Tanya was stunned. The information she'd gotten during the lecture had been startling. She had no meridians. That meant she was likely incapable of interacting with the power system in this world. Her dreams of hanging up Being X's head like a chamber pot were scratched right then and there.

While Midea had claimed that her path wasn't gone, from his tone, Tanya could tell he wasn't even confident in his own assertions. That being said, she had some theories about why she lacked meridians. If meridians were so intimately connected to the soul, perhaps it was the fact that her soul had been absorbed by this body that had destroyed them. She was working purely off speculation, but she clearly remembered resisting vehemently when she was being absorbed. It was the only way she managed to keep her consciousness intact.

If there had been a clash of souls, there was a very real possibility it had damaged the soul of this body. Perhaps the instincts that were so strong in this form were the latent mind of the infant she had inhabited? But it didn't seem that way to her. She was certain they were more than base instincts but not a fully mind formed in itself. She still didn't understand why this body was able to absorb numen—the spiritual energy of this world—so easily, or why it felt so comfortable, but perhaps this soul was a broken vessel. Able to absorb energy but unable to wield it.

Whatever the case, it was bad news.

She carried the paper as she walked toward her home, her mind still racing with possibilities. The wards she had studied earlier were interesting, at least. She noticed others had struggled to draw them. They were markedly complex and even seemed to tire some of the wolf-men out just from writing a few. But she herself felt little to no real mental exertion. According to Midea, these wards were imbued with the Dao, the concepts of this world that led to different paths of power. They took a strong mind to even draw because inscribing such shapes was like imparting a piece of your soul into them. The act literally exhausted the soul itself, like a muscle being strained. Some had innately stronger souls, according to the man, which led to inherently greater talent in the art of drawing wards.

If there was one thing Tanya did not doubt, it was the strength of her soul.

If she couldn't cultivate beyond this body's inherent absorption of energy, then she would become a legendary ward master. It was always better to focus on one's strengths rather than lament one's weaknesses. She shook her head and turned her thoughts to her guardian, mostly due to the fact that he had been called away by the chieftain of the village, Remus.

Tanya had observed that Midea held a high position in this village—or at least, he was an important guest. After all, the chieftain even showed him a certain measure of respect. And he had knowledge that far exceeded anything the village had, and it was obviously clear he wasn't a wolf-man like the others. He wasn't from this race. More intriguingly, he was connected to her and had spoken of other universes and realms. It wasn't difficult for Tanya to deduce that he was from another place far from the village. In fact, she found that the least likely possibility. She found it much more plausible that he was from another world or universe entirely. She herself was aware of the greater multiverse due to her experiences with Being X, but it seemed the people of this world in general were not. Unless, of course, this village was a complete backwater in this world, which very well may have been the case.

She could see it in his eyes. He tried to be subtle about it, but he couldn't help himself. There was always an air of subtle disdain when he walked among the villagers, as if they were beneath him. Tanya was well-experienced with people of his type. He was capable, yes, but he was also a brat. Someone used to novelties and riches. Someone whose actions and capabilities had been positively reinforced his whole life, which had accumulated into an air of palpable pride about his form.

She could definitely see it in his speech patterns. Something, something Scelus , something, something noble house Valefor . The man was a noble through and through. Albeit a strong one.

She looked up at the sky. The lesson had been rather long, and the moons were now high, hanging in the dark sky like silent sentinels. There were three of them, full and almost unnaturally large.

I wonder if these wolf- men have werewolf forms, she mused inwardly.

Honestly, she had no idea how this planet even functioned. Having three moons was plausible, but having several suns? That was not. According to her understanding of physics—which admittedly wasn't much, as astrophysics had been far from her major—planets had to be in a sort of Goldilocks zone to support organic life. It couldn't be too hot nor too cold, and gravity had to meet certain conditions. In a three-body system alone, the planet would need to orbit one of the stars while the other stars orbited the primary star in the system. This meant that the other stars would also directly affect the planetoid in question. The sheer gravitational fluctuations and changing heat zones would make organic, or at least carbon- based, life exceedingly unlikely to evolve on the given planet.

Yet this planet had several suns, with different colors: green, purple, aside from the more traditional red, blue, and yellow ones that she was used to. While she was aware that atmospheric conditions could affect how a star's color was perceived, that didn't seem to be the case here. Then again, this world was literally magical. It ran off principles that didn't follow the same fundamental laws of science that she had learned about in university.

She wasn't too hung up about it, though. As long as the environment was habitable and she didn't die because the planet entered a random gravitational shift, she could deal with it. If she died again, that would be it for real. There would be no Being X to take her from the void this time. She would simply waste away and cease to exist. No legacy of what she had been would remain.

Tanya had no intention of dying. None at all.

She had decided to be greedy. Revenge, power , happiness, wealth, immortality—she wanted it all, and she would find a way to get it. The world had given her shit hands again and again, but she had not bowed down to a self-proclaimed god. Why the hell would she bow down to the circumstances of this world?

If immortality was possible, she would find a way to attain it. No matter what she had to do.

Plus, there's a faint possibility that this is natural.

The other egg was likely—no, definitely—of the same species as herself. She could still cling to the hope that this was natural for their species. She latched onto this possibility because of Midea. Despite his air of superiority, when it came to her, he was hyper-aware. He had gone so far as to correct his mistake after drawing unnecessary attention to her, just because she had shot him a dirty look. She actually found it a bit funny how he seemed to squirm at times.

Despite his strength, the man hesitated to lay a hand on her. And when he had spoken to the chieftain, he had referred to her to the village as a "mythical beast." He feared her, but not because of her strength alone as she was confident he was stronger. No, rather he feared her because of her lineage, something Midea knew more about than he was letting on. It tracked with her current physical abilities—those of the first layer when coating themselves with numen are far more durable than the average creature. But she had run through one like papier-mâché and was uninjured. This was unnatural, while the beings in this world were strong, they were strong due to numen. Their physical bodies when not being enhanced by the supernatural energy were normal, albeit stronger than a being with no cultivation at all. What she had done was impossible for any child of this village. Given all of the following, there was definitely something more to this new race of hers that would allow her to reach the places she wished to reach. But time would tell, she would have to speak with Midea soon.

