Chapter 29 — The Birth of Hatred

  Year 22,841 of the Dragon Era — Day 141

  Night (continued)

  I was just standing there.

  Looking at my fallen pack.

  My howls tore through the forest—raw, broken, uncontrolled. They weren’t calls for help. They weren’t challenges.

  They were grief.

  That was when the Elder arrived.

  The moment she saw the clearing—

  the bodies,

  the blood,

  the stillness—

  something in her expression fractured.

  She ran to me.

  I didn’t look at her.

  I was staring up at the moons, their pale light washing over everything I had lost. I didn’t know what words were supposed to exist in a moment like that.

  So I said nothing.

  She placed her paw on me anyway.

  “Stay still,” she said softly.

  “I will heal you now.”

  Mana wrapped around my body, careful and deliberate. Bones knit. Flesh closed. Pain dulled—but it did not leave. It couldn’t.

  When she finished, she began the ritual.

  The one performed when Fenrir-blooded fell.

  Lights rose from the bodies of my pack—soft, drifting, gentle. One by one, their souls were guided onward, away from the forest, away from me.

  I watched every single one.

  I didn’t blink.

  I didn’t move.

  And as I stood there, something else settled deep inside me.

  Every Noctyrr’s scent.

  Every aura.

  Every trace of their presence.

  I memorized them all.

  They burned themselves into my memory—and refused to fade.

  When the ritual ended, the clearing felt emptier than before.

  I turned away.

  And began to walk.

  My legs barely worked. My balance was broken. I staggered more than I stepped—but I kept moving.

  The Elder spoke behind me.

  “Kael,” she said.

  “Where are you going?”

  I didn’t answer.

  I just kept walking.

  I heard her footsteps behind me.

  Not rushing.

  Following.

  She could have stopped me easily. Bound me. Forced me down. The Elder had that kind of power—strength vast enough to crush mountains if she wished.

  She didn’t.

  Maybe she understood.

  Or maybe she believed I still needed to choose something on my own.

  “Kael,” she called again, more quietly this time.

  I didn’t respond.

  I walked until my legs trembled.

  Until the trees blurred.

  Until I could feel nothing but motion.

  I didn’t know where I was going.

  Only what direction I refused to turn back toward.

  Behind me was everything I had lost.

  Ahead of me…

  Hate.

  Purpose.

  Revenge.

  That was enough.

  I don’t know how long she followed.

  Until, finally—

  she stopped.

  Her presence faded like a receding storm, powerful and restrained, lingering just long enough to make sure I would not fall dead in the dirt.

  She said one last thing.

  So soft the forest nearly swallowed it.

  “…Live.”

  Not as a command.

  Not as the Elder.

  Not as the Guardian of this forest.

  But as someone who had lost everything once before.

  Then she left.

  And I was alone.

  Truly alone.

  For the first time in my life, the forest felt enormous.

  Not a territory.

  Not a home.

  A world.

  One that no longer cared whether I breathed or not.

  I walked until my body finally failed me.

  I collapsed beneath twisted roots and shattered bark. The night wind howled above, but I could not lift my head to answer it.

  I wasn’t a pack member anymore.

  I wasn’t a son.

  I wasn’t anything.

  Just something that refused to die.

  My eyes closed.

  When I opened my eyes again…

  the world was the same.

  Cold.

  Quiet.

  Merciless.

  The only thing different…

  was me.

  My purpose to live narrowed into one thing.

  Revenge.

  I disappeared from the world for months.

  I didn’t rest.

  I didn’t eat properly.

  I didn’t heal.

  My wounds never closed—they only stacked on top of each other. But pain didn’t slow me. It sharpened me.

  I hunted them.

  Every Noctyrr I could find.

  Some lived alone.

  Some hid behind packs.

  Some thought distance would save them.

  None did.

  I tracked them through mountains and valleys, through storms and silence. I tore them apart one by one. My body bled, broke, and healed wrong each time—but hatred fueled my strength. Hatred kept me alive.

  It became the only reason I breathed.

