Life at the outpost settled into a fragile rhythm—one held together by effort, routine, and constant tension.
By day, they worked.
They reinforced the crude walls, gathered firewood, and followed Colin's instructions to set traps and forage for edible plants. Every task had a purpose. Every movement conserved strength.
By night, they gathered around the fire.
A single pot of hot soup.
A fleeting warmth.
A brief illusion of safety.
For a while, it was almost enough to make them forget—
They were still prey.
—
Until the tenth night.
Deep into the latter half, the forest lay silent.
Only Goff remained awake, leaning against the wall, bow within reach, ears tuned to the shifting whispers of the wind.
Then—
Clang!
A sharp metallic sound shattered the stillness.
The warning trap.
Triggered.
Goff's eyes snapped open. His body moved before thought, hand already gripping his bow.
At the same instant—
Colin's eyes opened.
No confusion.
No delay.
He rose soundlessly, like a blade slipping free of its sheath, fingers closing around the dagger beside him.
Then—
"Awoooo—!"
A long, mournful howl tore through the night.
Another answered.
Then another.
From all directions.
A web of sound tightened around the outpost.
Inside, panic exploded.
"It's night wolves!" someone whispered, voice trembling. "They're hunting!"
Fear spread like wildfire.
"Don't panic!"
Colin's voice cut through it—cold, steady, unyielding.
It anchored them.
He stepped outside in one fluid motion, eyes already scanning.
Goff was on the wall, bow drawn.
"Hold the wall. Fire at will," Colin ordered.
"Light every torch. Block the entrance. Use fire to keep them back."
Clear.
Precise.
No room for doubt.
The others moved.
Hands shaking, they lit torch after torch. Flames rose, flickering wildly, forming a barrier of fire at the narrow entrance.
Lena, pale but resolute, raised a burning branch with both hands.
The line held.
But Colin—
Did not stay behind it.
He walked forward.
Past the fire.
Into the open courtyard.
Alone.
Dagger held in reverse grip.
Waiting.
Watching.
—
They came.
Shadows first.
Then eyes.
One pair.
Two.
Three—
More than a dozen.
Green light flickered in the darkness like drifting ghosts.
Blackwood night wolves.
Larger than common wolves. Lean. Starving. Their black fur swallowed the night, making them nearly invisible until they moved.
Drawn by scent.
By weakness.
By hunger.
"Loose!"
Goff's arrow cut the tension.
A wolf fell instantly, an arrow buried deep in its throat.
The pack stirred.
But did not retreat.
Hunger outweighed fear.
They spread out, testing the fire, circling, probing for weakness.
Lena thrust her torch forward with a cry. Flames flared, forcing one wolf back with a yelp.
The fire worked—
For now.
Goff's arrows flew again.
Precise.
Relentless.
Another wolf dropped.
Then another.
But Colin—
Did not move.
His gaze had shifted.
Beyond the pack.
To the rear.
—
It stood there.
Larger.
Darker.
A scar cut across one eye, twisting its face into something savage.
The alpha.
Still.
Watching.
Calculating.
Colin understood immediately.
This fight wouldn't end—
Until that one died.
Their eyes met.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then—
The alpha stepped back.
Lowered its body.
Ran.
Not toward the fire—
But toward a broken section of the wall.
"Oh no—!" Goff shouted, trying to adjust his aim.
Too late.
The wolf leapt.
A black arc through firelight.
It cleared the wall.
Landed—
And lunged.
Straight for Colin.
—
Time slowed.
Fangs gleamed.
Rotting breath hit his face.
"Brother Colin!" Lena screamed.
But Colin—
Moved forward.
Not back.
His body twisted sharply, impossibly, slipping past the strike by a hair's breadth. The wind of the wolf's attack brushed his face.
His hand blurred.
Five fingers—
Like claws.
Sshhk!
Blood sprayed.
A deep gash tore open along the wolf's side.
It howled.
Not in fear—
In rage.
It landed, rolled, and struck again—faster, more vicious, claws cutting off every escape.
This time—
Colin didn't evade.
He stepped in.
A low growl escaped him.
Man and beast collided.
—
Claws.
Steel.
Flesh.
They tore into each other without restraint.
The wolf's strikes raked his arms, drawing blood.
Colin answered in kind.
Dagger flashing.
Claw striking.
Every movement sharp. Brutal. Efficient.
No defense.
Only exchange.
Injury for injury.
His body moved on instinct and memory—every motion a living embodiment of the technique etched into him.
Not human.
Not beast.
Something in between.
—
Goff froze.
He couldn't shoot.
They were too close.
Too entangled.
One mistake—
And he'd kill Colin.
The others could only watch.
Stunned.
Terrified.
Awed.
—
Then—
An opening.
A fraction of a second.
The wolf faltered.
Old strength spent.
New strength not yet gathered.
Colin saw it.
Took it.
He dropped low, dodging snapping jaws—
And struck upward.
The dagger drove into the wolf's jaw.
Deep.
To the hilt.
The wolf convulsed—
But did not fall.
With its last strength, it lashed out—
Bang!
Its paw slammed into Colin's chest.
He flew back, crashing hard into the wall.
Blood surged up his throat.
But he stood.
Forced himself up.
Eyes blazing.
Wild.
Unyielding.
The wolf staggered, choking, dying—
But still standing.
So was he.
Colin moved.
Fast.
Relentless.
Before it could fall—
His hand became a claw.
And drove forward.
Straight into its eye.
Crunch.
Silence.
The wolf collapsed.
Dead.
—
A voice echoed in his mind.
[Blackwood Night Wolf killed. Kill Points +50][Additional kills: 3. Kill Points +15]
He ignored it.
Didn't need it.
The result was already clear.
—
Outside, the remaining wolves hesitated.
Then—
Broke.
Whining.
Retreating.
They dragged their dead and vanished into the darkness.
The forest swallowed them whole.
—
Silence fell.
Heavy.
Complete.
All eyes turned to Colin.
Standing there.
Covered in blood.
Chest caved.
Wounds open.
Yet upright.
Unbroken.
Something had changed.
Not just in him—
But in how they saw him.
No longer a provider.
No longer just a survivor.
Something greater.
Something dangerous.
A protector.
A predator.
A king born in blood.