The Princess Eryl was in a dire state, and she could die at any moment. The only way to save her was to acquire the blood of the Direwolf King—known as the Pack Lord, Kazler, the Great Wolf. Despite the danger, Darken had shown unwavering determination to embark on the mission. He had affirmed this not once, but twice: first before the king, and again in front of the queen and the sage Lobo, with the king present as well.
Thus, the queen gave orders to prepare several necessities for Darken, the most important of which was clothing. Since arriving on the new continent, he had worn nothing but a simple pair of trousers. Though his appearance had not initially caught the queen's attention, it certainly hadn't gone unnoticed by others. From the queen's perspective, however, such a state was inappropriate—he needed to be properly dressed.
This attitude was consistent among the Elves, without exception. None among them appeared naked or even half-naked in the presence of others. It seemed this modesty stemmed from the culture and beliefs of the Eastern Elves in particular. For Darken, this was agreeable—visually comfortable, even. He had no discomfort from not seeing exposed bodies, and from that moment on, he realized… he disliked public nudity.
At that time, within the chamber carved into the heart of the great tree—where Darken had previously sat with King Toras—he remained seated upon the same red cushion. His body was now draped in a dark robe that clung to him without restricting movement, made of relatively heavy fabric with a slightly coarse texture. The design was simple, devoid of ornamentation or embroidery, yet it conveyed a sense of severity and gravity, as if it had been made for him alone.
The robe's sleeves extended to his wrists, and wide leather bands wrapped his forearms—perhaps to secure armor or to protect his hands during close combat. Around his waist was a broad leather belt that fastened the robe tightly, giving his appearance a striking balance. The belt bore signs of long use, and beneath it, the fabric flowed in calculated layers, providing freedom of movement without obstructing his steps—crafted, it seemed, for one who knew how to fight in the shadows.
His hands were covered in dark leather gloves, tightly fitted, wrapping around his fingers and palms like a second skin. They dulled the sting of weapons and shielded him from cold and injury. Though Darken wasn't accustomed to this type of attire, he soon felt a surprising comfort in it—as if it embraced him, shielding him from the world outside.
He was informed that a black cloak with a hood would soon be prepared for him, along with a new set of clothing in the same design. Apparently, what he currently wore was secondhand—but to Darken, it felt brand-new.
He sat in silence for a while, waiting for either the king, the queen, or anyone to arrive and give him the signal to depart toward his next destination: the land of the Direwolves, where Darken would encounter the second race on this continent.
After a short while, he heard footsteps approaching and turned his gaze toward the silken curtain—awaiting whoever was about to appear. From behind it emerged the figure of Princess Eve, who looked to be in poor condition—not physically, but emotionally.
"The king wants to see you," she said softly, her voice slightly tense. "He says everything is ready."
Darken rose and stood tall, then stepped steadily toward Eve, who hadn't met his gaze since she arrived. From this, he concluded one thing: she was worried about her older sister. Gently, Darken raised his hand and patted her head with deliberate care.
"Don't worry. I'll return with the blood of the Direwolf King. I'll do everything I can… to save Eryl." Then he offered her a small smile. " I promise ."
His words—and the touch on her head—were enough to make her tremble slightly. Yet at the same time, she smiled softly… a tender, childlike smile. She nodded without speaking, slipped from beneath his hand, and walked ahead.
"Follow me…" she said, a faint gleam of renewed hope in her eyes.
Darken followed her, stepping out of the chamber where he had sat, guided by her steps to a place that seemed like a private zone—built with care, its stone walls reinforced by solid tree roots. For a brief moment, Darken felt awe-struck. A place like this… could only exist in dreams. But now…He was living the dream—in reality.
The king was already there, and beside him stood Commander Toril, the same man who had once dragged Darken to the land of the Elves. Along with two other Elves—and with the arrival of Princess Eve—they now numbered five within Darken's field of view.
The king cast a thorough glance over Darken, examining him from head to toe, then spoke in a calm tone with carefully chosen words: "boy , I'll ask you again, this time for confirmation… We all know that you're not responsible for the situation we're facing now. It is a matter that concerns us alone. Still, we value your willingness to help. So, tell me, boy…"
He stepped closer, locking eyes with Darken. "Are you certain of your decision?"
