[3 ½ years later]

It's been over three years since I last saw him. The wolf. My old rival.

The memory is still vivid—the sharp claws, the glowing yellow eyes, the way he fought with ruthless precision. Back then, I was just a boy barely holding onto life, relying on desperation and instinct to survive. Now, things are different.

I've trained for this day, pushing myself through years of discipline and pain. I've achieved the second mana circle, and my mana heart now beats with 75% efficiency—a testament to my progress. I've made Liam an ally, showing him the truths of this world, shaping him into someone who understands the game we're all playing.

But today isn't about allies or strategies. Today, it's about unfinished business.

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The forest stretches out before me, dense and alive. The air is heavy with the scent of moss and damp earth, and the faint rustle of leaves whispers in the wind. Sunlight filters through the canopy, casting dappled shadows on the ground.

I crouch low, my eyes scanning the dirt for signs. It doesn't take long.

There, pressed into the soft soil, is a footprint.

I place my hand beside it, measuring the size. It's larger than my own, the edges rectangular and sharp. The faint grooves from the claws tell me everything I need to know.

"Bigger than mine and rectangular," I mutter, a small smirk tugging at my lips. "Nice."

Wolf.

The track is fresh, maybe a day old at most. The edges are still defined, not yet eroded by time or wind. I rise to my feet, my eyes tracing the direction the paw points toward.

I take a step forward, then pause. Always check for more.

I sweep the area, moving slowly, my gaze combing the ground. A few feet ahead, near a patch of damp soil by a water pit, I find another print.

"The second footprint," I murmur, crouching again to inspect it.

This one is deeper, pressed firmly into the wet earth. The weight of the wolf must have shifted here, perhaps to drink or scout the area. I touch the edge of the print, feeling the faint chill of the damp ground.

He's moving steadily. Purposeful. Not running, not wandering.

I glance at the water, its surface still rippling faintly. My reflection stares back at me, golden eyes sharp and focused.

I rise again, following the trail deeper into the forest. The air grows cooler, the canopy thicker. I can feel the hum of mana around me, subtle but constant.

This place... it's alive in a way the rest of the world isn't. The energy here clings to the trees, the soil, even the stones. It's the kind of place that draws monsters, both for its mana and its seclusion.

It's the perfect place to meditate, to strengthen my mana heart further. But it's also dangerous.

I push the thought aside and focus on the task at hand.

A few minutes later, I find the third footprint, this one faintly pressed into a patch of dry leaves.

"The third footprint," I say aloud, crouching to examine it.

I look back, tracing the line of prints I've already found. They form a clear path, straight and deliberate. The wolf isn't meandering; it's heading somewhere specific.

Wolves don't waste energy. They move with purpose. Where are you leading me?

I rise, scanning the surrounding area. My ears pick up the distant chirp of birds and the occasional rustle of branches. I step lightly, my boots making little noise against the forest floor.

The key to tracking is patience. It's about more than just finding footprints. It's reading the signs—disturbed grass, broken twigs, the faint marks of claws against a tree trunk.

I spot a low-hanging branch, its bark scratched with fresh gouges. I run my fingers over it, feeling the rough edges.

You were here, I think, my heart beating faster.

I move forward, deeper into the forest. The mana here feels stronger, almost oppressive. It presses against my skin, buzzing faintly in my ears. It's not just the wolf that makes this place dangerous.

A faint sound pulls me from my thoughts—a low, distant growl.

I freeze, my body tensing as my ears strain to catch more. The growl fades, replaced by the rustle of leaves.

"Just the wind," I mutter, though I know better.

I kneel again, scanning the ground until I find another print, this one slightly smeared as though the wolf had paused mid-step.

You're slowing down, I think, studying the angle of the track. Why?

I glance ahead, where the forest thickens into shadows. The trail leads straight into the heart of the mana-rich zone.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself. My hand instinctively brushes the hilt of my dagger, a precaution more than anything.

"This is it," I whisper, a small smile playing on my lips. "We'll see if you're as sharp as I remember, old friend."

As I move deeper into the forest, the air grows heavier, thick with mana and the faint metallic tang of danger.

And then I feel it—them.

They're closing in. I stop mid-step, my senses sharpening. The faint crackle of leaves, the barely perceptible shift in the air. Predators.