  And when every Noctyrr I could find had finally fallen…

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  …I didn’t stop.

  The Devourers suffered next.

  Any creature that stood in front of me—strong, proud, threatening—I challenged them all.

  Many times, I should have died.

  Many times, they spared me—out of amusement… or disappointment.

  But I kept chasing strength like my father once did.

  As if becoming stronger could somehow bring them back.

  It didn’t.

  But it changed me.

  Battle after battle, I pushed past limits I didn’t know existed. Control shattered and reforged. Affinities deepened. Instinct sharpened. I mastered every element I could touch—through blood, through exhaustion, through desperation.

  And eventually…

  Something noticed me.

  Something ancient.

  Something wrong.

  It wasn’t a beast.

  A mistake given form — one I would later come to know as a Voidborn.

  Black flesh pulled too tight over bone. Limbs too long. Spine twisted and jagged. Every step it took rotted the ground—grass blackened, bark cracked, even mana itself recoiled.

  Its jaw unhinged wider than anything living should. Teeth like shattered stone, forced into a mouth that shouldn’t exist.

  No breath.

  No heartbeat.

  No life.

  Only emptiness.

  And its eyes—

  I couldn’t even see them.

  Only darkness leaking where they should have been.

  Its attacks were nothing like anything in this world. No element. No law. No balance. Just pure erasure.

  And for the first time since my pack died…

  …I felt fear.

  Not caution.

  Not respect.

  Fear.

  That creature was death given shape.

  And I was trapped.

  Cornered.

  Overwhelmed.

  I truly believed that was where I would die.

  But then—

  I sensed a presence.

  Familiar.

  Ancient.

  Undeniable.

  For a moment, I had forgotten what it felt like.

  Then she stepped into view.

  The Elder.

  The Voidborn turned instantly, as if instinct itself screamed at it. Its body convulsed, and that black, impossible flesh began producing something far worse—pure void aura. Aura was never supposed to be seen… only sensed. Yet the darkness around it was visible. Tangible. Wrong.

  The Elder didn’t flinch.

  The creature shrieked—if you could even call that sound a cry—and unleashed a storm of attacks. Reality twisted with each strike.

  The Elder raised no mana.

  Instead… a white barrier bloomed before us.

  Life force.

  It wasn’t crafted like an ability.

  It was simply will given existence.

  The void crashed into it.

  And broke.

  She stepped forward. Still no mana. Only that same radiant, living essence. With a swipe of her claw, she struck.

  The creature froze mid-motion.

  Its body shattered internally. It didn’t bleed. It didn’t scream. It simply stopped—as if existence itself refused to acknowledge it any longer.

  Yet even broken… it still attacked.

  It felt no pain.

  No fear.

  No hesitation.

  Instead, the darkness around it surged—thickening, tightening, erupting outward like a living storm. The ground cracked beneath its weight. The air warped. If left alone, the clearing itself would have been erased.

  The Elder’s eyes narrowed.

  Not in anger.

  In recognition.

  As if she had seen this too many times before.

  Then she moved.

  Her body shifted into deliberate, flowing motions—ritualistic, ancient, older than mana. Then she threw her head back and howled.

  The sound tore through the world.

  Not loud.

  Not violent.

  Perfect.

  The sky answered.

  It wasn’t mana.

  It was life force — vast, absolute, unquestioning.

  A column of pure white light descended, swallowing the creature whole.

  For a moment, the forest ceased to exist.

  Then the light vanished.

  And so did the Voidborn.

  No corpse.

  No remains.

  No victory cry.

  Simply erased.

  Silence.

  The Elder stood there as if nothing extraordinary had happened. As if destroying something that defied life itself was normal to her.

  My body trembled.

  Not because I feared her.

  But because, for the first time, I understood:

  She had faced things like that before.

  Many times.

  And survived.

  The white light spread across the clearing—pure, cleansing.

  The ground stopped rotting. The air steadied. The darkness vanished as if it had never existed.

  And somehow…

  my wounds closed.

  Strength returned to my legs.

  My breath steadied.

  The pain faded.

  The Elder exhaled slowly.