A heavy silence settled over the space. Nothing could be heard except the rising breaths of those present, all awaiting Darken's response. Darken exhaled deeply, then answered with firm resolve written on his face:
"I'm still committed to my decision—and I won't back down." His tone was clear and unwavering.
King Toras nodded in approval. "Commander Toril will accompany you to the Valley of the Direwolves. Laro and Adinis will join you as well for support. They're both skilled—so you have nothing to worry about."
Darken cast a discerning look at them.
First at Commander Toril, an Elf with stern, battle-hardened features that spoke of someone seasoned in war and conflict. Beside him stood Laro, a handsome Elf with a charming demeanor, smiling as if heading on a pleasant stroll—but his appearance hinted at deep experience that couldn't be ignored. And beside Princess Eve stood Adinis, a beautiful Elf—though she didn't match the radiant beauty of Queen Erlsya or the princesses Eve and Eryl, she was still striking in her own right.
Darken noticed that all of them wore combat attire tailored for their race, colored in earthy tones of green and brown—a blend resembling bark and leaves, emphasizing their close bond with nature. As for him... he wore black, like the shadow of a tree come to life. Yet somehow, the look suited him perfectly.
"Let's go, human. We don't have time to waste. We must move as quickly as we can," said Commander Toril, his tone sharp and commanding.
Before Darken could move, the king stepped forward and added, "Remember this, boy... don't focus so much on what's ahead that you forget what's around you—no matter how strong the feeling inside you grows." With that, he gave Darken a light push on the back.
Darken didn't quite understand the king's words, but regardless, he pressed forward, following Toril and the others. As he walked, he raised his right fist slightly before continuing onward—until all four of them crossed an invisible barrier and vanished from sight.
Princess Eve remained beside her father, her eyes fixed in the direction the group had departed. Her thoughts were on Darken. She looked up and asked quietly, "Father… why is he helping us? Why does he seem so desperate to do so?"
It was a simple question, but one that struck Toras deeply. He smiled gently and responded in a warm, fatherly tone:
"Because that boy has lived a very difficult life. That's why he can understand the pain we're feeling now. That's why he insists on helping us… Because, simply put… he's a kind soul."
Eve listened to his words intently. Then, she moved closer and wrapped her arms around him tightly. Her voice trembled slightly with vulnerability: "Will he succeed? Will… he really be able to bring back the blood of the Direwolf King?" There was sorrow in her voice—grief barely held back.
The king placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and replied,
"Don't worry. Everything will be alright. But now… we must focus on something more important. What happened to your sister wasn't an accident."
Eve blinked in surprise.
"Huh?"
Toras took a few steps away and began walking, his tone calm—but brimming with cold determination: "My dear… your sister is nimble. Never once in her life has her foot slipped—whether walking or climbing. From childhood to the bloom of her youth, she never stumbled. And now… that wound on her ankle? Everything that happened… wasn't mere coincidence."
His voice was quiet, yet sharp with restrained anger—an edge of silent fury. Eve shivered at the sound of his tone, then hurried to walk beside him.
"Father… do you mean… do you mean that my sister…?"
She didn't finish. Her voice trembled and dropped into barely audible whispers.
The king turned to her, his face hardening into a mask of seriousness. "Yes. Someone orchestrated all of this. And I… I know who it is. And you, Eve... you will help me." His eyes darkened as he looked at her. "Can I trust you?" he asked directly, still walking forward with slow, deliberate steps.
She hesitated for a moment, but quickly pulled herself together. "Yes! You can count on me, Father!" she replied with firm conviction.
And so, the king and his daughter left the chamber that had witnessed their final meeting with Darken before his journey to the Valley of the Direwolves. Each now had a task of their own—Darken, in search of the blood that Sage Lobo needed to craft the antidote that might save Eryl,and King Toras, preparing to uncover the hidden truth behind what had happened to his daughter.
Different paths . Same goal.
At that moment, Darken stepped through the concealed barrier into the mysterious forest—the very same forest that had embraced him upon his first arrival on the continent of Andrastes. He moved side by side with Laro, Adinis, and Commander Toril, all of whom remained completely silent. Not a single word was spoken to Darken, and he, in turn, maintained his silence as well. Without delay, the group broke into a sprint, heading swiftly toward their intended destination.
Running, huh? Well… I've never done this before. But I'm doing it now… It's a strange feeling—yet… oddly refreshing.
