**Chapter 8: Wolves at the Gate**

The morning sun bathed the farm in a warm, golden light, casting long shadows across the fields. The scent of dew still lingered in the air as Alexander and Amara went about their daily tasks. The farm had become a place of routine and peace, a stark contrast to the chaos that still lingered in Alexander’s fragmented memories.

“Think you can lift that bucket by yourself today?” Alexander teased, eyeing the half-filled water bucket Amara was struggling to carry.

Amara’s face scrunched in concentration as she tugged on the heavy bucket. “Of course! I’m stronger than I look!”

Alexander chuckled, kneeling down to help. “You’ve got the spirit, but sometimes you need a little help from your friends.”

With a subtle pulse of mana, he lightened the weight of the bucket using his **Gravity Magic**. Amara suddenly found herself lifting it with ease, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Whoa! Did I get super strong, or are you messing with me again?” she asked, her voice caught between awe and suspicion.

“Maybe a bit of both,” Alexander grinned, standing up and brushing off his hands.

As they worked, their playful banter filled the air, and it wasn’t long before Amara was daring Alexander to use his magic to make her jump higher. She dashed over to the pigpen and hopped onto a low fence, her hands gripping the top rail as she beamed at him.

“Can you make me fly over the pigs?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Alexander hesitated, glancing over at Lyra, who stood a short distance away, watching them with her usual cool detachment. But even from here, he could see the faint smile tugging at her lips. Over the weeks, she had begun to view him not just as a stranger, but as something closer to family. Though she rarely showed it, Alexander could feel her softening.

“Alright,” he said finally, focusing his magic as Amara bounced on her toes in anticipation.

With a flick of his wrist, he lightened the pull of gravity around her. Amara laughed in delight as she leaped into the air, soaring over the pigs. She landed gracefully on the other side, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

“Again, again!” she begged, running back to him.

Lyra’s eyes followed them, her expression unreadable but her heart stirred by the sight of her daughter’s joy. In moments like these, Alexander seemed less like the haunted, battle-worn man who had stumbled onto their farm and more like the son she never had.

But just as the peaceful atmosphere settled over the farm, Alexander’s instincts flared. Something was wrong.

The air around him shifted—subtle, almost imperceptible—but Alexander had been honing his **Gravity Detection** for days now, and he could feel the disturbance. It was like a ripple in the invisible currents of the world, a warning carried by the natural forces around them.

He stopped mid-laugh, his senses sharpening as he turned his head toward the forest that bordered the farm. The trees swayed slightly in the breeze, but there was something unnatural about it—a presence.

Amara noticed the change in his demeanor, and her smile faded. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice tinged with worry.

Alexander didn’t answer immediately. His hand drifted toward the wooden practice sword leaning against the fence. His eyes narrowed, scanning the treeline.

Lyra, ever vigilant, picked up on his tension. Her face hardened as she followed his gaze. The air grew thick with anticipation, and Alexander’s grip tightened on the hilt of his sword.

A low, haunting howl broke the silence, sending a shiver down his spine. Amara’s eyes widened in fear, and she instinctively moved closer to Alexander.

“Wolves,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

The howling grew louder and closer, and Alexander’s heart pounded in his chest. The wolves weren’t just hunting—they were coming for them.

Without hesitation, he turned to Amara. “You need to get somewhere safe.”

“But—”

“No arguments,” Alexander cut her off, his voice firm but gentle. He reached out, his mana flowing as he gathered the gravity around her. Gently, he lifted Amara off the ground and floated her up onto the roof of the barn.

Amara clutched the wooden beams, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Stay up there until it’s safe,” Alexander instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Just as he finished, Lyra emerged from the house, her expression grim. She was carrying a long weapon in her hands—a glaive with a sleek, deadly blade that gleamed in the sunlight. The wooden shaft was reinforced with dark metal, and the blade itself was intricately engraved with swirling patterns that hinted at both artistry and lethality.

Alexander blinked in surprise. He hadn’t realized Lyra was so well-armed.

She tossed him a small box, her face hard as steel. “Open it,” she commanded.

Alexander caught the box and, with a flick of his thumb, unlocked the lid. Inside was a weapon that made his breath catch—a dark metal greatsword. Its hilt was wrapped in worn leather, and the blade itself gleamed ominously in the light. It was the same weapon he had seen in his nightmares—the one that had haunted his fragmented memories.

Before he could speak, a blood-chilling howl erupted from the tree line, followed by the pounding of paws on the earth.

The wolves had arrived.

Emerging from the shadows of the trees, a pack of dire wolves—larger and more fearsome than any normal wolf—charged toward them. The largest of the wolves stood nearly as tall as Alexander, their eyes glowing with a predatory hunger. Two dozen of them, fur matted and eyes filled with bloodlust, barreled toward the farm, eager to get to the pigs—and the people standing between them and their meal.

