The training grounds of the Salvatore Estate were not designed for practice; they were designed for breaking.
Located on a plateau of jagged grey stone, the arena was surrounded by high walls of obsidian that absorbed the morning light, leaving the air perpetually cold. In the center stood a massive obsidian pillar, scarred by the claw marks of a hundred generations of "High-Class" wolves. This was where the bloodline was tested. This was where the weak were culled.
Nikolas stood in the center of the grit, his breath hitching in his chest. His ribs were still a lattice of fractures held together by the System's numbing cold, but today, there was no hiding in the infirmary. The Patriarch had called for a "Progress Assessment."
[STATUS CHECK: HP 24/100]
[WARNING]: Bone structural integrity compromised. Recommend: Total Rest.
[PASSIVE ACTIVE]: Pain Suppression (Rank 1).
"Rest isn't an option," Nikolas muttered, his voice lost in the whistling wind of the plateau.
His father stood on the observation deck, a mountain of a man in heavy furs, his arms crossed over a chest that could withstand a dragon's fire. Beside him, Nikolas's mother stood in her black trousers and leather boots, her face a pale mask of suppressed terror. She knew what was coming. She had seen this "assessment" before.
"The Salvatore name is built on resilience," the Patriarch's voice boomed, echoing off the obsidian walls. "A wolf who cannot endure the strike is no wolf at all. Marcus, step forward."
Marcus leaped from the deck, landing in the grit with a heavy thud that sent a cloud of dust into the air. He didn't shift into his full wolf form; he didn't need to. He simply let his aura flare—a violent, golden pressure that made the very air feel heavy.
[THREAT DETECTED: MARCUS SALVATORE]
[LEVEL]: 15
[STRENGTH]: UNKNOWN
[DANGER LEVEL]: FATAL
"Don't worry, little brother," Marcus said, his lips curling into a cruel smirk. "I'll try to keep you in one piece. Father wants to see how much 'grit' you have left after your little tumble in the well."
"Begin," the Patriarch commanded.
Marcus moved. He wasn't a blur; he was a tidal wave. He closed the distance in a single stride, his fist glowing with a faint, concentrated mana.
Nikolas tried to bring his arms up to block, his mind racing through the [Combat HUD] projections, but his Level 2 body was too slow. The blow connected with a sickening thud directly against his sternum.
The scream that left Nikolas's throat was not the defiant roar of a warrior. It was the high, thin cry of a weak human.
The impact sent a cloud of grit into the air, obscuring the training grounds. Nikolas was launched backward, his body skipping across the jagged stone like a flat pebble on a pond. He slammed into the obsidian pillar with a crack that sounded like a falling tree.
Nikolas was gone, buried under a small pile of rubble and dust at the base of the pillar.
Deep in the center of the shattered earth, there was a flicker of movement. His mother stepped forward, her leather boots crunching on the gravel, her face full of worry. She reached out a hand, her voice trembling. "Niko? Are you okay?"
"Don't worry, he won't die," the Patriarch interjected, his voice flat and devoid of concern. A small, cruel smirk played on his lips as he watched the dust settle. "The boy is weak. If he can't stand still and take a training blow, how will he ever live up to the Salvatore name?"
Marcus stood in the center of the arena, shaking out his hand. "He's probably fainted, Father. A runt's constitution can only handle so much."
But then, a hand appeared from the rubble.
It was a small hand, covered in grey dust and smeared with dark crimson. It gripped a jagged edge of the obsidian pillar, the fingernails bleeding as they dug into the stone.
"Yes, Mother... I'm okay," Nikolas's voice called out from the depths of the hole.
He slowly dragged himself out of the rubble. His movements were stiff, pained, and jerky, like a marionette with frayed strings. As he stepped onto level ground, his gait was uneven, each small step a struggle against the injuries blooming across his ribs and the new trauma in his chest.
[CRITICAL ALERT: HP 4/100]
[CONDITION]: TOTAL COLLAPSE IMMINENT.
[SYSTEM OVERRIDE DETECTED]
[SKILL ACTIVATING]: UNYIELDING WILL (RANK 1).