"Surya!"

Tanya's musings were interrupted by the shout. She saw Hati running toward her, waving her hands frantically, trying to catch her attention. The woman was rather touchy, but Tanya tolerated her because of her current situation—and because she always seemed to have something useful when she came to speak with her.

Hati reached for a flask and handed it to Tanya with a wide grin. It was filled with rannhorn milk. Despite herself, Tanya couldn't help but feel a bit excited . She was utterly beguiled by the drink. Her body seemed to crave it with an intensity that bordered on addiction. She had even wondered if it was drugged, but considering Midea's meticulous nature, she doubted he would have allowed that.

Besides, Hati lacked the subtlety for such a scheme.

"Hehe, I know it's late, but think of this as a midnight snack! Once you're able to talk, you can teach big sis here how to do that wardy thing the goat man did." Hati hugged Tanya close, pressing her cheek against hers. The woman lacked any concept of personal space.

"That being said," Hati continued, her voice slightly muffled by Tanya's hair, "he went too hard on Garran. I'm sure it was just experience. If Garran was at the second layer and had a technique like that, he would have made goat stew with the Satyr!"

She rambled on about Garran's feats, emphasizing how impressive he was and how he could have won.

Weren't you cheering against him? Tanya thought, sighing inwardly. You living, breathing archetype.

Tanya sighed again, but audibly this time, her patience already thinning. Hati was clearly a chatterbox, bouncing from topic to topic with seemingly no internal filter,and Tanya just wasn't in the mood to deal with it right now.

"Hmmm, oh, sorry, Surya. You must be tired. It was a really long day for you, huh?" Hati looked down at her with those burnt orange eyes that glinted under the light of the moons. Her red hair seemed to shimmer as she tilted her head, a mixture of concern and motherly affection crossing her face.

"Want me to rock you to bed and sing you a lullaby? No, I definitely will." At that moment, the woman's expression turned downright evil in Tanya's eyes.

Oh hell no.

Tanya quickly widened her eyes, pointing dramatically behind Hati as if something alarming was there. It was the oldest trick in the book, but effective nonetheless.

"Huh? What is it?" Hati whipped her head around in worry.

The instant her back was turned, Tanya bolted. Full speed. Her bare feet literally cracked the earth beneath her with each step as she shot off like a bullet, small clouds of dust trailing in her wake. She heard Hati sputtering behind her, coughing on the dirt she'd inadvertently kicked up, as she literally forced Hati to eat dirt. Something she felt moderately sorry for but was definitely more humorous than anything.

"Pfft— ahem, Surya!—cough—where are you going?" Hati's voice echoed behind her, but Tanya wasn't stopping.

There was no way in hell she was letting herself get sung to bed like some infant. Despite the reality of her age.

She didn't run home right away, though. No, Hati would probably try to stake her out there first, so that was out of the question. Besides, she'd already checked on the egg earlier today, so it should be fine. For now, she wanted some peace and quiet away from the walking ball of chaotic energy that was Hati.

The village was serene at night. The triple moons bathed everything in soft, silvery light, illuminating the blue-green wood of the houses and casting gentle shadows on the dirt roads. The towering trees beyond the village walls had strange spiral branches, and when silhouetted against the moons, they looked like something out of a painting. Swirling golden lights danced in the distance, probably some form of wildlife, and the sounds of the night created an almost harmonious backdrop.

It was peaceful. Alive.

Tanya's instincts thrummed with satisfaction. Her body was still passively absorbing the ambient streams of energy, numen flowing into her almost effortlessly. The village itself felt vibrant, and the quiet of the night soothed her usually tense mind.

As she passed a more rural area with fewer houses and more fields, something unexpected happened.

A hand shot out from an alleyway, attempting to drag her into the darkness.

Instincts kicked in immediately. Tanya didn't panic. She resisted the pull with ease, yanking her arm the opposite way, and the next thing she knew, a body went flying .

Tanya blinked, looking up at the figure she'd just thrown into the air like they weighed nothing. She was still shocked by her physical strength, even now. The person she'd thrown was a young girl with silver hair, about Tanya's height , which meant she was likely around nine or ten years old. She had, in fact, grown a fair few centimeters since her birth a few days ago. Hati said it was due to the rannhorn milk, but she was sure that it was due to her energy absorption. Great, another kid.

"AAAHHHHHH!!!" the girl screamed as she flew through the air, clearly caught off guard.

Tanya moved fast, her wings flapping to propel herself upwards. She caught the girl around the waist and carried her like a sack of potatoes back to the ground before letting her go.

The girl blinked up at Tanya, wide-eyed. "Whoa! You're not my sister. But that was fun! Let's do it again!" She seemed unfazed, which honestly annoyed Tanya even more. This girl had just tried to kidnap her and was now asking to be thrown around like a toy.

Typical.

"Well, she's a kid, I guess," Tanya mused. But she needed to figure out why the girl had done it. Considering Midea already knew she could understand language and she had a reputation as a mythical beast, maybe she could speak without it drawing too much attention—plus, it wasn't like this one random kid could do much damage if she blabbed. Tanya figured she could bribe the girl with promises of fun to keep quiet about her ability to talk.

"Your sister?" Tanya asked, feigning faint curiosity.

"Oops! I wasn't supposed to say that!" The girl smacked a hand to her forehead in mock panic before continuing, her voice filled with excitement. "Wait, what are you? No, wait, I know! You're that sun angel who killed a vampyr when you were born, right? Have you come to bless me? Or choose me to be a knight of the sun? Or maybe you're here to eat me! Oh, oh! How are you so strong already? Have you cultivated? Do blessed ones need to cultivate?"

The questions came flying out of her mouth rapid-fire, like a machine gun, and Tanya could barely keep up with what the kid was saying. But she could deduce a few things. The girl was supposed to meet her sister here for some reason but had grabbed her instead. What she found strange was that she had never seen the girl before. It was strange solely considering the fact that she remembered all the children from the school Hati had dragged her to, looking out at her in wonder. She thought back, going over her memories, which were clear and distinct as a photo and went over every face she had seen until now. This girl's did not register, but she did remember a girl who bore some similarities to her in facial structure but was possessed of golden hair instead. While there was a possibility she missed some kids for various reasons, she found it unlikely. All the kids seemed to be funneled into the schools. The village wasn't exceedingly large, so it's not as if there were a lot of them. That one school pretty comfortably held all the younger kids in Wolvenblade.