  Calm again. Controlled.

  As if the terrifying power she displayed was only the surface of what she truly carried.

  She walked toward me.

  Her presence alone settled the forest.

  When she spoke, her voice wasn’t harsh.

  It wasn’t angry.

  It was… questioning.

  “You killed the Noctyrrs responsible for your pack’s massacre,” she said.

  “Your revenge is complete.”

  Her eyes fixed on mine.

  “Then why are you still wandering like a wild beast… chasing nothing but strength?”

  I couldn’t answer.

  Because she was right.

  Silence pressed against me.

  “Return to your territory,” she said.

  “Defend it. Creatures will invade it if left alone. You do not want the land your family lived and died for… to fall into ruin.”

  Her gaze softened—just slightly.

  “Start anew.”

  “Find someone you can rely on.”

  “Grow.”

  “Just like your father… Vaelor.”

  “Make your lineage known.”

  “Do not act like a mindless fool”

  Those words struck deeper than any wound ever had.

  They lit something inside me.

  Purpose.

  Resolve.

  I lowered my head to her—out of respect… and a lingering fear I would always carry.

  “As you wish,” I said quietly.

  No more needed to be spoken.

  I ran.

  As fast as my body allowed.

  Back toward the territory.

  Back toward the life my family left behind.

  The Elder watched me disappear into the forest.

  Silently.

  The moment I returned…

  I did not rest.

  Creatures had already begun invading the territory.

  Strays.

  Predators.

  Things drawn in by the absence of a ruling pack.

  I drove them all out.

  Every last one.

  For cycles, I defended that land alone.

  No pack.

  No family.

  Only duty.

  I hunted anything that threatened it.

  Fought until my body broke.

  Healed.

  Fought again.

  I refused to let the place my pack lived…

  and died…

  be taken.

  That was when I met her.

  Cira.

  She had just turned a hundred moon cycles—

  old enough to leave her pack,

  strong enough to stand alone,

  determined enough to survive without anyone above her.

  She stepped onto that territory not as an enemy…

  but as someone choosing her own path.

  And that was the beginning of everything that followed.

  For a while after Kael finished speaking…

  No one said anything.

  Not Lyra.

  Not Cira.

  Not Borin.

  Not even the pups.

  The night felt heavier.

  Colder.

  Even the mana drifting beneath the twin moons seemed quieter, as if the forest itself was honoring something older than grief.

  I looked at Kael.

  Not as the unshakable leader.

  Not as the strongest being I knew.

  But as someone who had lost everything—

  and kept standing anyway.

  I swallowed.

  What do you even say to something like that?

  There was no apology I could offer.

  No comfort that wouldn’t sound meaningless.

  So I didn’t speak.

  I just stayed there with them.

  Shared silence.

  Shared history.

  Shared weight.

  Cira’s gaze softened.

  Lyra pressed herself closer to Kael without a word.

  The pups leaned against him, not out of innocence this time…

  …but out of understanding.

  At least a little.

  Somewhere inside my chest, a quiet resolve formed.

  If something like that happened again…

  If creatures like those ever came here…

  Then I wanted to stand beside them.

  Not as someone being protected.

  But as someone who could fight with them.

  The forest wind moved gently.

  Kael finally exhaled.

  “…That is enough for tonight,” he said softly.

  Cira moved first.

  She nudged Kael gently, pressing her forehead against his neck.

  Not as a subordinate.

  Not as a warrior.

  As someone who chose him.

  Then she was the one who broke the silence.

  “…You know,” she said softly.

  “Kael wasn’t always this calm… or wise.”

  Several ears twitched.

  Even in the heaviness of the night, that alone drew attention.

  Cira let out a quiet exhale—part sigh, part fond laugh—as she remembered.

  “I left my pack when I turned one hundred,” she said.

  “I wanted to build something new. A future with my own strength. So I wandered… searching for someone like me.”

  Her eyes softened.

  “And then I found his territory.”

  Kael didn’t look at her.

  But his tail twitched.

  “I sensed only one presence,” she continued.

