Just by stepping into a certain cave and walking a specific distance inside, one would suddenly find themselves in what looked like an underground city. But the shocking part was the sky—yes, a real sky stretched above, casting an unsettling sense of dissonance. And that was exactly how Darken felt upon arriving.
Commander Toril led the way along a narrow cliffside path, no more than three meters wide, descending deeper into the valley. It seemed they had to reach a lower level—one inhabited by some of the Direwolves—for a potential conversation. Although they could have leapt between rocks to shorten the distance, they deliberately followed the formal path for two reasons.
First, they didn't want to come off as intruders. Wolves, as everyone knew, became vicious toward outsiders who entered their pack's territory uninvited. That was the last thing they needed—shattering the fragile trust between the elves and the Direwolves.
Second, they didn't fully trust Darken's physical capabilities yet. Yes, he had proven his endurance by running long distances without showing any signs of fatigue, but that alone wasn't enough to consider him reliable. So, they deemed the shortcut too risky—especially with someone who might turn out to be more of a burden than an asset.
As they walked, Darken glanced to his left, trying to get a read on his surroundings. But everything looked distorted. There was no clear structure—no visible order—as if the wolves didn't believe in something as simple as organization. The trees were half-dead and scattered randomly, the houses were crude stone shelters placed without thought or symmetry. And as far as the eye could see, the scars of battle were carved into every surface.
I can't make sense of any of this… This place is unbearably chaotic.
He muttered in irritation.
Every direction I look, it's a different scene… And why does this place feel like one massive pit?
Darken veered slightly off the path, drawing the attention of Adinis, who silently watched him. When he reached the edge of the narrow trail, a sight opened up before him—one that stole the breath from his lungs.
Beneath the cliff and stretching far into the distance lay a vast crater. It wasn't a valley, nor a cave—it was more like a colossal stone amphitheater, carved directly into the mountain's heart. From its depths rose an immense stone wall, arched and wide like a defensive crescent embedded in the rock. It started at a towering rear cliff wall and curved around, enclosing the entire area before circling back to the same wall from the opposite side.
That towering wall, seemingly part of the mountain itself, held within it a majestic structure carved into the rock. The building's dark façade bore no symbols, no banners—yet it radiated enough silent authority to crush any notion of infiltration or conflict. A massive gate stood at its center—no emblem above it, no lights around it—still and foreboding… like the gaping maw of a dormant beast, concealing secrets never meant to be spoken.
Before the fortress lay a vast open ground, littered with boulders, shattered debris, and the remains of buildings long destroyed by something immense. The devastation was clear, and the tension in the air was suffocating—like the aftermath of a brutal war. The earth still wore its wounds.
Torches along the stone wall burned with a crimson hue, casting flickering red light that danced along the surfaces—as if warning of something to come.
"This... is seriously strange," Darken whispered, his eyes shifting between the carvings, walls, and rubble, torn between awe and caution.
"Stay away from the edge," Adinis murmured, pulling him back gently. "We'll get there eventually. Be patient."
Darken didn't respond. He fell silent, his mind still processing everything he'd just seen. For some reason, the place felt... wrong. Abandoned areas, chaotic surroundings—yet everyone had gathered behind those fortified walls. Probably for a reason.
The group kept moving, maneuvering over scattered rocks and minor obstacles. Along the way, Darken noticed claw marks carved into the stone—deep and unmistakably left by wolves. Judging by their size, he had no doubt: what the wise Lobo had said was true. These weren't creatures comparable to humans or elves in any way.
"We're getting close to the fortress. We need to move faster," Commander Toril said sharply. "If we linger in the open at this hour… we'll be its next prey. Staying out here is suicide."
"Huh?" Darken flinched, his eyes narrowing in confusion. "What do you mean by that? Are we being followed?"
He glanced behind him, scanning the area with caution.
"Just move! Don't slow down!" Toril barked the order sharply and picked up his pace.
Darken could sense the tension now. He noticed the unease in Laro and Adinis too—perhaps even fear. It felt like something was lurking… watching them from afar.
He kept walking, maintaining the group's speed, until a thunderous sound erupted through the valley. A howl—deep, powerful, and terrifying—ripped through the air. It sent a chill crawling down Darken's spine.
"RUN! IT'S COMING!!" Toril's voice cracked like a whip as he suddenly bolted toward the fortress gate.
Darken didn't move right away. He tried to pinpoint the source of the howl, but couldn't. With no other choice, he took off running, chasing after his companions, who were leaping over every obstacle with swift and practiced ease. Unlike them, Darken had to jump over rocks rather than maneuver around them, and their sheer number was starting to annoy him.
While running, it felt as if time slowed for Darken.
He turned his gaze to the right—and froze.