I need to focus. I can't afford to slam into a tree or trip over a rock. There's no room for hesitation—not even for a second. Time… We're racing against time now!
Then, a fleeting thought surfaced—simple, yet strangely profound.
Those words I said… THEY WERE ACTUALLY KIND OF GREAT!. I never imagined I'd speak like that. I like this feeling…!
They ran at blinding speed, effortlessly dodging stones, obstacles, and trees. Even the thick shrubs posed no problem—they leapt over them, weaved past them, or cut straight through without losing pace. Not a second could be wasted. And for Darken, it was all for the sake of saving Eryl.
The others didn't look at him—or at least, that's how it seemed. In truth, each of them was observing him in their own way.
Laro was silently amazed at Darken's ability to keep up.
He's unbelievable… So different from what I've always heard about humans. This one… is completely different. He runs like someone who doesn't even understand the concept of exhaustion.
As for Adinis, she was more intrigued than impressed:
Is he using magic? If so… what kind of magic allows him to match our speed without leaving any trace behind?
What is this stranger hiding?
Meanwhile, Toril, running ahead with a hardened expression, kept his thoughts to himself. No one could see the storm behind his features.
That damned human… Does he really think he can keep up with us?
He'll learn his place soon enough. He'll see that the races have ranks—and everyone must know their station.
Their feelings toward Darken varied wildly—curiosity, suspicion, disdain. Each saw something different in him, each crafted their own interpretation, assuming they had one at all. But despite the disparity, there was one conclusion they all silently agreed on:
He can't be trusted.
His new appearance, the dark attire, the striking silver hair, the unnerving silence, the lack of speech—it all rendered him enigmatic, unsettling. Still, orders had come from King Toras, and a mission awaited. So, for now, they had to treat him as an ally—even if that trust was temporary… or entirely false.
After nearly an hour of running, Darken had yet to show the slightest sign of fatigue, whereas subtle exhaustion had begun creeping into the others. His strange endurance surprised them, and perhaps it was thanks to his new body.
But what mattered most now… was that they had finally arrived at their destination.
"Is this the place?" Darken asked, his gaze sharp and focused on the surroundings.
Toril, trying to suppress his labored breathing, answered,
"Yes… we're here. This is the path to the Valley of the Direwolves." But the sweat glistening on his skin, and his strained exhale, betrayed what he tried to conceal.
Darken turned his eyes toward the direction Toril indicated, but all he saw was a deep, dark cave from which a faint, cold breeze flowed. He felt uneasy about it—but he was ready for anything. Before they proceeded, Laro lit a small torch. Then, Toril declared firmly:
"Let's go… to the Valley of the Direwolves."
Darken stepped in behind them with steady, confident strides into the dark cave. At first, nothing about the place felt unusual. No sense of danger, no looming threat, no strange energy in the air.
But that quickly changed.
That feeling…!
Darken thought to himself in quiet astonishment, though his expression remained unreadable.
It's the same feeling I had when I first entered the lands of the Elves…
Similar, even, to what I felt when I left them…
But this time… it's clearly different.
His features tensed slightly. He opened his eyes wide as he caught the scent wafting from deeper inside.
It's… the smell of blood. The air is heavy, stifling… almost unbearable.
He glanced at his companions.
They must be used to this. But even so...
I can tell they're unsettled…This place sends chills through the spine.
After a short distance into the cave, the atmosphere around them began to shift. Soon, they saw a glimmer of light ahead. When they emerged from a narrow rocky passage, they found themselves atop a high ledge. On either side of the cave's mouth, two torches stood mounted, casting flickering light over the path that led to an unexpected sight.
"This…" Darken began to speak, but Adinis cut him off.
"Yes, this is it," she said in a serious, cautious tone.
"The Valley of the Direwolves."
From their elevated vantage point, they saw it clearly—a vast, concave landform resembling a colossal crater. Some areas stretched far into the distance, beyond what the eye could easily trace. Massive rocks were scattered randomly across the terrain. The ground looked lifeless. The air itself was dense.
Only piercing sounds could be heard—cries, howls—
as if the earth itself was bracing for eruption.
In that moment, Darken realized something:
he would need strength, vigilance, and restraint.
This wasn't a place to act rashly. He didn't yet know whether the inhabitants of this land were peaceful…or monsters, just as their name suggested.