  “Just one. No pack. No family. Nothing. That alone should have been strange. But instead of worrying, I just… approached.”

  She shook her head.

  “I was hesitant. Curious. But before I could say anything, he suddenly appeared—fast, aggressive, and furious.”

  Her tone dropped into a perfect imitation of his voice.

  ‘What is your purpose in my territory?!

  Speak… or die.’

  Some of the pups flinched.

  Varya clicked her tongue quietly.

  I just stared.

  Yeah. That sounded like him.

  “I’ll admit,” Cira said with a small laugh,

  “I was scared. A little offended. But I spoke anyway.”

  ‘Why are you alone?’

  ‘Where is your pack?’

  Kael’s jaw tightened very slightly.

  “He didn’t like that,” Cira continued warmly.

  “Didn’t answer. Didn’t explain. He just glared at me and growled—

  ‘That has nothing to do with you. Leave.’”

  She smiled.

  Not mockingly.

  Fondly.

  “Kael was… rude. Prideful. Harsh. I didn’t understand why then, so I just left. Headed east.”

  Her gaze drifted into the trees as if she could still see that memory.

  “And right as I was leaving, he called after me.”

  Kael finally glanced at her.

  ‘Don’t go that way. It’s dangerous.’

  Cira shrugged lightly.

  “But after being treated like that? I thought—

  Why should I care what you think?”

  A few quiet huffs of amusement escaped around the circle.

  Cira smiled.

  “I was confident back then. Reckless. I ignored him… and kept moving east.”

  I kept moving until I sensed something ahead of me.

  It sensed me too.

  A presence—cold, sharp, and unyielding.

  Just like Kael’s once felt… but harsher.

  It stepped into the clearing.

  A .

  White fur drifting like flowing moonlight, silver streaks glowing faintly across its body. Intelligent eyes. Calm… yet violently territorial.

  Unlike Kael, it didn’t speak.

  It attacked.

  Elements surged—wind tearing trees, ice ripping through the ground, sparks of lightning snapping through the air. I intercepted as best I could, but the difference in power was clear.

  It wasn’t just strong.

  It was experienced.

  I was about to be overwhelmed when Kael arrived.

  His presence slammed into the battlefield like a silent command. With a single strike, he forced distance between us and the Silvorn. His voice was steady, deep, and absolute.

  “Stand down. She is here by mistake. Let her go.”

  For the first time, the Silvorn spoke.

  Her voice was cold… yet proud.

  “I spare no intruder unless they can defeat me. Strength rules territory. That is our law.”

  Her gaze narrowed on Kael.

  “I know you. Vaelor’s son. So you lived.”

  A faint smile touched her face. Not mockery… recognition.

  They walked ahead, stopping several paces apart.

  I turned to Kael.

  “…Why are you here?”

  His answer was simple.

  “A fellow Fenrir-blooded is in danger. That is reason enough.”

  For the first time… I realized Kael wasn’t cruel.

  He was reliable.

  The battle began.

  It wasn’t a clash of beasts.

  It was a war between legends.

  My pack had always warned me—

  Silvorns were apex predators. Territorial. Unstoppable. Packs avoided them unless they wanted to die.

  Yet Kael fought her evenly.

  Fire. Ice. Stone. Wind.

  All elements bent to his command with terrifying precision. No wasted movement. No hesitation. Authority in every strike.

  The fight was brutal, relentless… and honest.

  Eventually, the Silvorn stopped.

  Not because she was beaten into fear.

  Because she acknowledged him.

  She bowed her head slightly.

  “…I yield.”

  She stepped closer to him, meeting his eyes.

  “You are just like him.”

  Then she turned away.

  “Leave my territory. And don’t die pointlessly, Vaelor’s son.”

  Kael let me stay for a while. He told me everything… and I couldn’t leave him alone after that.

  Slowly, I began to understand him. His voice softened when he spoke to me.

  Time passed.

  One day, I saw him smile while talking normally—no walls, no tension. And somehow… that made me happy.

  Without even realizing it, we weren’t just two survivors anymore.

  We were a family.