With nothing else pressing to do, I decided to get familiar with my newfound abilities.

The changes were subtle but unmistakable. The few points I’d allocated to Astral Body were already making a difference. I felt stronger, more agile—not Olympic athlete strong, but definitely better than the perpetually out-of-shape version of me from before. It was like waking up from a lifetime of stiffness. My aura had also thickened, no longer the weak, flickering flame of a candle—it now felt more like a small, steady fire. My form was more solid, less ghostly. Not quite human, but tangible in a way that felt... real.

My aura control had extended to about four feet, so I began experimenting. Forming longer blades seemed like a logical next step. I’d always dreamed of becoming a legendary swordsman—epic duels in the rain, my blade cutting through flesh, bone, and, of course, raindrops. The romanticized kind of stuff you see in movies.

I started by shaping a three-foot blade attached to my arm. The results were... underwhelming. Swinging it felt awkward—my wrist didn’t have the range of motion, and the added weight threw off my balance. After a few clumsy attempts, I detached a chunk of energy to form an independent weapon. It cost me around 40 energy units, but I forged ahead, shaping the blob into a sword.

What I ended up with was technically an arming sword: straight-edged, double-sided, with a rudimentary handle. But the design left a lot to be desired. The edge was uneven, the hilt felt uncomfortable, and the balance was all wrong.

And honestly? It wasn’t practical. Sure, it looked cool, but I realized slashing at wolves wasn’t going to cut it—no pun intended. Taking down a single wolf would take time I didn’t have, especially if I was outnumbered. I needed something better.

Something with range. Something simple. Something deadly.

That’s when I morphed the energy blob into a spear. Four feet long, with a pointed tip—it was essentially just a knife on a stick. Not exactly glamorous, but there’s a reason spears dominated the battlefield for centuries. Sure, they were cheap to make, but they were also easy to learn. Stabbing? I could do stabbing.

A master spearman would probably laugh at my crude design, but I didn’t care. I was being pragmatic, and that counted for something.

I practiced a few swings and thrusts, the spear feeling more natural in my hands with each motion. The added dexterity made a difference, but my strikes still lacked the precision of the energy spikes I could form directly from my hands. Then again, I wasn’t aiming for elegance. I’d take safety over precision any day.

This was just the beginning. If I wanted to survive this hellscape, I needed to keep adapting—and this spear might be the first step.

With my spear in hand, I moved deeper into the forest. The weight of my new weapon in my grip made me feel slightly safer—at least enough to push forward. Another group of Rotwolves caught my attention: four in total—three mature wolves and one smaller, regular one.

The leader stood out immediately. It wasn’t the largest of the pack, but its presence was undeniable. Muscles bunched under its decaying fur, and a wicked scar carved across its left eye. The other wolves lingered submissively around it, deferring to its every move. This was no ordinary leader; it was cunning.

Bracing myself against a tree, I dropped an energy sphere at my feet and shouted. My voice echoed through the forest, loud enough to rattle my nerves. The wolves hesitated for only a moment before they lunged toward me, their feral hunger overriding caution. To them, I was just another easy meal.

As they closed in, I jumped and activated Levitation, morphing the sphere into a spike in one smooth motion. My tried-and-true strategy worked flawlessly. The leader impaled itself on the glowing shard, its body writhing as it collapsed, dead within seconds.

I didn’t wait to celebrate. As I descended, I pointed my spear downward and aimed for the nearest mature wolf. My strike wasn’t perfect—the tip of the spear plunged through its spine instead of its neck—but it was enough to leave it crippled. Its growls turned into pathetic whimpers, unable to move.

The remaining wolves tangled together in the chaos, giving me just enough time to reorient myself. I planted my feet and charged with my spear. My thrust pierced the chest of one mature wolf, and as I leapt back to avoid retaliation, the last wolf raked its claws across my chest.

Stolen story; please report.

Three burning lines of pain erupted across my torso, accompanied by the familiar draining sensation. My energy dipped, but the adrenaline surging through me kept me focused. With a few quick stabs, I dispatched the final beast. Exhaustion hit me as the forest grew quiet again, but I couldn’t help feeling satisfied with my work.

The crippled wolf still clung to life, struggling to turn and face me. Its pitiful snarls reminded me of how vulnerable it was. But instead of finishing it off quickly, I paused. This was the perfect opportunity to test my newest skill, Astral Echo.

Cautiously, I approached the struggling creature. It whimpered as I pinned its leg to the ground with my spear, and the sound made my heart sink. Monster or not, this was just plain torture and I was in its home—I was the invader. I was using its suffering to fuel my childish dreams.

The thought lingered for only a moment before I forced it away. It was too late to stop now. Breaking off a small fragment of energy from my spear, I braced myself.

The connection hit me instantly, the wolf’s raw emotions surging into my mind. They weren’t as complex as the echoes I’d felt from the Elder Rotwolf, but they were no less powerful. Hunger—endless and insatiable—was its driving force. Beneath that was a longing for the pack, a primal need for connection and survival.