"Who are you?" Tanya sighed, the faint curiosity in her tone now very real. This kid was a chaotic bundle of energy, and Tanya already felt mentally exhausted from just standing near her.

"Oh, me? I'm Luna! And you're Surya, right ?" she answered, her voice high-pitched and excited.

Tanya just nodded. She had no idea why this child was so eager, but she played along for now. The girl went on, barely taking a breath.

"Sorry for rambling. Sol always tells me not to do that."

"The sister you mentioned earlier?"

"Yeah! Sol's the serious one and the strong one, and I'm just me. But it must be so cool to be so strong, even though you're so young!" The girl sounded cheerful, but Tanya detected a faint undercurrent of melancholy behind her words.

"You were waiting for her?" Tanya asked, her curiosity genuinely piqued now.

Luna looked surprised, as if she hadn' t expected Tanya to pick up on that detail. After a moment of hesitation, she nodded.

"Hey… can you keep a secret?" Luna asked, lowering her voice.

Tanya simply nodded, already expecting something absurd.

"Our moms don't want us to ever really meet or talk to each other. So, Sol sometimes sneaks out at night to see me. I mixed her up with you because your hair color is so similar. Sorry!" Luna clasped her hands together in a pleading gesture, her eyes wide with sincerity.

Their moms didn't want them to meet? So they had different mothers and the same father then. Perhaps he cheated on one for the other, which led to the split in families? Marriage was a thing in this village, but due to its Patriarchal structure, divorce really wasn't. She had listened to a few of the village women and pieced together how the relationship between men and women worked here. A man could have multiple women, or he could leave a woman, and she'd get nothing at all. That being said, it was the men who were on the front lines fighting and dying to defend the village, but that was not a necessity given this world had cultivation. Just as she was the greatest warrior in the empire due to magic. Women tended to do more domestic duties. There was the exception of the few disciples of Baya, who had unique healing arts, and they were all women. Baya was the head priestess of Wolvenblade who somewhat worshiped the seven suns. Fenrir being their Jesus, in a way.

It was a sad situation for Luna, but one that wasn't uncommon in this kind of society.

"It's fine, is your sister coming tonight?" She looked around.

"Well, I don't know. We don't ever really get a chance to plan it. She comes when she comes. I just wait outside of here for a few hours before I head back inside. My ma never notices because she's sickly and sleeps like a log, but it's a lot harder for Sol to sneak out."

Ah, so the man had left this girl's mother for the sister's mother then? A shame for the girl. She herself had a special position in the village, so she didn't know how the misogyny would affect her in the future. If it came down to it, she would have to do something about it, but for now, it was irrelevant.

"Can you also keep a secret, then?" Tanya asked, putting a finger to her lips.

Luna straightened up and put her hand to her head in a mock salute. "Yes, of course I can!"

"Don't tell anyone I can talk—at least not for a few days." Tanya's voice was serious, but Luna seemed more excited than anything. She blinked, thought for a second, and then as if realizing something, immediately put on a dramatic show of stroking an imaginary beard, as if pondering the request deeply.

"Hmmm. Yes, I can keep that secret. But you'll have to do something for me." The girl grinned mischievously.

Tanya sighed. Of course, there's a catch.

The next few hours were spent with Tanya throwing the girl into the air and catching her repeatedly as Luna squealed in delight. By the end, Luna was visibly sweating but still grinning ear to ear.

"Okay! Deal's a deal. I'll see you tomorrow, Surya! Don't forget— you have to come here from now on!" Luna waved as she ran off.

Tanya waved back half-heartedly. It was a small price to pay, honestly. Plus, she was still curious about Luna's situation. Why couldn't they meet during the day when they were at school? Something didn't quite add up.

I'll figure it out later.

For now, she was satisfied. By now, Hati would have given up waiting for her. It was time to check on the egg and rest for the next day. She would start speaking in bits and pieces tomorrow and start fully speaking over the next few days. She had to check on the egg too.

As she headed back, the night was quiet, but Tanya's mind buzzed with plans and theories.

____________________________

Midea extinguished his shadow once he was sure Surya had safely made it home. He couldn't help but feel both amused and disturbed by the situation she'd placed herself in. That little monster had asked the young girl, Luna, to keep her speaking ability a secret for a few days. The little monster had asked the young girl, Luna, to keep her speaking ability a secret for a few days. implications were clear—Surya intended to gather more information while everyone still believed she was mute, likely planning to manipulate how fast she let people think she'd learned to speak. It was a terrifyingly cunning strategy for someone so young. The fact that she had the self-awareness to realize how quickly she was learning and that it wasn't normal for a child, made her all the more frightening.

Midea knew she could understand language, but until now, he hadn't known she could talk.

"The offspring of Lervea, indeed," he muttered, his body giving an involuntary shiver at the mere thought of the woman. Despite his immense pride, Lervea was one of the few who could make him feel something akin to fear. If his elders from House Valefor were here, they would undoubtedly admit the same. According to his knowledge, Lervea had laid both eggs—Surya's and the other—at roughly the same time. That meant if Surya had hatched, the other one might not be far behind. Two monsters. He pinched himself, forcing his composure back before clasping his hands together for a prayer, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Lord Satan, in moments of difficulty and uncertainty, I call upon your dark and profane intervention. Let your corrupting influence seep into my life and bend fortune to my favor. Amplify the challenges of my enemies a hundredfold, bringing chaos and ruin to their every step. Grant me opportunities for victory and the strength to crush the bloodlines of those who dare oppose me. May I rise victorious as their legacies fall into oblivion, for your will is my weapon, and your power my shield . Nema."

