The mist clung to everything like a shroud, turning the forest road into a narrow tunnel of shadows. I was riding at the front, as I should, leading from the front to remind the men that their leader wasn't some coward. Not that they’d need reminding when we were this close to the capital. Half a day more, and I’d be there, ready to sell what I had. Merno's Information Network—that's where I was headed. I had a guy in there. He’d make sure the deal was clean, that I’d get my reward without any unpleasant surprises.

Count Merno had a reputation. Cruel, yes, but honest. Or as close to honest as men like him got. He paid for good information, especially about rivals. And the Blackwoods? They were more than rivals—they were a remnant of a family that used to stand on par with his. Merno would pay well to hear how deep their troubles ran.

I was lost in thought when I heard the scream. A long, piercing wail from somewhere behind me, where the rest of the caravan trailed. My first instinct was to ignore it—men played tricks on each other all the time on these long journeys. But something in the tone, something primal, had me pulling the reins of my horse, halting. I dismounted, torch in hand, and motioned for two of my guards to follow me as I moved toward the rear.

The mist swallowed everything. Thick. Suffocating. Each step felt like I was wading through some thick, unseen force. The fire from the torch barely cut through it, flickering weakly. It wasn’t unusual for the wagons to space out in conditions like this—too easy to collide when you can’t see more than a few paces ahead. But that scream... no one was playing jokes tonight. My men had been nervous about taking this road in the first place, and I knew why.

The wolves.

The locals had stories. Every year, they’d lose people—entire families gone, taken by those damned beasts. And yet they stayed because of the land. Rich harvests kept them there, willing to risk it. Me? I was risking it because I had no choice. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. I had a choice. I could’ve taken the safer route, but some ignorance noble see otherwise.

What im i suppose to do? say a no to a blackwood?

No, it was better to gamble with a few lives now than risk losing what I stood to gain. A few guards...'small sacrifices for large rewards.'

I pushed forward, the mist growing thicker, almost palpable. “Is everything okay there?” My voice echoed hollowly, swallowed by the forest. Nothing. No response. I glanced at the two guards beside me. They were as tense as I was, gripping their weapons too tightly. I didn’t blame them.

"Check the wagon," I ordered one of them. He hesitated, fear flashing in his eyes, but I motioned him forward. He took a few steps, vanishing into the mist.

Seconds passed.

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'Nothing?'

I strained to hear, holding my breath. The silence was worse than any scream. Then, from the shadows, his voice came, shaking: "No one’s here, boss."

'No one?'

The merchant assigned to that wagon—where had he gone? A piss break? Or maybe... but before I could finish the thought, something huge burst from the mist.

A wolf.

No, not just any wolf—a beast, larger than any I’d seen. It was on my guard before he could react, its jaws locking around his throat, tearing it open in a spray of crimson. The sound—the sickening crunch of bone and the gurgling choke of blood—froze me in place. The torchlight flickered, barely illuminating the scene, but I could see enough. The guard’s body crumpled like a ragdoll as the beast released him, his neck torn open like paper.

The wolf turned its gaze toward me, its eyes glowing in the dim light. Its teeth, wet with fresh blood.

The wolf lunged at me, teeth flashing in the flickering torchlight. Instinct kicked in as I dodged, barely avoiding the beast's sharp fangs. I could feel the rush of air as its jaws snapped shut, inches from where my arm had been. It recoiled, ready to pounce again, but before it could, my other guard charged in, sword gleaming as it slashed across the wolf’s neck. The beast dropped instantly, blood pooling around it as the guard stood over it, panting heavily.

I felt a momentary surge of relief—too brief to matter. My breath barely had time to settle before movement caught my eye again. From the left, three more wolves emerged from the mist, their eyes glowing with that same terrible hunger. Their sleek, dark forms barely disturbed the fog as they approached.

They never moved in large packs like this. Not unless—

"IT’S A BEAST RAID! GET YOUR SWORDS!"

I screamed with pure fear.

Chaos erupted.

This was bad. No, this was worse than bad. A beast raid meant not just one pack, but several, attacking all at once, coordinated.

"Boss, please, follow me! It's not safe here," my guard urged, his voice barely concealing the terror beneath it. I didn't need to be told twice. Without hesitation, I sprinted alongside him, my heart pounding in my chest as the sounds of chaos erupted behind us. The howls of the wolves mixed with the gut-wrenching screams of my men. I heard the sickening crunch of teeth meeting flesh, the desperate cries for help.

The mist thickened as we raced back to the caravan, its tendrils curling around us like ghostly hands. I could feel the hot breath of death just behind me, snapping at my heels. My breath was ragged by the time we reached my wagon, but I allowed myself a brief moment to calm down.

I looked at the guard posted outside, who seemed only slightly less shaken than I was. "Boss, should we move?" he asked, glancing nervously in the direction of the distant screams and growls.

My first instinct was to say yes. To use the chaos as a cover and get out of here while the wolves were distracted. After all, I never hesitated to save my own skin before, and tonight should be no different. But this situation wasn't so simple.

"Let’s wait," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

The guard blinked, clearly surprised. We were vastly outnumbered, and there was no denying that a beast raid was a death sentence for any ordinary caravan. But we had something most other merchants didn’t.

We had a novice. And not just any novice— a Blackwood. No matter his true identity, a novice of his caliber had to be capable of handling this situation. Surely, he could cut through a raid like this with ease, even if it was larger than usual.

The odds were in our favor. At least 70%-80%.

I bit down hard, trying to convince myself that my decision was sound. "Go and inform the men to assist Lord Highcliff. They are to follow his orders," I commanded, knowing full well that relying on an imposter wasn’t ideal. But he had power. And I wasn’t in the position of turning down power when my life was on the line.

"But boss—" the guard began, doubt creeping into his voice.

I cut him off sharply, "I’ll be fine in the wagon. Just get back quickly and make sure the men are doing what they're told."

The guard hesitated, then nodded and ran off into the mist, shouting orders. I watched him go, listening to the renewed howls of the wolves and the clash of weapons. The screams were growing fainter now, or maybe it was just the mist swallowing them up. Either way, I stayed inside the wagon, clutching my sword, knowing my chances were still decent.

That is, unless a mutant beast showed up. Then all bets were off.

But surely, my luck wasn't that bad… right?