Charging straight at him, without warning, was a monstrous creature. A towering beast, nearly four meters tall, lunging with terrifying speed.
"LOOK OUT!!" Adinis screamed with all her might.
But Darken had already moved. He leapt backward, twisting in the air to narrowly avoid the ambush.
Now that he had a clear view, he could finally make out what he was dealing with.
A massive, deformed figure—thick gray fur matted with blood, its back riddled with grotesque, jelly-like lumps, tinted purplish-red and pulsating as if alive.
Parasites? Maybe… but Darken didn't have time to think.
The beast locked eyes with him—savage, murderous eyes filled with primal fury.
It's a wolf... no doubt about that. But something's off.
Darken furrowed his brows, bracing himself.
Why does it feel… unnatural? Almost feral beyond reason.
The direwolf lunged again.
Darken turned and sprinted, zigzagging between scattered boulders in hopes of shaking it off. But the creature kept coming—relentlessly—as if it would rather die than let its prey escape.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, HUMAN?!"
Toril yelled from a distance, having turned back after hearing Adinis's warning.
"I'M OUT FOR A STROLL WITH THIS ADORABLE PUPPY, CAN'T YOU SEE?!" Darken snapped sarcastically, voice raised with equal parts panic and frustration.
"Tch… Just keep running toward the gate," Toril muttered to Laro and Adinis before shouting over his shoulder: "DARKEN, TRY TO KEEP UP!"
"EASIER SAID THAN DONE! THIS DAME IT PLAYING ROUGH!" Darken called back, breathless.
The direwolf was on him like a shadow—never giving him a second to breathe. Each step was a battle; Darken dodged its jaws, leapt over rocks, while the beast pounced with terrifying strength. Its claws tore through the ground, scattering debris. Every escape attempt was met with another strike, forcing Darken to pivot, flee, and adapt on the fly.
It lunged from above. Then from the right. More than once, it nearly sank its fangs into him from behind, but his sharp reflexes kept him alive by the skin of his teeth. It was a desperate chase—life and death with no room for hesitation. The beast's growls and blood-curdling howls echoed in his ears, and every time he thought he'd gained ground, he found himself back to square one.
Meanwhile, the others reached the gate—just in time to see it slowly creaking open.
"Inside, now!" A deep voice called out from within.
"He's still out there! That wolf's chasing him!" Laro shouted before charging in. Then he yelled back: "Darken, hurry!"
Darken spotted the gate. It was still far—but it was his only chance.The beast was gaining on him with every bound.
Straight escape wouldn't work. He had to think—fast.
He suddenly stopped in his tracks, spun around, and sprinted in the opposite direction, luring the monster away.
The direwolf followed instinctively, driven by bloodlust.
Once Darken had led it far enough, he twisted mid-run and launched himself forward like an arrow—racing straight for the gate.
The wolf roared behind him, its cry so powerful that the ground cracked beneath his feet. Still, Darken didn't look back. He ran with everything he had, his heart pounding so hard it hurt.
He neared a massive stone ridge and hurled himself onto it with a powerful leap—Just then, he heard Adinis scream .
"BEHIND YOU!!"
Darken turned midair—The beast was flying after him, jaws wide open, fangs glinting like the edge of death itself.
In a split-second move, he channeled all his strength into one leg, spun his body midair, and landed a brutal kick right into the wolf's lower jaw.
"I'M SICK OF YOU! JUST STAY ON THE GROUND, DAMN IT!" Darken said.
And The beast's cry echoed across the valley as it crashed to the ground, writhing in pain.
Darken landed hard, pain shooting up his leg—but he didn't stop. Limping, gritting his teeth, he dashed the final stretch and slipped through the gate—just as it slammed shut behind him with a stone-crunching thud.
Gasping for breath, Darken leaned against the wall, chest heaving. He turned his head to the left… and froze again.
Standing before him were three towering figures.
Broad-shouldered, tall, with solid builds and dark skin. Their expressions were stoic, their black hair styled in various distinct ways.
Laro, Adinis, and Toril stood beside them.
Darken didn't recognize the newcomers, but their eyes gave everything away—sharp and primal, almost wolf-like. Some had pronounced canines, and each bore three thin marks carved into their cheeks.
It didn't take long for Darken to realize ، These were Direwolves… in human form.
But what unsettled him more… were their eyes.
A strange mix of astonishment and disbelief—just like the expressions on his companions' faces.
Darken felt a wave of discomfort wash over him and began to wonder:
To tell you the truth… even I don't know how I pulled that off.
But if I say it out loud, would they even believe me?
Damn it... Whatever. At least that nightmare is over. Maybe... probably... who even knows anymore.
