The clearing was a disaster.
Torn fur covered the ground like black snow.
Dark blood soaked into the soil beneath broken branches and crushed grass, filling the air with a thick metallic smell. The bodies of the wolves still lay scattered everywhere—forty-seven of them, sprawled across the battlefield in twisted heaps.
The forest itself had gone quiet again.
Not the eerie silence of hunting predators.
But the stunned silence of a battlefield after the storm had passed.
In the center of it all, Evan and Lyra were still standing—locked in a quiet embrace.
Lyra's arms were wrapped firmly around him, holding him close as if she had not yet convinced herself he was truly safe.
Evan didn't complain.
Honestly… he didn't really want to move either.
The warmth was nice.
The quiet was nice.
Also, he was ninety percent sure that if Lyra let go right now his legs might just collapse entirely.
So he stayed there, resting against her shoulder.
For a moment, everything felt calm.
Then Evan's brain started working again.
And unfortunately for the universe, Evan's brain had once belonged to a software developer.
Okay… let's review the situation, he thought.
Forty-seven wolves.
All aggroed at once.
All apparently perfectly coordinated.
His eye twitched slightly.
Yeah. No.
That spawn rate is completely broken.
His internal monologue continued with increasing irritation.
Seriously. Who designed this system?
Forty-seven enemies in one encounter?
Zero warning?
No scaling difficulty?
No cooldown timer?
No balance patch?
He mentally imagined opening a bug report.
""Enemy Spawn Rate: Completely Unbalanced Developer Notes: Please fix immediately before player dies.""
Evan let out a quiet snort.
Lyra pulled back slightly, raising an eyebrow.
"You find something amusing?"
Evan quickly wiped some dried blood from his cheek with the back of his hand, trying to look a lot cooler than he actually felt.
"I mean…" he said, shrugging weakly. "I've played enough RPGs—"
He caught himself.
"—I mean… I've practiced enough with you, Lyra."
He gestured vaguely toward the battlefield.
"Totally had it under control."
His voice cracked slightly at the end.
Lyra stared at him.
Her expression was… complicated.
Part impressed.
Part relieved.
Part was extremely close to lecturing him for the next hour.
"You had it under control?" she repeated slowly.
Evan nodded with forced confidence.
"Absolutely."
A pause.
Then Lyra glanced down at his still-shaking hands.
Then, at the pile of forty-seven wolves.
Then back at him.
"…You were seconds from bleeding out," she said flatly.
Evan coughed.
"Details."
Lyra sighed.
Despite herself, the corner of her mouth lifted slightly.
"You did well," she admitted.
Evan blinked.
Lyra rarely gave praise.
Which made the words hit harder than any sword strike.
"Given the number of wolves," she continued, "your survival alone would be considered impressive."
She crossed her arms.
"But defeating all of them—"
Her eyes softened slightly.
"—exceeded my expectations."
Evan's grin widened.
He was about to say something smug—
!~Ding~!
The cheerful sound exploded inside his skull.
Evan froze.
"Oh no," he whispered.
Lyra frowned.
"What?"
But Evan wasn't listening.
Inside his mind, a familiar voice burst with excitement.
[Congratulations, Master! You've successfully cleared the "Unexpected Overpowered Furry Hazard"!]
Evan stared blankly into space.
A massive glowing screen appeared in his vision.
[Reward Granted]
[9,400 System Points Awarded]
Evan's pupils dilated.
…Nine thousand…
Four hundred…
His internal brain immediately began doing math.
Wait.
That's like…
That's like…
HOLY—
Inside his mind, Evan began performing the most enthusiastic victory dance in human history.
I'M RICH.
I AM ABSOLUTELY SYSTEM-CURRENCY RICH.
LOOK AT ME NOW, POVERTY.
Echo giggled inside his head.
[Master looks very pleased.]
Evan's spiritual eyes practically turned into glowing gold coins.
"Forty-seven wolves…" he whispered reverently.
"Worth it."
Lyra tilted her head.
"You are smiling at nothing again."
Evan waved her off.
"Important financial matters."
Another system panel appeared.
Echo spoke again, her tone bright and informative.
