear.
The Green Door pulsed softly, as if breathing.
A young man stepped forward, trembling.
"What… what does this mean? Seeds? Clans? What did he do to us?"
"No," a woman corrected, eyes sharp. "The real question is—what did he turn us into?"
Because they all felt it.
A thrumming under their skin.
A strange energy rising in their veins.
A pull toward destiny they had not asked for.
Suddenly symbols began glowing on their wrists—some green, some gold, some faint and trembling.
A tall muscular woman stared at hers.
"H-Hunter clan? Blessed with Qi and magic…?"
A teenage boy next to her lifted his arm, shocked to see only a tiny weak glow.
"Mine says… Level 1 Seed… is that bad?"
A silence fell over the group.
Then the Green Door cracked open with a rumble—
and a surge of warm wind washed over them.
Beyond it lay a vast emerald forest stretching endlessly, illuminated by floating lantern-like orbs. Massive trees reached into the sky, and strange creatures moved between the roots.
Someone whispered:
"This is… the Hunter Realm."
A distant roar responded, shaking the ground beneath their feet.
They froze.
Something powerful was out there.
A woman with a sharp jawline narrowed her eyes.
"He said to become strong… to save our families."
"Yeah," a man muttered, clenching his fists.
"But what he didn't say is how many will die before we do."
As they stepped across the threshold, each Seed pulsed again—
and a voice echoed in all their minds:
"HUNT. GROW. RISE.
OR BE CONSUMED."