In a firm tone, Darken spoke before King Kazler, the King of Direwolves and Lord of the Pack in the Ravaged Valley, in the presence of Toril, Adinis, Laro, Larveo, and four guardian wolves standing on either side.
The atmosphere was thick with anticipation as the king contemplated Darken's words in silence—the kind of silence only kings possess, the kind that does not rush into judgment. The others bore visible signs of worry and tension, as if they awaited a decisive verdict to be rendered at that very moment.
As for the wolf Larveo, anxiety was etched into his features; he had not expected to hear such words—nor such audacity. The trio of Elves reacted in varying ways. Laro was fascinated, gazing at Darken with deep admiration, drawn to his strong personality and direct approach.
By the Great Tree… are there truly humans like this one? Incredible!
Laro thought with silent wonder, his eyes tracking Darken's every move.
Adinis, on the other hand, cast him sharp glances filled with anger and hatred. Yet beneath that hostile façade, there lay a hidden respect for his desire to help Princess Eryl, despite having no real connection to her. Even so, she harbored within her an unforgiven guilt—a guilt born of burying the criminal Karl without trial.
Toril remained silent, but his features spoke of deep contemplation, as though something within him had stirred upon hearing Darken's words. They were ordinary on the surface, yet carried profound meaning—leaving a tangible, if unspoken, impact.
This fool…
Toril thought, though not out of anger, but rather a strange, familiar feeling—one that was difficult to describe.
He intends to face that raging wolf alone? He's truly someone... no, he's certainly beyond any ordinary description. Who was I trying to fool in the first place?
In the end… I must say it all. They must know the full truth.
He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them as the king's voice rang out.
King Kazler did not respond immediately. He took his time to think, weighing Darken's words carefully, granting him a moment of solemn silence. Darken, for his part, stood firm and patient, as though time itself bore no weight upon him.
Suddenly, the king stood atop the rock that served as his throne—proud and dignified—then took a step forward, descending from the stone to stand face-to-face with Darken.
His descent was heavy, as if another stone had crashed to the ground, the earth trembling beneath his feet as he advanced to confront Darken directly. In that moment, the stark height difference became apparent, forcing Darken to tilt his head upward to meet King Kazler's eyes—eyes as sharp as blades, piercing as though they could see through the soul.
"You, human—you have courage. I admit that," the king spoke in his deep, gravelly voice, before continuing, "But do you have the strength to act on your words? That wolf is powerful. Surviving him once means nothing. It may have just been beginner's luck, as you seem to understand."
Darken didn't hesitate. He spoke immediately after the king finished: "Do you think I don't know that?"
The king was slightly taken aback—his eyebrows rose in a rare reaction, mirrored on the faces of the others present. Darken's tone was unlike before, carrying both confidence and hesitation, resolve and tension… It stirred conflicting emotions within them, as if his words held meaning only a few could grasp.
"I know very well how strong and dangerous he is. I've seen the savagery in his eyes… that overwhelming urge to kill and devour—I know it better than anyone," Darken said in a heavy tone, then paused, as if a fragment of his past had surfaced.
Then he continued : "You may think I'm insane… or even a hypocrite, but that doesn't matter. My decision is clear, and my will cannot be changed. I'll deal with the raging wolf by whatever means I possess. In return, offer us your blood to heal Princess Eryl. What say you?"
The king saw a burning spark in Darken's eyes—a mix of resolve, confidence, and fierce desire, an unyielding will that showed no trace of hesitation or weakness. That was enough to draw a faint smile across his transforming face. Slowly, he leaned his face toward Darken's. With each inch the distance closed between them, Kazler's features gradually began to shift, taking on a semi-wolfish form. His sharp, feral eyes locked onto Darken's before he spoke in a deep voice laced with a soft, thunder-like growl:
"You possess a strong spirit—I acknowledge that."
He exhaled slowly before continuing : "So be it... I will grant you my blood to heal Princess Eryl, daughter of Toras... In return, you will help us restore the state of the valley."