A new message unfolded before him.
[System Mission]
[
Training Objective: Eliminate Dread Maw Wolves
Requirements:Kill Dread Maw Wolves.
Reward:200 System Points per wolf. ( Total: 9,400 Points)
]
Evan stared at the screen.
Then he blinked.
Then he squinted.
"…Wait."
He pointed accusingly at the floating display.
"Two hundred points?"
Echo responded cheerfully.
[Yes, Master!]
Evan's eyebrow twitched.
"I just fought forty-seven wolves."
Echo nodded enthusiastically.
[Correct!]
"And that's only two hundred each?"
[Also correct!]
Evan rubbed his temples.
"The system economy is completely broken."
Echo gasped dramatically.
[Master doubts the fairness of the System?!]
"Yes."
Immediately.
Without hesitation.
"Yes, I do."
Evan sighed and finally looked around the clearing again.
Forty-seven wolf bodies.
His stomach suddenly growled.
Loudly.
Evan stared thoughtfully at the pile.
Then slowly turned to Lyra.
"So…" he began.
Lyra narrowed her eyes immediately.
"…What?"
Evan gestured toward the wolves.
"So do we eat these?"
Lyra blinked.
Evan continued.
"Like… wolf BBQ?"
Her expression shifted into pure disgust.
"We are not eating those."
"Why not?"
"Because," she said slowly, "those are uneatable monsters."
She nudged one of the corpses with her boot.
"Their meat is tough, filled with residual Qi corruption, and tastes like burned leather."
Evan frowned.
"…You've tried it?"
Lyra paused.
"…Once."
"And?"
"I regret it deeply."
Evan considered that.
"…Fair."
Lyra folded her arms.
"We can sell the pelts and other materials in the city."
Her tone became more practical.
"Claws, fangs, hides… merchants will buy them."
Evan's eyes lit up.
"Money?"
"Yes."
Evan stood up immediately.
"Let's go."
Lyra blinked.
"Now."
He pointed dramatically toward the horizon.
"Time is money, Lyra!"
"My prince—"
"We strike while the market is hot!"
He gestured at the wolves.
"This is premium loot!"
Lyra placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"No."
Evan froze.
Her grip tightened slightly.
"You," she said calmly, "look like you are about to collapse."
Evan opened his mouth to argue.
Then he saw her expression.
Lyra's Serious Protectress Mode had activated.
The same look she used right before forcing him to run another ten miles during training.
"…I feel fine," he muttered weakly.
"No."
"We could make a fortune."
"No."
"Market timing is important—"
"Evan."
Her voice carried a quiet finality.
"…Yes, Lyra."
"You will eat."
"Yes, Lyra."
"You will rest."
"…Yes, Lyra."
He sighed dramatically.
"Lost market gains…"
Lyra ignored him.
Instead she stepped toward the center of the battlefield.
Forty-seven wolf corpses surrounded her.
She lifted one hand.
A faint glow shimmered from the ring on her finger.
With a casual flick of her wrist—
The bodies vanished.
All forty-seven of them.
Gone.
Stored instantly inside her spatial ring.
Evan blinked.
"…That is still cheating."
Lyra turned back toward him.
"Come."
Before Evan could ask anything—
She grabbed his arm.
Space twisted.
The world warped.
Reality folded inward like a badly compressed file.
Evan gagged.
"I hate teleporting—"
FWOOOM.
The forest vanished.
A heartbeat later—
They reappeared inside the familiar bedroom of their estate.
Evan stumbled forward.
Took three steps.
Then face-planted directly onto the bed.
He didn't even try to stop himself.
"I regret everything," he groaned into the pillow.
But despite the exhaustion…
Despite the pain…
Despite the trauma of spatial teleportation…
A huge grin spread across his face.
9,400 points.
He was rich.
Behind him, Lyra shook her head with quiet amusement.
Then she turned toward the door.
"If you move from that bed," she said calmly, "I will know."
Evan raised a tired thumbs-up without lifting his head.
Lyra allowed herself a small smile.
Then she walked toward the kitchen.
Her prince had fought well.
The least she could do…
Was prepare him a proper meal.