If had the time he would have done a few blood sacrifices too. He exhaled, feeling a slight, hollow satisfaction. Of course, Satan wouldn't actually answer him. It was a long-standing superstition among his people that if you were devout enough, Satan might help you out in a pinch. The ritual was more habit than belief, ingrained into every demon from birth. After all, Satan was the absolute ruler of Hell, a being of the twelfth layer, and unlike any other demon. He wasn't even referred to as a demon anymore—he was simply the Devil , an entirely different entity. Even Lilith, lord of Midea's own circle of Pride, was merely an archdemon compared to him.

But such thoughts were beyond him now, or at least they would have been if he weren't stuck in this cursed situation—watching over Lervea's offspring. Somehow, he had found himself at the epicenter of the conflict between the Circle of Pride and the Devas, solely because of these children. The fate of a war, a race, rested on his shoulders. Usually, he'd be smirking casually at becoming the center of attention. It was where someone liked him belonged after all, but he was proud, not arrogant. He understood when he was out of his depth, but even then the responsibility stuck with him all the same. This would be either his rise to magnificence with the full support of Lervea and her children behind him or it'd be his complete annihilation

With that sobering thought in mind, he made his way to a secret meeting. A few hours after his conversation with Remus, Lain had invoked her mentor's authority to call together a council of the village elders—those who had reached the second layer in their cultivation. The meeting was shrouded in secrecy due to the possibility that Remulus had allies or spies in the village. He turned a corner, approaching a medium-sized wooden structure that smelled faintly of herbs. It was likely one of the village's many storage houses.

Knock, knock.

A gruff voice called from behind the door, "What's the password?"

Midea let out a weary sigh before replying, "And the wolf wore pig skin. And the wolf ate the pigs. And the wolf's teeth were red. And the pigs were wolves. And the sky was gold . And the suns were eaten by Tarak. And the wolf was cold but his stomach was warm. And then the wolf was killed by pigs. And then the pigs were wolves. And the world was cold, the sky black—it was never gold ."

How needlessly complex. The door creaked open after what felt like an eternity. An older man with tiny eyes, a bald head, but thick black eyebrows and wolven ears ushered him inside. The corridor was covered in dust, clearly an ancient part of the village, which made sense for secret gatherings. Yet the smell of herbs persisted. Perhaps it had been used as a storage for medicinal supplies at one point, or maybe that smell simply lingered in this world, sticking to the walls and air. Lain, with her practice in medicine, always carried that scent with her.

The old herb house had been transformed into a kind of amphitheater. Chairs encircled the center of the room where Remus, Lain, and an elderly woman stood. The old woman had kind wrinkles etched into her face, her hair turned silver with age. Despite her short stature—especially next to the imposing Remus—she exuded a vitality that belied her years. She wore ceremonial white robes adorned with images of the seven suns and a formless beast burning beneath their light. Above the suns was a wolf, enshrined and protected by their glow. Around her neck was a crystal laced with gold, clearly a symbol of heavy cultural significance, and she held a wooden staff in her left hand.

"Midea , welcome. Please, have a seat," Remus gestured toward one of the chairs.

Midea took a seat next to a man with a long, grotesque scar that ran down the right side of his face, leaving his eye milky white. The sight was repulsive; he silently wondered why the man didn't wear a mask to spare others the displeasure of seeing it. The man's damaged visage was an affront to Midea's sensibilities—House Valefor valued beauty and strength, and this man represented neither.

"I' ll introduce everyone," Remus began. "The man beside you is Hathor."

The scarred man gave Midea a dismissive glance but said nothing. His rudeness sparked Midea's inner disdain, but he chose not to react. Now wasn't the time to create unnecessary enemies.

"That is Skollf, that is Ondallf, and that is Randalk," Remus continued, pointing out the other figures in the room. Skollf was taller than Midea but not as tall as Remus. He had sandy brown hair and a leaner physique compared to the other warriors. Ondallf was round, surprisingly so for a people who lived such hard, survivalist lives. His well-groomed mustache gave him an air of nobility. Randalk, on the other hand, was a sheer wall of muscle, shorter than Remus but equally as broad. The man's crimson-tinted skin gleamed in the moonlight, and Midea wondered for a moment if the villagers used steroids or if this was simply the result of cultivation gone overboard. Some simply liked the aesthetic after all.

Remus continued, introducing four more elders, all men, before finally pointing to the elderly woman at his side. "And this, Midea, though I'm sure you've heard, is the High Priestess of the Seven Suns, Baya."

The old woman's laughter filled the room. "Bagyagyagya! I heard a damn goat-man had entered our village, but I wasn't sure whether to believe it. Tell me, what sun birthed a race like yours?"

Midea was taken aback by the woman's rudeness but wasn't one to be cowed by such things. His upbringing in as a Scelus had taught him to stand his ground.

"Apparently, one that favors me, given my youth," Midea replied smoothly, allowing a smile to curl on his lips. "It seems cultivation hasn't been as kind to you."

He knew when to submit and when to push back. He could feel several sharp glances towards him but he didn't care. He had grown up in House Valefor where he was in competition with several hundred of his father's children. And he had been the one to come out on top. He knew where to give in but he also knew when to stand up for himself. If one bowed their head in submission all the time the weight that kept their head down would decapitate them one day. Such was the state of hell.

Baya cackled, her eyes gleaming. "Bagyagyagya! At least this young goat has a spine! Let's get on with it, you useless children."

The tension eased, and Remus chuckled softly. "I apologize for Baya. She has… a certain way about her."

Midea nodded but said nothing, watching as Remus' face turned grave. "I've called this council because we need to discuss something of grave importance. Midea has brought to my attention that my brother, Remulus, maybe using dark arts. Lain, who entered his house, has witnessed something that supports this. She has the floor to speak on it now."

Lain stepped forward, clearing her throat nervously. "I swear on the Seven Suns, what I witnessed today was evil. I went to visit Peter, Remulus' son, but I also wanted to investigate the rumors surrounding Remulus. As Baya's successor, it's my duty to ensure the village is protected from any dark influences."

Hathor shifted beside Midea, clearly unimpressed. "It is not your duty, woman , to investigate elders, especially someone like Remulus."

"Hathor!" Remus' voice thundered through the room, silencing any further protest. "Let her finish and then raise your objections."