Each word came out in a harsh voice, dripping with intensity—something between speech and instinct. A growl that resembled the one preceding a predator's strike, yet there was no real hint of malice in it. It wasn't a threat; it was a contradictory sensation that was hard to define.
Darken was surprised by the offer. This wasn't what he had proposed at the start of the deal. He asked in clear confusion and a raised tone:
> "What do you mean by that? Help restore the valley? I told you I'd handle the raging wolf. What more do you want from me? I don't have time to—"
But before he could finish, the king cut him off in a firm tone: "Listen closely. The raging wolf is not our only problem."
The king stepped back and tilted his head slightly upward, as if recalling something, then continued:
"Those black, gelatinous creatures—or whatever color they are—are the cause of his rage. They're the ones that corrupted our minds and twisted us into what we should never have become. They must be driven from our land. Only then… might things return to how they once were."
Then, with a clearer voice, he added:
"Our lands… our valley… have been drowning in dread and despair ever since those outsiders stepped foot here, casting their cursed spells. We've been living in unbearable sorrow and lethargy. What's required of you is simple — face the raging wolf, while the children of the valley, with help from the Elves, erase the remnants of those spells. What do you say?"
In the end, he directed his final question at Darken in a relatively calm tone—yet one still steeped in undeniable authority.
Darken needed a moment to process it all. As he cast his thoughts back, particularly to the wolves' recent strange behavior—which had seemed completely out of character—he began to find real logic in the king's words. He didn't know who those outsiders were, or what they intended with their spells, but the picture was becoming clearer, and the situation more complex than he had imagined.
"Very well. We have a deal," Darken said firmly, then added,
"But I need more details about what the others will be doing while I handle that wild beast."
"Larveo will inform you of everything you need to know," the king answered, then added without looking at him,
"And now... go prepare yourself. We don't have time for rest, and I believe you know that better than anyone."
Then the king turned his back without waiting for a response.
Darken didn't reply. He simply turned to his companions and walked away with calm steps, accompanied by Larveo, who moved alongside him. Within moments, they had all left, leaving only the king and four of his loyal guards behind.
Silence fell, broken only by the crackling of torch flames along the walls of the den. Minutes passed before the king slowly turned, his gaze fixed on the path Darken and the others had taken. He spoke in a low voice, carrying an emotional weight rarely seen in him: "You want to deal with the raging wolf? Very well..."
he muttered, then added in a whisper that sounded more like a confession: "I don't expect you to stop him... or even survive him. But if it happens... if you truly have that much strength...".
Then he lowered his head and whispered so faintly it was nearly inaudible: "Only then... will I prepare myself."
"...Prepare myself for the day I always wished would never come..."
Meanwhile, Darken and his companions had left the Wolf King's den and returned to the fortress courtyard. There, Darken was deeply focused, immersed in his recent memories—replaying every detail of his previous clash with the raging wolf, analyzing and deducing, searching for a way to win.
That wolf is fast... and unbelievably tough. Even after I kicked his jaw with all my strength, I felt as though my entire leg shook... I think I was lucky it didn't break from the impact.
Darken thought deeply. It hadn't been an ordinary fight, and his opponent wasn't a typical foe.
But that's not enough... I need to find a way to defeat him. With my current abilities, I can't even beat Larveo in his semi-human form. So how do I face a fully-transformed raging wolf?
Darken sighed heavily, silence spreading inside him—silencing even his own thoughts... but suddenly, a sharp idea struck his mind like a blade.
Kill.
He froze for a moment, startled. A voice inside his head—clear, loud—uttered just one word.
Kill.
I must kill.
The word echoed again, but this time it was different… it wasn't a stray thought. It was a voice—loud, strange—as if it wasn't coming from within him, but seeping into his soul from another source.
Darken began to feel its impact—real, tangible. Suddenly, he clutched his head, as if a sharp pain had pierced through it, drawing worried glances from those around him, unintentionally attracting everyone's attention.
"What's wrong with you, Larkin? Does your head hurt now or what?" Larveo asked after stopping mid-step, his gaze fixed steadily on Darken, staring at him with focused attention.