Ouch... that really hurts, Nikolas whispered to himself, his voice too low for the others to catch. He looked at Marcus, who was staring at him in genuine surprise. Then he looked up at his father's smirk.
Was he actually trying to kill me?
The question burned in his mind, hotter than the pain. He looked at his brother, then back to the Patriarch. He realized then that they weren't testing his strength. They were testing his breaking point. They wanted him to quit. They wanted him to admit he didn't belong so they could cast him out without guilt.
[NEW NOTIFICATION]
[EMERGENCY PROTOCOL]: RAPID CELLULAR REPAIR (PASSIVE).
[COST]: ALL REMAINING STAMINA.
[NOTICE]: Suppression of physical trauma initiated. Damage masked.
Nikolas felt a cold, needle-like sensation sewing his muscles back together. It wasn't healing—the bones were still grinding—but the System was forcing his nerves to ignore the disaster of his anatomy. He stood up straight, his eyes locking onto Marcus.
"Again," Nikolas said.
The courtyard went silent. Even the wind seemed to die down.
"What did you say?" Marcus asked, his smirk vanishing.
"I said again," Nikolas repeated. He didn't move like a ten-year-old. He moved with a heavy, deliberate focus. "You said the Salvatore name is built on resilience. I'm still standing."
Marcus growled, his golden aura flaring brighter. "You little rat. You want to play tough?"
"Enough," the Patriarch called out, though his eyes were fixed on Nikolas with a new, predatory curiosity. "He has reached his limit. Marcus, return to the deck. Nikolas... go to your room. You have proven you can take a hit. Now we see if you can recover from one."
Nikolas didn't wait for a second dismissal. He turned and began the long, agonizing walk toward the manor. He didn't limp. He didn't hunch over. He kept his back straight and his head held high, even as the System flashed red warnings across his vision.
[HP: 2/100]
[WARNING]: System functionality will cease if HP reaches 0.
He made it past the guards, past the servants who looked at him with a mix of pity and fear, and into the safety of the kitchen gardens. Only when he was behind the tall hedge of the Neutral Zone path did he allow himself to collapse.
He fell into the dirt, gasping for air that wouldn't come.
"Niko!"
Four figures emerged from the shadows of the old watchtower ruins. It was Jax, Kael, Elena, and Sora. They had been hiding, watching the training through the gaps in the estate walls.
"You're bleeding through your tunic," Elena cried, kneeling beside him. She used a damp cloth to wipe the grit from his face.
"I'm fine," Nikolas wheezed, clutching the wooden wolf in his pocket. "I just... I needed to see it."
"See what?" Jax asked, his eyes wide behind his grease-stained goggles.
"The truth," Nikolas said, looking at the four of them. They were all bruised, all grieving for Leo, and all seeing exactly how the "High-Class" treated the things they didn't value. "My father doesn't want me to be a Knight. He wants me to be a corpse. He was trying to kill me."
Kael's fangs sharpened, a low hiss escaping his throat. "They treat us like trash because we don't have their 'Noble Flow.' But look at you, Niko. You took a hit from a Level 15 and you're still breathing."
"It's the System," Nikolas thought, though he didn't say it out loud.
He looked at his friends—his "Runt Squad." They were all that was left of the seven.
"We can't stay here," Nikolas said, pulling himself up to a sitting position. "If we stay, they'll break us one by one. We have to get into the Academy. Not as their 'Low-Class' students, but as something else. We need a plan."
"We're with you, Niko," Sora said, her voice small but steady. "Leo said we'd be a pack. A real pack."
Nikolas looked at the Blood Red Screen flickering in the corner of his eye.
[QUEST UPDATED]: The Runt Squad Reunion.
[OBJECTIVE]: Solidify the Blood Pact.
[REWARD]: Shared Experience Link (Rank 1).
"Then we make the vow," Nikolas said, reaching out his hand. "No more secrets between us. No more running. We train in the ruins. We train in the dark. And when the Recruitment comes... we take everything they have."
One by one, the four of them placed their hands over his. In the center of the ruins, under the shadow of a family that hated them, the new pack was born.
Nikolas felt a sudden, sharp pulse in his chest.
[NOTIFICATION]: Blood Pact Accepted.
[REMARK]: The Runt has found his teeth.