A grin spreads across my face, wild and unrestrained. "Welcome," I say aloud, my voice echoing through the trees.

I unclip the leather water bag strapped to my chest, holding it in one hand. But it's not water inside.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Oh no, I came prepared. The scent of blood wafts into the air as I loosen the cap, its metallic aroma spreading like bait.

The forest grows still, the silence pressing down like a weight. Seconds tick by, the tension thick and electric.

And then they strike.

Five wolves burst out from the underbrush, their yellow eyes gleaming with predatory hunger. Their bodies move like shadows, sleek and deadly.

Perfect.

The smell of blood catches their attention immediately. They sniff the air, their movements shifting from aggressive to calculated. Two of them split off, circling to my left and right, their eyes locked on me.

The one in the center doesn't wait. It leaps, its claws outstretched, murder gleaming in its eyes. Behind it, another wolf crouches, waiting for its turn to pounce.

Time slows as the first wolf hurtles toward me.

I tilt my head, my grin widening. "Greedy little thing, aren't you?"

With a flick of my wrist, the blood from the leather bag rises, twisting into the air like a living thing. I mold it with my will, compressing it, reshaping it into a gleaming crimson blade. The edges shimmer unnaturally, the density and strength rivaling steel.

I thrust the blade upward, its tip aligned perfectly with the wolf's trajectory.

It doesn't have time to react.

The blade pierces through its chest effortlessly, the momentum of its leap driving it further onto the weapon. The sound of flesh tearing and bone splitting fills the air as the wolf's body slides down the blade, splitting cleanly in two.

The two halves hit the ground with a wet thud, blood pooling beneath them.

I laugh, the sound wild and unrestrained. "One down. Who's next?"

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The wolves hesitate for a fraction of a second, their instincts warring with their hunger.

"Don't stop now," I taunt, twirling the blood blade in my hand before letting it dissolve back into liquid. "We're just getting started."

The wolf on my right lunges, its movements precise and lethal. At the same time, the one on the left rushes forward, aiming for my exposed side.

"Clever," I mutter, raising the bag again. With a thought, the blood surges out, splitting into two streams.

For the wolf on the right, I shape the blood into a spiked mace, the crimson weapon solidifying in my hand. As it leaps, I swing the mace in a wide arc, the spikes slamming into its skull with a sickening crunch. The force of the blow sends its body sprawling to the ground, lifeless.

The wolf on the left is faster, but so am I.

I twist the second stream of blood into a whip, its surface glinting with razor-sharp edges. I flick it forward, the weapon snapping through the air with a deadly hiss. The whip coils around the wolf's neck mid-lunge, tightening instantly.

"Let me hear you howl," I say, yanking the whip back with all my strength.

The wolf's body jerks violently as the whip slices through its neck, the head separating cleanly from its shoulders. Blood sprays in an arc as the lifeless body collapses to the ground.

Two remain.

The last pair growls low, their bodies crouched, their eyes flicking between me and their fallen packmates.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," I say, spreading my arms wide. "You wanted this."

One of them charges straight for me, while the other circles behind, its steps careful and deliberate.

"Trying to outflank me?" I say, chuckling darkly. "Cute."

I kneel slightly, pressing my hand to the ground. The blood whip dissolves, and the remaining liquid seeps into the soil, disappearing from sight.

The wolf in front leaps, jaws wide, but I'm already moving. I sidestep smoothly, avoiding its attack as I thrust my palm toward the ground.

"Rise," I command.[inspiration from solo leveling]

The blood hidden beneath the soil erupts upward, forming a jagged crimson spear that impales the wolf mid-air. Its momentum carries it further down the spear, its body thrashing briefly before falling limp.

The final wolf freezes, its growl faltering as it realizes it's alone.

I turn to it slowly, my grin sharp and feral. "You know," I say, taking a step toward it, "you could run. But where's the fun in that?"

The wolf hesitates, its instincts warring with its fear.

I raise my hand, the blood pooling into the shape of a massive axe. Its edge gleams with a dark, viscous sheen.

"Go on," I say, my voice low and taunting. "Give me a reason."

The wolf finally snaps, lunging in desperation. I bring the axe down in a brutal arc, the blade cleaving through its body effortlessly.