Lain, unfazed, continued. "As I said, I wanted to investigate. Remulus' house was strange—there was a hidden chamber beneath the floors in one of the back rooms. Inside… I saw things. Twisted things. Blood and flesh, though I couldn't tell if they were from our people or animals.I wanted to leave immediately, but my duty kept me there."

Despite her soft appearance it seems she had a formidable inner strength to her being as well.

"I found out that what he had made was a summoning ritual. During the night of the three new moons, he will go to the highest point in the village and summon the accursed races upon the Wolvenblade." She continued.

She pulled out a wooden plaque, carving symbols into it as she spoke. The room fell silent, everyone turning to Baya for confirmation.

The old woman nodded, her expression suddenly serious "She speaks the truth."

Midea recognized the crude summoning symbols. They weren't too dissimilar from the basic rune work the villagers had been using to enchant their weapons, though they were far more advanced.

"He has defenses in place, " Lain continued. "I believe the room is lined with self-destruct runes. He wasn't home when I investigated, but if he were..."

Randalk, the warrior, stood, his bulk casting a large shadow across the room. " Then we should strike now! Catch him off guard and stop this madness before it begins."

The room murmured in agreement, but Baya quickly silenced them.

"Quiet down brats! My disciple here thought a lot about this. Hear her out completely before you continue your ignorant gossip." Baya spittled at them and with an authority that could only come from seniority. It was rather funny to see how much power the old woman held despite the literal patriarchy of the village.

Lain modestly gratefully and continued, "If we attack him now, the self-destruct runes will go off . And as we know Remulus was one of our strongest warriors. Our second strongest in fact at the ninth shackle of the second layer for a long time like our chieftain before he broke through to the third. Combined with his self-destructive runes and himself how do you think confronting him would go, with his power enhanced by dark arts now? Even if we win, the destruction would be immense."

Ondallf stroked his mustache before saying. "Even with that being the case we have the chieftain and several warriors of the second layer including Midea. He will be trouble but out victory is assured. Would the destruction he caused not be vastly inferior to what will happen if his plan succeeds?"

"Yes lord Ondallf, however, the summoning ritual is not as simple as you think. Because the Vampyrs are mindless creatures he would have to go out into the surrounding forest and somehow mark large amounts. And we know he has been leaving the village recently as we all know he just came back just after the last big attack ."

"While the accursed races are generally mindless," Lain explained, pointing to the runes again. "Remulus has been subtly influencing them. He's been leaving the village often, marking them in the forest. And Vampyrs move in pacts. When he marks beings and they come to the village he is able to mark more and more. Think of it like an infection that spreads amongst them. So it's likely cases of attacks will increase until the new moons. And when the new moons come, he'll have already marked enough to bring them straight to our walls directly. If we break the ritual before the new moons, the Vampyrs will go wild. The forest will become even more dangerous."

She paused before continuing her explanation.

"During the new moons, both Remulus and the ritual will be at their most tenuous state. During this time if we destroy the ritual and defeat Remulus the vampyrs souls will be directly impacted by the backlash from the broken connection amplified by the power of the new moons and ritual." Lain said making her point.

"Bagyagya, what she means is all those damn Vampyrs will die and no self-destruct runes will go off and we can deal with the bastard!" Baya said as if it was plain obvious. Which it was to him but the others didn't get it.

"""Ahhh.""" They all let out sounds in agreement to the simplified explanation. However, there was something wrong here. It didn't sit right with Midea.

" If , they are mindless and there are no other ways to control them." He said breaking the room of agreeing people. He saw Lains eyes snap up at him as the room fell silent.

"The accursed races have always been mindless," the room echoed in total agreement like what they had said was an indisputable law of nature. He even saw some looks of disdain from the elders. But no law was absolute cultivation itself exemplified this rule, all laws could be flipped as easily as a greedy person could be with a bribe. No rule was absolute, and Midea knew better than to trust in the static nature of the world.

"If you are confident, then I have nothing more to say on it. I will not lecture you on your culture as if I know better. However, I think it's best to be wary. You never know after all."

They shook their heads as if what he was saying was absurd. When in actuality they were the absurd ones for throwing aside his warnings so completely and utterly. He sighed in exasperation inwardly.

They scoffed at him, clearly unwilling to entertain the idea. Midea sighed inwardly once more. How Foolish.

"In any case," he continued, "if attacks are going to increase, I'll reinforce the village walls with wards. I can also set up a few teleportation points for emergencies, though I can't link too many without causing spatial Thus they are unable to exist in close proximity to one another. Not to mention they require a great deal of numen to maintain."

Baya cackled once more. "Bagyagyagyagya! It'd be wise to place a few at the core seed as well."

The elders reacted with shock at her suggestion, and Midea raised an eyebrow. "The core?"

Remus explained, "It's an area only priestesses can enter. All priestesses practice healing and wood arts. The seed is connected to the main wall that surrounds most of our village. It runs numen through the structure and it is why it is so easy for our wood art uses to manipulate it somewhat to guard against enemy attacks as you saw in our first battle. As those who worship the sun, they practice unique wood arts that allow them to manipulate the seed. The seed is a piece of rune work that controls the wall to be simple. It can even make openings in the wall aside from the main gate."

"Hoh. And you're willing to let me near it?" Midea asked, genuinely surprised. The seed was the village's greatest defense. Letting him near it was either an act of complete trust or reckless desperation. After all, this was the core of their village, without their wall they would be subject to all the horrors of this world and vampyrs would kill off so many of them that Wolvenblade would go extinct not soon after. They had no idea what he could do while he was there with the object. And they knew for a fact that the old woman couldn't stop him. Even Remus couldn't stop him at least not without him doing some serious damage first. It seemed bold and somewhat absurd.

Baya laughed again. "Bagyagyagya! After you warned us to be cautious, even when we disagreed, I can tell you're not just a slimy bastard . You've got some spine to you. Plus, we're not completely trusting you—we've still got those two kids you brought with you. Their safety is tied to ours. It's not all faith, goat-man."

Despite the seemingly rude words, Midea could feel the intent behind them. The woman was both crude and kindly. He couldn't help but feel as if they had put too much faith in him. A literal demon not that they knew that of course. Which was kind of his point.