Lyra’s grip tightened on her glaive. “We have to stop them before they get inside the pen.”

Alexander nodded, gripping the greatsword in his hand. It felt strangely familiar, like an extension of his own body.

The wolves wasted no time. They surged forward, their snarling jaws snapping as they closed the distance. Alexander took a deep breath, centering himself as he called upon the training he had worked so hard to master.

His **Gravitonic Swordsmanship** came to life.

The air around him shimmered as he used his gravity magic to lighten the weight of the greatsword, making it easier to wield despite its massive size. He moved swiftly, faster than the wolves anticipated, slashing through the air with deadly precision.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

The first wolf leaped at him, fangs bared. Alexander swung his sword upward, and with a surge of mana, he increased the wolf’s weight just before impact, slamming it into the ground with a bone-crushing thud.

The system message flashed in his mind:

**Gravitonic Swordsmanship (Tier 1)**

Skill: 12% Mastery

Description: A sword style that uses gravity manipulation to enhance both offense and defense. The user can alter the weight and force of their strikes, using gravity to control the flow of battle.

Lyra was by his side in an instant, her glaive spinning in a deadly arc as she sliced through the wolves with expert precision. Her weapon was an extension of her body, each movement fluid and calculated. The serrated edge of her glaive tore through the thick hide of the wolves, leaving deep, fatal wounds.

But the wolves were relentless. More of them surged forward, their sheer numbers overwhelming.

Alexander grunted as one wolf managed to sink its teeth into his arm. He grimaced, swinging his sword and forcing the beast to let go. Blood poured down his arm from the puncture wounds, but something deep within him held in the cry of pain and he didn’t falter.

Lyra, too, was bleeding from a gash on her leg, but she fought with a fury that reminded Alexander of the warrior her husband must have been.

Despite the pain, Alexander pushed on. He gathered his mana, feeling the gravitational pull around him, sensing the weight of each wolf, the way their bodies moved through space. He could feel the mass of everything around him, and he began to manipulate it.

With a shout, he swung his sword, this time pulling on the gravity around the wolves. The pack leader, a massive beast with scars covering its body, suddenly stumbled as its weight increased. Its legs buckled, and Alexander seized the opportunity, delivering a fatal blow.

The battle raged on, but slowly, they began to turn the tide. The wolves, confused by the sudden shifts in gravity, became slower, their movements erratic. Lyra and Alexander worked together seamlessly, felling one wolf after another.

Finally, after what felt like hours but was only minutes, the last of the wolves lay dead at their feet. Both Alexander and Lyra were breathing heavily, their bodies bruised and bloodied, but they had survived.

Amara, still perched on top of the barn, let out a cheer. “You did it!”

Alexander looked up at her and smiled, his chest heaving with exhaustion. “Yeah,” he muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow. “We did.”

---

**Gravity Detection (Tier 1)**

Skill: 24% Mastery

Description: The ability to sense gravitational fields and disturbances. The user can detect the presence of living beings and objects by their gravitational pull.

---

With the battle won, they set to work. Lyra, ever practical, began skinning the wolves for their pelts, which they would sell at the market. Alexander helped, though his movements were slower due to the injuries he had sustained.

By the time they were finished, the sun had dipped low in the sky

By the time they finished skinning the wolves and storing the pelts, the sky had begun to turn a deep orange, the sun dipping low on the horizon. Exhausted but satisfied, Alexander leaned on his greatsword, his chest still heaving from the adrenaline of the fight. His arms ached, and blood from the wound on his arm had dried in streaks down his skin. Despite the pain, he couldn’t help but feel proud—not just of himself, but of how well he and Lyra had fought together.

He turned toward her, still catching his breath. “Thank you for the sword, Lyra. I... I didn’t even know you had it.”

Lyra, who was inspecting her injuries with a critical eye, glanced up at him. She wiped a bit of dirt from her face and gave him a rare, soft smile. “You fought well, Alexander. You’ve earned that sword.”

Alexander’s gaze fell to the weapon in his hand. It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship—heavy, but perfectly balanced, as if it had been made just for him. It gleamed in the fading sunlight, the dark metal absorbing the light like a shadow, yet there was a comforting familiarity in its weight.

“I don’t know what to say. This is... exactly like the one from my dreams,” he said, still in awe as he ran his hand down the length of the blade. “How did you—?”

Lyra sheathed her glaive in one fluid motion, wiping her hands on her apron as she approached him. “You told me about the sword shortly after you arrived. The nightmares you spoke of... the one weapon you kept mentioning. I figured it was a sign. I asked a blacksmith in town to make it, using your description.”

Alexander stared at her, his brow furrowing. “You had it made? That quickly?”