I pushed a jolt of my consciousness through the bond, just enough to deepen the link. The resistance was minimal this time, but as I was on the verge of falling into the golden ocean of its essence, the connection snapped.

The wolf let out a choked cry, and blood erupted from its eyes, nose, and mouth. It slumped to the ground, lifeless.

I staggered back, looking at the grotesque result of my actions. My dry humor usually helped me cope with situations like this, but this time, the words felt hollow. Instead of spiraling, I forced myself to shift focus and checked my notifications.

Level Up!

You have reached Level 12.

Skill Increase!

Astral Echo: Level 2.

Despite the progress, I couldn’t shake the weight of the moment. The normal wolf didn’t grant me any energy, and I quickly realized why. It seemed I wouldn’t gain anything from creatures too far below my level.

I sat down, my chest aching from the claw marks and my mind heavy with what I’d done. Progress came with a cost, and I was beginning to wonder how much more I was willing to pay.

Six hours had passed, and still no sign of Velarion. A deep sense of unease crept into my thoughts, threatening to root me in place. Did it forget about me? Was I truly stranded here? The image of slowly losing my sanity, becoming corrupted like the wolves around me, gnawed at the edges of my resolve.

No! That can’t be it. Velarion must be watching over me—it’s his damn job!

Clinging to that thought like a lifeline, I pushed forward. Sitting still wouldn’t help, and I was beginning to understand the wolves around my level. Staying here, wasting time on under-leveled creatures, felt like a bigger threat—not just to my progress, but to the fragile humanity I was desperately holding onto.

Two hours later.

I had dispatched several more packs, pushing through with growing efficiency. Killing the wolves felt disturbingly natural now. Each fight sharpened my strategy, making the next encounter faster and smoother.

Between battles, I allowed myself a moment to recover and distracted myself by checking my status:

Name: Alex

Title: Ascendant (???)

Level: 22 (2605 / 2760 EXP)

Attributes:

Astral Body: 22

Astral Mind: 37

Astral Spirit: 22

Skills:

Levitation (Common): Level 11

Manifestation (Common): Level 18

Astral Sight (Common): Level 8

Inspection (Common): Level 6

Astral Echo (Unique): Level 3

Active Quests:

Rot and Redemption

Kill 100 Rotwolves (95/100)

Kill the Alpha

As I moved, I noticed that the forest wasn’t as lifeless as I initially thought. Small rodents scurried through the undergrowth, their decaying forms mirroring the wolves. I spotted wild rabbits and even found faint deer tracks leading deeper into the woods.

It seemed the higher the wolves' level, the better the quality of their hunting grounds. A grim hierarchy governed even this corrupted wilderness.

I was following the faint sound of another potential encounter when a peculiar, high-pitched howl caught my attention. It was faint and... oddly cute? Curiosity pulled me toward the sound.

I arrived at the mouth of a cave, where the smell of decay was suffocating. The stench rolled out in waves, mixing with the cold, damp air. Steeling myself, I ventured inside.

The cave was shallow—a murky pool of stagnant water reflected the dim light, and a few jagged rocks dotted the floor. But the real sight was far more chilling: six small, decaying wolf pups, playfully nipping and tumbling over one another. It was a grotesque contradiction—horrifying and undeniably adorable.

My heart sank when I saw the elder wolf hunching protectively over them.

Matriarch Rotwolf (Level 30)

The matriarch of this once-proud pack, wasting her remaining energy to protect her young.

The matriarch was in terrible shape. Her legs trembled under her own weight, her mangy fur clinging to her skeletal frame. She growled low and deep, positioning herself between me and the pups.

I froze.

“This is too much,” I muttered. “I’m not going to be branded as a puppy killer. No, sir. I’m out of here.”

I began to back away slowly, but it was too late. Her dull, sunken eyes locked onto me, and her growls grew louder. Despite her condition, she lunged with surprising speed. I barely dodged, stumbling back into the cave wall.

She wasn’t going to let me leave.

My thoughts raced. Killing her wouldn’t be hard in her state, but it wasn’t about difficulty. It was about me. What kind of person would I become if I struck her down here?

Before I could decide, a deep, resonating howl pierced through the air. My blood ran cold as it grew louder, closer. Something was coming.

I hesitated. I couldn’t risk being caught between two threats, but the matriarch wasn’t giving me a choice. With a grim determination, I stabbed forward. My spear pierced her heart, and she fell silently, her protective instincts still etched into her expression.

I barely had time to process what I’d done before the den trembled.

From the darkness, a hulking figure emerged, its presence swallowing the room.

The Alpha Rotwolf stepped into the light. Its fur was matted with patches of decay, but faint streaks of silver shimmered through the rot. The creature towered over any wolf I’d faced before, its massive frame exuding raw power.

Its glowing yellow eyes locked onto me, not with mindless hunger, but with cold, calculated intent.

It wasn’t just defending its territory.

It was protecting its young.