"I'm called Darken," Darken replied in an unsteady tone, then continued,
"And no… I don't think my head hurts—at least not in any obvious way. I just… feel like something is moving inside it. Something I can't explain."
His voice carried a mix of worry and confusion, as if his thoughts were tangled and clashing in his mind. At that moment, Adinis shot a brief glance at Darken—but it was enough to spark a look of surprise on her face, as if she had noticed something unnatural in his features.
"What's wrong with your eyes?" Adinis suddenly asked in a cautious tone.
Darken, clearly puzzled, responded: "My eyes? What about them? I can see just fine. Do they look strange?" His tone carried something subtle… perhaps something bordering on hostility.
"I'm not entirely sure…" Adinis replied, still visibly perplexed and uncertain.
"But for a moment, it looked like your eye color changed… like they reverted to their original shade. That's what I saw, at least."
"What do you mean, Adinis?" Toril asked, a growing discomfort in his voice at the direction this conversation was taking.
"Well… it was as if a trace of red flashed in his eyes for a second, and then they went back to gold, like before," Adinis said, trying to describe what she had seen, though she wasn't entirely confident in the details.
"You mean his pupils?" Laro asked, trying to find a logical explanation.
"Yes, his pupils exactly… they shifted to red for a moment, then turned back to gold. I don't know how or why, but honestly… it was kind of frightening."
At that moment, Darken realized something he had forgotten ever since he set foot on the continent of Andrastis… Despite being fascinated by his new body—its unique ability to access information by simply opening and closing his eyes, and its unnatural agility—there was one simple detail he had overlooked: his eyes.
He remembered clearly that in his previous life as a slave, his eyes would turn blood-red under sunlight. But now? They were golden? It was no longer clear to him… nothing in this body felt as it once was. He even felt a strange urge to see his own reflection in a mirror.
What made things even stranger was what Adinis had said about the change in his pupils—exactly when those strange thoughts and the intrusive voice had struck him, as if someone else were speaking inside his head.
Darken rubbed his face with the palm of his hand, trying to pull himself together, then spoke firmly: "Let's focus on what really matters right now."
He lifted his gaze to Larveo and said : "Tell me everything you know… anything that could help. A weakness? A trick? A trait specific to the direwolf race? Anything that might give me an edge." His urgency was clear—and rightfully so, for someone preparing for his first real battle.
Larveo took a few seconds to think, then replied in a calm but firm voice: "I can't share our weakness with you. You're not trusted yet—and revealing such a thing, especially in front of the Elven kind who don't know our vulnerabilities, would make us an easy target at any time."
He crossed his arms over his chest before continuing:
"But if you're looking for useful information, here's what I can tell you…"
"First: that wolf… he's astonishingly fast, with razor-sharp reflexes. That's typical of our race—so don't allow yourself to get distracted, or you'll be bitten before you even realize what happened."
"Second: in full wolf form, our skin becomes extremely tough. Don't waste your energy throwing random punches—you won't do damage, and you might end up with broken bones, turning yourself into an easy meal."
"And lastly: don't even think about hiding behind rocks or any obstacles. Our sense of smell is stronger than you can imagine. We can track our prey with pinpoint accuracy—and once we choose to strike, we become as silent as seasoned hunters."
Then he added with a faint smile: "And no, that's not a weakness. Don't get your hopes up."
Darken absorbed every word, weighing their usefulness, analyzing and searching for any thread that might lead him toward victory. But it all felt like general guidance—none of it opened a clear path to defeating that beast.
"And what about the spell?" Darken asked, his mind returning to the heart of the plan. "How are you planning to get rid of it? Let's say you find the remnants of it… if that wolf touched it and turned into what he is now, do you really think none of you would end up like him if you touched it too?"
He turned again to Larveo, his voice now tinged with irritation: "How exactly are you planning to do this? I don't want to fight a raging monster in a life-or-death battle just to cover for you, only to find myself facing you next."
His tone was noticeably tense, spreading unease among the three Elves, who now felt a strange sense of anxiety about him. Larveo locked his eyes onto Darken's face, studying him closely, reading every expression and tone… then finally responded in a serious voice:
"Simply put… we'll use a counter-spell."