“I knew you’d need a real weapon eventually. A wooden practice sword wouldn’t be enough forever,” Lyra said simply, her tone as pragmatic as ever. “I didn’t expect you to face wolves today, but I had a feeling something was coming. It’s always better to be prepared.”

The truth of her words settled in Alexander’s mind, and he felt a deep sense of gratitude welling up inside him. “Thank you,” he said again, his voice more earnest. “I don’t know if I could’ve fought off those wolves with just the practice sword.”

Lyra’s gaze softened, just for a moment. “You’re welcome. But remember, Alexander, the weapon doesn’t make the warrior. You fought well because of your training and instincts. The sword is just an extension of that.”

He nodded, her words sinking deep into him. The weight of the greatsword felt different now, not just a tool, but a symbol of his growing strength and skill.

“Come on, let’s get inside,” Lyra said, rolling her shoulders as she walked toward the farmhouse. “We’ll clean up and have dinner. You’ll need your strength back after that fight.”

---

Dinner was a simple affair: roasted pork, potatoes, and freshly baked bread. The farmhouse kitchen was warm, the hearth crackling softly as the evening shadows grew long outside. Lyra sat at the head of the table, while Alexander took his usual place across from Amara, who was still buzzing with excitement from the day’s events.

Amara, her plate piled high with food, could hardly contain herself. “And then Alexander *whoosh*—” she mimed a great sword swing with her fork—“he sent that wolf flying! It was like... like magic! And then Mama was so fast, *swish swish*, cutting them down with her glaive! I was so scared, but I knew you’d beat them!”

Alexander chuckled between bites of bread, shaking his head at Amara’s enthusiastic retelling. “I don’t know if it was quite that dramatic.”

“Oh, yes it was!” Amara insisted, her eyes wide. “I was right up there on the barn watching everything! You both were so brave.”

Lyra glanced at Alexander, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “She’s not wrong, you know. You handled yourself well today.”

Alexander looked down at his plate, feeling a mixture of pride and humility. “I had a good teacher,” he said, glancing back at Lyra. “The training you’ve been giving me—it’s starting to make sense. The Gravitonic Sword Style, the way you fight... I’m learning to make it my own.”

Lyra gave a slight nod, clearly pleased with his progress. “You’ve come a long way since the day I found you half-dead in the field. But there’s still more to learn. The Gravitonic Sword Style is about more than just swinging a sword and using gravity to your advantage. It’s about controlling the battlefield, understanding your opponent’s movements, and using their weight against them. You’re getting there, but you still have room to grow.”

Amara, not one to be left out of the conversation, piped up again. “And you even saved me! You made me fly, just like you did with the wolves!”

Alexander laughed softly. “That was more about keeping you out of harm’s way than flying, but I’m glad it worked.”

Lyra’s expression softened as she looked at her daughter, her voice carrying a trace of warmth. “You were very brave today, Amara. But next time, stay inside the house until it’s over. Wolves are dangerous, even for grown warriors like Alexander.”

Amara pouted but nodded. “I know... but it was still exciting!”

Alexander smiled as the little girl continued to recount every detail of the battle, her fork waving in the air as she mimicked their moves with exaggerated flair. It was a lighthearted contrast to the tense reality of the day, and he found himself feeling a deep sense of contentment. Despite the wounds, despite the danger, there was something profoundly fulfilling about protecting this place—protecting them.

After a while, Amara’s excitement began to fade, and her energy finally ebbed away. Lyra noticed and stood, clearing her plate. “It’s time for you to get ready for bed, Amara.”

Amara groaned but obeyed, heading upstairs with one last dramatic retelling of how Alexander had saved the day.

As the room quieted, Alexander sat back in his chair, letting out a deep breath. “She’s something else.”

Lyra smiled faintly, sitting back down. “She’s spirited. Takes after her father in that way.”

Alexander nodded, feeling a pang of something—grief, maybe, or longing—for the family that had been lost before he came here. He didn’t know what his own past held, but seeing Lyra and Amara together made him wonder if he had ever had something like this. A family. Someone to protect.

Lyra noticed his silence and gave him a curious look. “What’s on your mind?”

Alexander hesitated before answering, his voice low. “Just thinking about how much this place has come to mean to me. I know I haven’t been here long, but... it feels like home.”

Lyra’s eyes softened, and for a moment, she looked as if she was going to say something more, but instead, she simply nodded. “You’ve earned your place here, Alexander. Amara adores you, and you’ve proven yourself time and time again. My husband would’ve been grateful for your help.”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning. Alexander didn’t press further. Instead, he let the warmth of the moment settle in as they continued their quiet conversation.

Outside, the moon began to rise, casting a pale glow over the farm. Inside, the fire crackled softly, the remnants of dinner cleared away as Lyra and Alexander sat in companionable silence. There was still so much to learn, so much to face, but for now, they had this—a brief moment of peace after the storm.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Alexander felt like he was exactly where he needed to be.