His thoughts were cut short as one of the wolf-men approached. Darken instinctively tensed, ready for anything.
"I'm Larveo," the figure said, reaching out a hand. "Hunting commander and second-in-command under Larkles, guardian of the Stone Den's main gate."
He added, with a glint of curiosity in his voice: "May I know your name,... superhuman?"
Darken blinked, caught off guard by the sudden friendliness. Still, he responded cautiously. "Name's Darken. Just... Darken, for now."
He took the offered hand—and was immediately struck by how massive it was.
Wait… did he just call me a "superhuman"...?!
Larveo smiled, then stepped back slightly. "You're strong—truly. I never imagined a human could land a hit like that on a frenzied Direwolf. We respect strength here. And you've earned that."
Despite the praise, something about this entire exchange felt… off. Moments ago, he was prey. Now they spoke to him with reverence?
"Welcome to the Valley of Direwolves. I don't know why you've come, but after seeing what you just did, I'll treat you all as guests." Then he turned to Toril, smiling faintly. "It's been a while, hasn't it? Still the same as I remember you."
Toril's face relaxed slightly, and he responded with hesitant guilt: "Yeah… I didn't make it last time with King Toras. I was injured—my leg...Forgive me."
"No worries. You're here now—and you brought someone... fascinating."
Larveo's gaze shifted sharply toward Darken.
"I wasn't informed there was a human with you, but…"
He narrowed his eyes.
"If I hadn't seen what he just did with my own eyes, I would've welcomed Larken… in a very different way. And trust me, old friend, you wouldn't have liked that."
Darken felt the weight in his tone—it wasn't an empty threat. It sounded more like he would've been the hunted again... but this time, by something fully aware of its actions.
Still, his mind couldn't shake one lingering question. The way they looked… the way they spoke...
"How can wolves take human form?" His voice cut through the tension, confused and pointed. "Aren't humans... hated among your kind? And by the way...My name is Darken. Not Larken!."
Larveo burst into laughter—a deep, chest-rumbling sound, almost like a restrained growl. "It's an ancient spell we possess. It lets us shift into a human form. And yes, we do hate humans… but their physique? It's practically perfect. That, we can't deny."
He stretched out both arms in a theatrical shrug.
"We wolves can switch between our true form and this one. But the transformation has limits. So, we save it for rare occasions—like staying inside the Valley, or when infiltrating enemy territory. There are other reasons… but you get the idea, right?"
"I get it… enough to not ask further," Darken replied calmly, though his eyes remained sharp with doubt. He lowered his head slightly and added with a faint edge: "So… it was seeing me take down that crazed wolf—that's what made you back off? Made you decide not to treat me like prey?"
Larveo chuckled again, a wicked glint in his eye as he bared two perfect rows of sharp fangs : "Exactly!"
At least try to deny it out of basic courtesy... if you have any!.
Darken thought, inwardly scowling—though he didn't show it on his face.
Once the laughter faded, Larveo gestured to the two other wolf-men standing silently nearby.
"These two are Areki and Madli. Twin brothers. The only way to tell them apart is the way they do their hair."
Areki gave a small wave. He had short hair, held back with a white headband. Madli's hair was longer, tied back with a red one.
Both greeted him in near-perfect unison: "Hello."
But Toril didn't give them time for pleasantries. He stepped forward, clearly tense, voice urgent: "We don't have time for formalities. Larveo, my friend... we need to meet with Lord Kazler. Immediately. It's urgent—something that can't wait."
His tone made it clear—this wasn't routine. Larveo raised a brow, crossing his arms, studying Toril intently. "Why? The monthly talks were concluded. The agreement's sealed.What more is there to discuss?"
Laro moved to speak, but before he could—Darken stepped forward.
His voice was calm, firm. "I'm the one who came here. I have something to offer. And I want to negotiate… directly with King Kazler."
He looked Larveo in the eye. "And from what I've seen of you… I think you believe I've earned that right. Don't you?"
His words sliced through the moment like a blade. Larveo stared at him—not turning his head, just his eyes—then, slowly, faced him fully. That sharp smile still clung to his face.
"Yes… you're worthy of that, Larken."
And somewhere deep within, a silent voice echoed .
This human… I have to admit, I really like him.
There's something in him. Something... unshakable.
To Darken, it didn't feel like a victory—not in the traditional sense. But he knew he'd taken a step forward. A significant one. Even if it was driven by circumstance rather than choice…
What mattered was—he was getting closer.
A faint, sarcastic grin crossed his lips."Name's Darken, you Facking idiot. Darken. Not Larken."
Larveo returned the smile with a slight nod, then gave him a strange look…A look that blended respect, curiosity—
And perhaps, for the first time ever… Something close to admiration for a human.