Remus chuckled . "Exactly. You wouldn't disappoint us, would you?"

While he didn't quite like the way the chieftain or priestess had put it, he would let the wolves have their moment. No need to save his pride here. One had to know when to advance and retreat. And of course,one had to know when to put in a little flair to gain more trust. Because trust was control and stability. And that was what he needed right now in this place.

As such Midea allowed himself a serpentine grin. "Disappointment? That's for those who aim low. I do not miss, fault, or fall short. I am the crescendo of expectation, the embodiment of certainty. To know me is to understand that failure is reserved for lesser beings. In my hands, even chaos bends to perfection. To those who doubt—well, you'll simply have to wait and see. In my homeland, we have a saying: A Scelus never disappoints.

___________________

In the dark, abyssal chamber beneath Remulus' home, an altar stood grotesquely at the center, its surface slick with dark, viscous blood. The space was bathed in shadows so deep they seemed to move and writhe like living creatures, with shapes shifting in the periphery of vision—half-glimpsed figures that weren't quite there but always just beyond sight. The air itself felt heavy, oppressive, weighed down by some unseen presence, while the walls seemed to breathe in tandem with the ragged, unsettling whispers echoing from unseen corners. Dark runic marks glowed faintly around the altar, pulsing with a sickly green hue, their origins and meanings lost to madness. The symbols crawled, alive with chaotic energies, twisting the very fabric of reality around them as if the room itself was struggling to remain anchored to the world outside.

Reality sagged here. Corners weren't quite right, stretching off into distances that shouldn't exist, and shadows clung to the edges of things like parasites, feeding off the space. Gibbering, incoherent voices whispered incessantly, echoing from corners beyond corners, from places that defied spatial logic. This room wasn't just wrong; it was broken. A wound in the world.

Sagged against the wall like a discarded ragdoll, Peter sat slumped, his body an empty shell. His eyes were wide open, pupils glazed over as if he stared into some terrible abyss—seeing everything and nothing all at once. His chest rose and fell shallowly, but there was no life in his gaze. His limbs were limp, and his mouth hung half-open, dribbling spit down his chin. It was as though his soul had long since fled, leaving his body a hollow, animated corpse, nothing more than a puppet to the horrific forces now occupying the space.

Atop the altar, Remulus knelt, naked, his trembling form covered in blood and twisted , dark runic symbols that writhed on his skin as if they were alive. His entire body shook violently, though the tremors were slowly beginning to calm. Two grotesque spinal cords jutted from the center of the altar, their origins buried deep within a monstrous corpse -like figure fused grotesquely with the stone floor, as if it had been dragged halfway from some burial pit or born from the floor itself. Its emaciated arms were splayed out over the altar, draped like withered, skeletal vines, their clawed fingers caring Remulus' bare form in a sick parody of intimacy.

The creature's heads—two gaunt, skeletal faces—were perched atop the spines like grotesque flowers blooming from rotten stems. Flesh, bone, and darkness intertwined to create a nightmarish imitation of what a face should be, each malformed, horrid, and wrong in every possible way. Their eyeless sockets were pits of pure darkness, their mouths open wide, spewing thick rivulets of blood onto Remulus as they babbled insanities. The blood reeked of iron and rot, soaking into his skin and matting his hair. It wasn't just blood—it was something more. It was tainted, corrupted, pulsing with dark energy as if it carried the essence of the monstrous creature itself.

The air was thick with the stench of decay and something far worse—something primordial. The shadows, responding to the madness of the room, whispered things too quiet to hear but too loud to ignore. Their voices were slurred, nonsensical, and layered in such a way that it was impossible to tell how many there were. Some muttered, others screamed, and still others seemed to laugh—a chorus of madness.

"Remulus, Remulus, Remulus!" one of the heads shrieked, its voice a sickly, gurgling wail that echoed unnaturally in the chamber.

"You know what you must do," the voice continued, its tone warped with malice. "The new moons. Death and destruction, rot and rot and rot. Blood and horror, sorrow and despair. Flesh and bone. Devour, consume, replace."

The other head joined in, echoing the madness, its voice overlapping in a discordant symphony with its twin. "Eat, eat, eat and rot! Death, death, death! Blood and ruin! Rot and rebirth! Remulus! Remulus! Remulus!"

The blood soaking into Remulus' skin seemed to crawl of its own volition, pulsing in rhythm with the voices as they pushed him toward submission. His trembling began to ease as the madness wrapped tighter around his mind.

"...Will I get my wife back then?" Remulus asked, his voice a broken whisper , barely audible above the gibbering insanity. "Will that satisfy you?"

One of the heads twisted downward, its hollow eyesockets dripping with congealed blood. Its grin was wide, stretching too far to be human. "Remulus, Remulus, Remulus... didn't we bring your child back to you?" the head cackled, its voice both mocking and cruel. "We dragged him from bone and dirt, pulled him from the maggots and the beasts. Isn't he with you now? Look!"

Peter's body jerked upright, his limbs twitching unnaturally as he began a horrid, twisted dance around the altar. His empty, blackened eyes locked onto his father as he moved like a marionette controlled by invisible strings. The child's expression remained blank, but his mouth hung open in a terrible, silent grin, as though death had twisted his once-innocent face into a nightmarish mask.

He swayed closer to Remulus, arms flailing in grotesque mockery of joy. Then, leaning in, Peter's face hovered inches from Remulus', his lifeless green eyes staring into his father's.

"Bring back my mommy," Peter whispered, his voice a childish whine. But as the words left his mouth, his face contorted, warping into something hideous and inhuman. His mouth stretched far too wide, revealing a gaping abyss of pure darkness where his throat should be. "Bring me my mommy. BRING ME MOMMY!" His voice escalated into an unnatural, deafening shriek that reverberated through the chamber.

Remulus turned his head away, tears streaming from his bloodshot eyes as the voices of the heads pushed him further, prodding at his sanity like knives.

"Bring him back his mommy, Remmy! Remmy! Remmy!" The voices chanted, their laughter bubbling up from the shadows, distorted and cruel.