"A counter-spell?!" Adinis exclaimed in surprise.
"Where did you get it from?" Laro asked, burning with curiosity.
Larveo answered in a solemn tone, one that matched the weight of his words: "A stranger came to us… during the first few weeks after it all began. He crafted many spells for us—among them, one that counteracts the curse. He never told us who he was, and he asked for nothing… except for one thing, should the spell succeed."
"And what was that?" Adinis asked, her curiosity intensifying.
Larveo replied : "He asked us to honor the one who stands there… in that place. To return him to where he belongs, so that what must be spread… will be spread. Because that is the only way to endure."
Then he added in a quieter voice : "But telling you this now means nothing. King Kazler must speak those words himself. That was the stranger's condition."
Mystery followed by more mystery… and complexity upon complexity. That was the direction things were heading—until Darken began to feel genuine discomfort, as though every step led him into deeper difficulty, or toward something like a wall, with no clear threads pointing to a solution.
Who is this stranger who gave them the counter-spell?
Doesn't he seem a bit suspicious...? But… wait... hold on...
Damn it! My head! My head hurts! But… why can't I feel the pain? It's like my head hurts… without actually hurting? What the hell is going on?
Darken's thoughts descended into true chaos for a moment. Something... scrambled his mind. And yet, oddly enough, despite the sensation of pain, no trace of discomfort showed on his face. As if the pain was... imaginary? Or both real and unreal at the same time.
"Kill… I must kill… nothing else..." Darken whispered those words, his voice barely audible.
"What? Did you say something?" asked Larveo, puzzled, as he hadn't clearly heard what Darken had just muttered.
"Huh? No, I didn't say anything."
Then Darken thought to himself, I feel like I said something… but what exactly? Damn it… what is all this, all of a sudden?
Without any further conversation, the group resumed their steps until they reached the same stone gate they had entered through earlier into the fortress—where both Ariki and Madle stood guard in silence.
"Alright. Since we've spent enough time talking and walking, we'll begin the mission from here." Larveo said firmly, before continuing: "Unfortunately, we have no weapons suitable for you in this fight. So you'll have to avoid direct combat as much as possible, Larkin." He pointed directly at Darken as he gave these instructions.
"My name is Darken. And how exactly am I supposed to avoid direct confrontation with him? That's almost inevitable—it could happen the moment I step outside!" Darken replied, his voice challenging Larveo's logic with a tone of reasonable protest.
At that moment, Adinis stepped forward and extended her hand, in which she held a medium-sized dagger—its handle made of dark brown wood, and the blade sharpened on only one side.
"This dagger was a gift from Eryl…" she said as she handed it to him. "It's precious to me. But since we have to do whatever it takes to help her, I'm willing to give it up for her sake." She placed it firmly into Darken's hand.
Then she added : "I know it's probably impossible, but try not to break it… though I doubt you can avoid that."
She continued, her voice filled with both anger and emotion: "I don't trust you—and I hate you for burying that bastard who caused everything we're suffering now. But even so… I wish you luck. I hope you succeed in dealing with that raging wolf, so we can help the other wolves… and earn the king's blood in return."
Then she stepped back slightly, her voice steady but loaded with feeling: "And you'd better stay alive… so you can apologize to Eryl. She deserves that—especially after you paid respect to the one who hurt her… Understood?"
Darken listened carefully to every word she said and didn't reply until she was done. He gripped the dagger in his left hand, then looked at her and said in a serious tone:
"Yes. I understand."
Then he added in a low but firm voice: "And I don't plan on dying now. There's something I need to deal with… or more precisely, someone."
In his mind, the image of Jabelin appeared clearly. His gaze burned with hatred, and his body filled with resolve for the confrontation ahead. He stepped forward to the center of the stone gate, glanced around, and said firmly: "Open the gate for me… It's time to play with that pesky pup."
At that, Larveo nodded to Ariki and Madle, who immediately moved to open the gate, pushing it with their hands, while Darken began counting the seconds in his head before the launch. The first chapter of the distraction mission had begun… along with the fight for survival.
And at the same time… King Toras was on the move as well.