Fenrir stalked through the forest like a wraith. His hood still obscured his features, but eventually he pulled it down off his head. The suns were setting and the moons were rising, but the day was still bright enough to see clearly, even if he weren't half Fae.

The boy had told the guard captain, who introduced himself as Rokvur, that he was going hunting. The man had seemed worried about his lack of weapons and still seemed slightly concerned when the boy had pulled a sling from the folds of his cloak. After all, even if Fae were rulers of the forest, a rabid or starving animal would still attack them. And though Fae races tended to age slowly, the boy still could not be more than fourteen; for fairies, elves, and all other descendants of the Fae, the body aged at a normal pace until around sixteen years old, at which point it slowed almost to a halt.

And so, Rokvur rightly judged Fenrir's age. However, he greatly underestimated the boy's abilities; after all, the man had no clue how fierce and bloody the competition for the position of Demon King was, nor did he know that Fenrir was actually a demon and a participant, let alone the winner. The boy was quite touched, though, as it had been a long time since someone had worried for him, ever since he had killed his parents. Even his four generals were not concerned for him; they held absolute confidence in their king. If their king believed that there was even the slightest chance of survival, they would be completely certain that he could obtain said chance; and if he was certain of his death, like when he left to fight a god, then they would be absolutely sure that he would die, and grieve for him. They never felt the nagging uncertainty that was classified as worry. After convincing the man that he was perfectly capable of surviving, Fenrir had departed from the campsite. He felt it odd that the nobles within the carriage had not yet disembarked, but his previous arrogance meant that he was currently clueless about society, so it may have simply been due to a custom that he was unaware of.

Upon leaving the camp, Fenrir proceeded with purpose and direction. He soon came upon his destination: a bandit camp located a few miles away, which he had deemed a threat. And threats were to be eliminated.

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While the boy could have simply walked openly into the camp and began a slaughter, he felt that it would increase the minuscule risk of escapees if he did so, while using subterfuge would not increase the required effort by much. It was much more efficient to begin by killing most of the bandits stealthily, then wiping out the rest in one fell swoop. Of course, he could use magic and wipe them all out at once, but his Fae instincts demanded a hunt.

The bandits seemed to be rather professional, likely a former mercenary group. Several small tents surrounded a larger one, with sentries patrolling the perimeter. In total, the bandits likely numbered around fifty, which would have been a serious threat to the twenty guards of the caravan.

Fenrir quickly slew the sentries, disposing of their bodies. Then, he proceeded to eliminate the inhabitants of the smaller tents. None of them were able to put up anything close to a good fight, even though he did not use magic.

Approaching the larger tent, Fenrir suddenly stiffened.

Souls did not tell the exact personality of a being. A newborn would have a bright soul, which would darken as their nature began to be corrupted by desires and "evil". Upon death, the soul would be sent to a level of Hell to be cleansed of the darkness, and then enter the cycle of reincarnation as a pure, bright being. However, sometimes beings would remain "good" people even after being faced with the problems of the world. As long as the true nature of a person was "good", then their soul would remain bright. Though uncommon, it was not exceedingly rare for a person with a seemingly terrible surface personality to actually have a bright soul; the soul showed the unconscious mind's condition, not that of the conscious mind.

Out of the bandits that Fenrir had killed, a few still held bright souls, likely having been forced into their banditry. However, now he saw a sight that he had thought impossible: a soul that was encased in a shell of darkness, but shone brightly from within. Up until now, he had only seen souls with uniform colors, mostly varying shades of grey.[1] Even with his inherited knowledge as a god, the boy had never seen anything like what was before him at that moment.