"FUCK YOU!" Remulus screamed, his voice breaking with raw, agonized fury as he jerked upright. His green eyes, identical to his brother's and son's, were wide with rage and sorrow. "Don't you DARE call me that! Only SHE called me that!"

The heads cackled in unison, their laughter a harsh, grating sound. "Gonna hurt us, Remmy? What about your boy?" they taunted, the skeletal faces bobbing mockingly above him.

Remulus' fists clenched, his teeth grinding together as the mockery continued, the heads bouncing and twisting as they jeered. But then, as if sensing his weakness, one of the faces began to shift, warping in front of his eyes. The gaunt, skeletal visage twisted and transformed, taking on the appearance of a beautiful, tanned woman with long black hair and narrow, piercing dark eyes. Her sharp features were softened by sorrow, and her lips quivered as if she were about to cry.

"Kiyanna…" Remulus whispered, his voice breaking. His fury was instantly replaced with despair.

The woman's face drew closer to him, her eyes brimming with tears. "Remmy," she pleaded softly, her voice a delicate whisper that cut straight to his core. "Please help me. Please save me, Remmy. I don't want to die. Why didn't you help me back then? Why did you fail me? Why did you fail us?"

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Her words stabbed into him like daggers, and Remulus' resolve crumbled. His mind was flooded with memories, fragments of the life he once had with her. Her laughter. Her warmth. And the day he had lost her. His hands trembled, reaching out toward the vision of his wife as tears streamed down his face.

"II tried my best. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll do anything... please, I just , I just—"

"Why did you fail us, daddy?" Peter's voice whispered, his childlike face now inches from Remulus, his expression blank yet filled with accusation.

Remulus gasped, his pupils shaking as the walls between memory and reality blurred. His heart pounded painfully in his chest, each beat a reminder of his failures. He had tried. He had done everything he could, hadn't he?

"You were always jealous of Remus," Kiyanna's voice whispered, now filled with bitterness. Her lips curled into a sneer. "He had everything you didn't. The affection of the village, the respect. He shone like a star, and you were just a shadow."

"No… it wasn't like that…" Remulus' voice wavered, his mind spiraling as memories of his brother's successes and his own failures crashed into him.

The other head warped, transforming into the stern, bearded face of his father. The old man's harsh, unyielding gaze bore into Remulus, his lips twisted in the same disgusted scowl Remulus had seen so many times growing up.

"From the moment of your birth, every single step you've taken, every idea you've had, has been nothing but a disappointment," his father's voice growled, dripping with contempt. "Nothing you've ever done has been 'right,' Remulus. Nothing."

The words reverberated through his skull, shattering his already fragile mind. He couldn't remember anymore. Had his father really said those things? Or was this some twisted delusion born of guilt and madness?

"But when Remus came to him, he was met with only love," Kiyanna's voice hissed in his ear. "Maybe it's because your mother was just a one-night stand, a mistake."

Her words tore at him, the insinuation ripping away any remaining semblance of composure. His heart ached, and his soul screamed in protest. It wasn't 't like that, he told himself. It wasn't.

"For people like that… why do it, Remmy? We always loved you. Bring us back. Even now, they look at you with fear, with distrust. They only see a bastard. A shadow. But you were always our sun."

"Kiyanna wouldn't say that," Remulus whispered, but even his voice wavered with doubt.

The head shifted back into its previous grotesque form, its wide grin splitting its face. "We can bring her back, Remmy. Just follow the plan."

"REMMY! REMMY! REMMY!" The chamber filled with their chanting once again, the voices rising to a deafening crescendo, drowning out the last remnants of his sanity.

Defeated , broken, Remulus nodded weakly. The shadows recoiled, retreating back into the walls and corners. The twisted body of the creature, along with its dual heads, sank back into the stone, leaving the chamber eerily quiet. Peter's puppet-like body collapsed to the floor with a sickening thud, his limbs bent at unnatural angles as he lay still once more.

But the blood remained. The blood always remained, congealing into a thick, tar-like substance that clung to the floor and walls, bubbling and separating, merging into grotesque shapes and patterns.

"AHHHHHHHH!!" Remulus screamed, clawing at his face , his nails drawing blood. He couldn't stand it. The guilt, the rage, the sorrow—it all tore at him, ripping him apart from the inside. The world itself seemed to mock him. His mind was a prison, each memory a chain pulling him deeper into the abyss.

Why? Why is nothing the same as it was?

_______________________

It had been a few days since Tanya's fateful meeting with Luna, and much had changed in that short span. The night after the lecture, where she'd lamented her lack of meridians and cursed her fate, had now drifted into memory. The day after that, Tanya had finally begun speaking—albeit in half-words. The effect was immediate. Shock rippled through the village, a collective astonishment that someone so young was already forming speech.

Hati, of course, had reacted with typical exuberance, grabbing Tanya and swinging her around as if she were her own child, boasting loudly about how smart the little " sun angel" was. The redhead's enthusiasm was palpable, her voice carrying through the village. She had boasted to Garran several times in particular, which she thought was strange. There was probably some psychological reason for that but she had no intention of thinking to deeply in the issue. Garran, meanwhile, had looked startled and mildly disturbed, though he flick kept his usual stoic demeanor. His eyes, however, betrayed a unease. And then there was Midea. The satyr shared a similar sentiment with Garran— he was both amused and disturbed, though there was an air of familiarity about his reaction. He had known all along, or at least suspected it.

Tanya could see it in his eyes. There was no surprise in them, only a chuckle that said, I knew this would happen . Yet, behind that smirk, there was something more: a glimmer of disturbance. An interesting combination of emotions and one Tanya filed away for future questioning. Now that she could speak openly without arousing too much suspicion, she was curious to dig deeper into Midea's mind. He had, after all, been playing her up for days, helping to ease the villagers' shock by creating an aura of awe around her. Although she was pretty sure he did that unintentionally . She didn't particularly enjoy the attention, but if it meant she could speak years ahead of schedule, she wasn't about to complain too much. She couldn't find it within herself to be angry at the Satyr for it.

