For a moment, the world held its breath.
Kael's vision narrowed to the wolf's eyes—feral, wild, reflecting the faint golden burn in his own. Every instinct screamed at him to move, and for once, he didn't fight it.
He shifted at the last instant.
The wolf's claws sliced air where his throat had been. Kael ducked low, twisting his wrist, guiding the dagger in a tight arc across the wolf's exposed belly. The blade didn't cut deep, but it cut true. Hot blood spattered the ground, and the beast stumbled with a sharp, pained growl.
Kael didn't retreat this time.
He stepped forward.
The Nightfang lunged again, but its left hind leg buckled. The earlier flame burst had scorched muscle and disoriented it. Pain made its movements frantic, less precise, and that raw desperation gave Kael the opening he needed.
He felt something steady settle inside him—an awareness of weight, distance, timing. Not thought. Not training.
Something older.
The beast leapt.
Kael sidestepped, guided more by instinct than reason, and drove the dagger upward beneath its jaw. The wolf's momentum carried it forward, forcing the blade deeper. Hot breath hit his cheek, then turned wet and weak as the wolf's growl broke into a choking rasp.
Its body convulsed once.
Twice.
Then collapsed, dragging Kael down with it.
For a moment, neither moved.The forest rustled, whispering around them, as if waiting for the outcome.
Kael pulled the dagger free with shaking hands. Blood pooled beneath the wolf's head, steaming faintly in the cold air.
Azreath's voice settled over him, quiet and uncharacteristically steady.
"It is done."
Kael didn't answer. He sat back, breath ragged, chest burning from exertion and the fading ember of uncontrolled flame. His arms trembled, but not from fear—simply from the weight of everything that had just pushed through him.
The wolf's body gave a small twitch as muscles released tension. Kael steadied himself, then leaned forward and pressed a palm against its chest.
"…I killed it."
Azreath answered with a hint of something that might have been approval.
"Not from panic. Not from luck. You killed it because instinct, timing, and resolve aligned. This kill will matter."
Kael swallowed and forced himself upright.
"What now?"
Azreath spoke with the tone of a teacher resuming a lesson mid-way.
"Now you claim the core before the beast's essence collapses."
Kael grimaced. "Claim it… how?"
"Cut beneath the sternum and reach into the cavity. You will find a hardened node near the heart. That is the Nightfang core."
Kael's stomach churned at the thought, but he worked quickly. The dagger slid through cooling flesh, and after a few seconds of searching, his fingers brushed something hard—smooth, round, and warm.
He pulled out the monster core.
It pulsed faintly, swirling with a dim grey aura, like mist trapped inside stone.
Kael held it carefully. "So… I refine it?"
Azreath's tone changed.Not sharp.Not mocking.
Serious.
"You will try. But it will hurt."
Kael frowned. "Why?"
"You are not a Nightfang, Kael. You do not share its elemental path, nor its blood. Compatibility is low. Its essence will strengthen you—but only after trying to tear through every part of you that rejects it."
A chill rippled across Kael's spine. "How low is the compatibility?"
"Very low."
"Will it kill me?"
"If you lose focus."
Kael sighed weakly. "…I hate how honest you are."
Azreath ignored the complaint.
"Sit. Place the core at your center and let your mana guide the outer layer. Do not swallow it, unless you wish agony multiplied."
"Noted."
Kael lowered himself to the ground, crossed his legs, and placed the core against his abdomen. It was warm—too warm—as if eager to be claimed. He drew a slow breath, remembering the earlier training. Breath steady. Instinct quiet.
"Now," Azreath said, "pull."
Kael guided a thin strand of mana into the core.
Immediately, the world snapped tight.
The Nightfang essence surged into him like a spear of ice and fire combined. His breath hitched. Muscles seized. Every nerve from his ribcage to his spine lit up with jagged pain.
He clenched his teeth, but a groan still escaped.
Azreath's voice pressed in, harder."Do not reject it. Meet it. Channel it. You are not a vessel waiting to break—you are a forge meant to temper."
Kael forced his breath to slow, though each inhale stung. The essence moved through him like an animal too wild for his body—clawing, tearing, trying to claim space that wasn't meant for it. His back arched involuntarily as the energy stabbed through his core.
"Azreath—! It's—too much—"
"It is supposed to be too much."
Pain sharpened, dropping him forward onto his hands. The ground blurred. His heart pounded so hard his ribs hurt. Golden specks flickered behind his eyes—instinctively, dangerously trying to shield him.
"No," Azreath snarled. "Do not call the flame. This is not its battle. Let your core face the beast alone."
Kael dug his fingernails into the dirt.
The Nightfang energy slammed against the barrier of his developing dragon core—
and slowly, painfully, reluctantly—that core pulled it in.
It wasn't elegant.It wasn't balanced.It wasn't even fully successful.
But it happened.
Piece by agonizing piece, the wolf's essence dissolved into Kael's core, its raw strength feeding into the furnace inside him.
The burning gradually faded.
The stabbing turned into a deep ache.
The deep ache softened into a heavy exhaustion.
And finally—mercifully—there was only silence.
Kael collapsed backward, staring at the sky. Sweat soaked his shirt, and his fingers trembled uncontrollably. His breathing came shallow, but steady.
"How…" He swallowed hard. "How much did that help?"
Azreath answered honestly.
"Your core grew. Not by much. But enough."
Kael blinked tiredly. "…Enough for what?"
"Enough to survive the next beast."
Kael groaned. "Please tell me that's a joke."
"It is not."
Kael covered his face with both hands, dragging in a slow breath filled with dirt and cold night air.
"…I'm going to die."
"Not if you continue this way."
"That doesn't make me feel better."
"It was not meant to."
Kael let out something between a laugh and a sigh—half despair, half determination.
The forest seemed quieter now. The wolf's body lay still. The moon hung low, silver and watchful. And Kael, shaking and exhausted, felt the faint, steady pulse of his strengthened core deep inside him.
Painful.Unstable.Small.
But real.
A beginning.
Azreath's voice flowed gently through the quiet.
"Rest, brat. When the sun rises, your next hunt begins."
Kael didn't argue. He didn't have the strength.
He let his eyes drift shut as the cold earth held him, and the faint pulse of the wolf's essence settled inside his core.
The night didn't feel safe.
But for the first time, it felt possible.