As the wolf's lifeless form crumples to the ground, silence falls over the forest once more.

"Hahaha… hahahaha… HAHAHAHA!"

The laugh bursts out of me, wild and unrestrained, echoing through the trees like a mad symphony. My chest heaves as I catch my breath, the rush of the kills still surging through me.

"This," I murmur to myself, my voice low but trembling with excitement, "is power."

I look down at the blood axe in my hand, its gleaming crimson surface still slick with the remains of its last victim. With a flick of my wrist, the weapon dissolves, the solid form collapsing into liquid. The blood falls to the ground in thick droplets, pooling around the lifeless bodies like a second shadow.

But I'm not done.

Not yet.

I walk slowly toward the first wolf I killed, my boots squelching slightly against the blood-soaked ground. Its body lies motionless, its chest cleaved open, exposing the faint shimmer of its remaining mana. I crouch beside it, my fingers brushing against the fur.

Blood magic.

This isn't just a tool or a weapon—it's the culmination of everything I learned in my past life, the art I perfected through countless trials. A magic born not from tradition, but from ambition.

And it's mine.

I extend my hand, my fingers hovering over the wolf's chest. Slowly, the blood within its body begins to stir.

"Come to me," I whisper, my voice soft but commanding.

The crimson liquid responds, swirling upward like a living thing. It moves with a strange, hypnotic grace, forming twisting patterns in the air before pooling into a dense orb above the wolf's body. The sight of it makes my heart race.

Blood is more than just life. It's power.

I hold out my palm, and the orb begins to move toward me. It hovers briefly above my hand before I make a sharp motion, summoning it directly into my body.

The pain comes first—a searing, slicing sensation as I cut open my palm with a thought. The blood orb sinks into the wound, flowing into my veins like molten fire.

My breath hitches, my muscles tensing as the wolf's essence begins to merge with mine.

"Ah…" I exhale, a wicked smile spreading across my face.

Blood magic isn't just about controlling the physical. It's about taking the essence, the very nature, of a creature and making it part of you.

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Here's how it works:

Every drop of blood carries a fragment of its owner's potential. Their strength, their instincts, their skills—it's all encoded within that crimson liquid.

When I absorb blood, I'm not just taking their life. I'm taking their essence, breaking it down and weaving it into my own.

But there's a cost.

To gain specific abilities—like the wolf's heightened sense of smell or its acute hearing—I need more blood. The stronger or rarer the skill, the more blood it requires to transfer it fully into my body.

And there's another layer: compatibility.

I can't just absorb anything. My body has to adjust, to adapt to the new traits. It's like adding a new thread to an already intricate tapestry. The more I absorb, the harder it becomes to integrate the skills without unraveling what's already there.

But that's a problem for another time. Right now, all I care about is this wolf.

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The blood flows into me, and I feel it—sharp, wild, primal.

The wolf's essence surges through my veins, its instincts flickering like sparks in the back of my mind. My senses heighten. The scent of the forest becomes sharper, more distinct. I can pick out individual trails—the faint musk of animals, the earthy tang of wet soil, the subtle metallic hint of mana in the air.

I close my eyes, inhaling deeply.

There.

I can feel it now, a faint but distinct path leading deeper into the forest. The wolf's pack isn't far.

"Perfect," I whisper, opening my eyes.

I stand slowly, flexing my fingers as the cut on my palm seals itself. The power is intoxicating, and I know this is only the beginning.

Blood magic is what made me unstoppable in my prime.

In my past life, I wasn't just a warrior—I was a force of nature. My enemies feared me, not just for my skill but for what I became after every battle. Every kill made me stronger, faster, sharper.

And now, I'm returning to that.

The thought makes me laugh again, softer this time but no less unhinged. "You were strong," I say, glancing down at the wolf's lifeless body. "But now, you're mine. Your strength, your senses—they belong to me."

I turn toward the faint trail, my grin widening.

"Time to find the rest of your little family," I say, my voice low and dripping with greed.

The forest feels different now. Every sound, every movement is amplified, the wolf's heightened senses guiding me like a second instinct. The trees blur into shadows as I move forward, faster and more confident than before.

This is what power feels like.

And I want more.