Her nights had been filled with Luna's company—amusing the girl while simultaneously learning more about her situation. Luna had opened up quickly, offering Tanya a wealth of information about the village's culture and myths, often comparing her to the stars and mythical figures she idolized . Tanya found the girl's excitement contagious at times, even if she found it baffling how quickly Luna accepted her as something extraordinary. Then again Tanya in this life had been named after one of the seven stars that were revered almost like deities in this world. She even had a title simply by virtue of her birth during a particularly rough time for the planet.

In the future she would have to grow used to reverence or at least admiration it seemed. Her full name, which sounded more like an epithet than anything , carried weight in the village. The people viewed her in an almost divine light, which was understandable, given the strange circumstances of her birth and her latent abilities. It wasn't hard for Tanya to relate to them. She could understand how strange her existence was, given how people were starting to look at her, but she didn't enjoy the deity comparisons. Still, she was pragmatic enough to recognize the benefits such respect afforded her.

The days, meanwhile, were busy. Hati dragged her from place to place, and Garran continued to be the unwilling subject of her training demonstrations. Hati had asked Garran to teach her various combat moves, all under the pretense that she wanted to learn quickly once she was old enough to begin formal training. Tanya, however, was fairly certain Hati just wanted an excuse to see Garran without his shirt on. Something she didn't understand because the men rarely wore shirts. In fact they wore their armor more than they did their shirts despite the pieces of clothing being readily available. That being said it was still something Hati seemed to enjoy commenting on.

Aside from observing Hati's antics and absorbing Luna's stories, Tanya spent her days following Midea, watching him inscribe wards around the village. She babbled intentionally in his presence, her words half-formed, but her eyes took in everything he did. All the while he looked at her with that same sense of being both amused and disturbed. The Vampyr attack had apparently been enough to warrant a complete overhaul of the village's defenses. As Midea had been working tirelessly, often layering wards in ways Tanya found fascinating. She watched him carefully, storing away every detail of his craft for later use. The man was an artist through and through. If she could not cultivate then she wasn't so terribly upset that this may be her path. The Satyr also went slower in order to teach her intentionally. Or he would just straight up explain things.

Today was no different. Midea was currently inscribing another ward near the outer wall, his movements methodical and precise, tracing the intricate symbols with a mixture of blood and ink.

"This is the stacked technique," Midea explained as his hand deftly layered the wards. "Wards can be layered directly atop one another through manipulation of numen and a slight change in how they're drawn. Intent is critical, as the wards drink from the essence of the soul—well, not truly, or you'd die, but they're exhausting to create, as I'm sure you've experienced."

Tanya hadn't experienced any real exhaustion when drawing wards, but she nodded along, observing the way the wards floated, stacking themselves seamlessly with subtle alterations to their shapes. There was something hypnotic about the way he worked—an art form, really. She couldn't use numen, but her analytical mind devoured the information eagerly. She mostly noted how he slightly changed the shape of that he drew them in. This was a huge part of why they were able to stack and it was really the only part that the current she could learn thoroughly at the moment. It would grant her a solid foundation for her future endeavors.

"And a single ward can only be layered a maximum of nine times, correct?" she asked, tilting her head as she watched him.

Midea froze, nearly dropping his brush. His eyes snapped to her, wide with shock.

"...And how did you come to that conclusion ?" he asked, his voice measured but clearly surprised.

Tanya shrugged. "You mentioned previously that nine is integral in creation. Nine shackles in each layer of the soul before transcendence into higher authority in... well, I suppose I can' t say 'universe.' You also mentioned meridians are graded in multiples of nine. It seemed reasonable to assume the rule of nine applies to the wards as well. The stacking technique resembles the explanation you gave for how shackles function, so I put two and two together."

Midea shook his head in disbelief, muttering something under his breath before clearing his throat. "Ahem, you're truly a little monster, aren't you? Just as good as me when I was your age."

Tanya allowed the ghost of a smile to form on her lips. It wasn' t the compliment that amused her, but the fact that this intelligent, proud man was acting like one of those fathers who exaggerated their past glories. I could bench press four plates in high school, she thought sarcastically. Still, she was curious about something. Midea had used the word "monster" to describe her. It wasn't just about her intelligence; there was something else behind the term. Was it because of her avian physiology? Her unnatural strength? She'd recognized early on that her exceedingly violent instincts were abnormal. And essentially knew for a fact that Midea knew more about her new race than he let on. She had no intention of asking him in public due to the possible leak of their shared secrets. But she did have the intention of asking the man to go to a more private place soon.

Before she could ask, they were interrupted by a boy no older than ten. He had tawny brown hair and green eyes, a spitting image of Garran. 'Has Hati already lost out to the other girl?' Tanya mused, though she doubted it, given how determined Hati still seemed.

"Woaahhh, what are these?" the boy asked, his eyes wide with childlike wonder as he looked at Midea's work. Before Tanya could respond, he turned to her briefly. "Nice to meet you, I'm Peter!"

Tanya nodded at him, but before she could say a word, Peter had already turned back to Midea, his curiosity clearly overriding any sense of decorum. Children, she thought with a sigh.

"Where are you putting all of these? They're so cool!" Peter asked excitedly.

"Just around the walls and some other areas to reinforce them," Midea replied calmly, though Tanya noticed he was watching Peter closely now as if something about the boy warranted attention.

"I heard you can even teleport with them! Where will you put them? I want to be able to teleport from my house to school. Then I'd never be late for any class!"

Midea stopped and then grinned slightly, his eyes still focused on the boy. "Unfortunately, I can only set up one, and it's for the warriors to travel between the barracks and another key location. Civilians might also be transferred during an attack—to keep kids like you safe from the bad guys."

Peter beamed at the explanation but then seemed to fidget. "I wonder if I'll ever be as good at wards as you are!"

Midea's smirk widened. "I doubt you'll ever be as good as me, but I'll make sure you get a chance to learn."

Peter grinned in response, but suddenly his face shifted to one of shock. "It's a monster!" he screamed and ran off immediately. Midea didn't react, only grinning wider. Tanya, on the other hand, turned around to see what had scared the boy.

Her face met a pair of large breasts. It wasn't as pleasant as it sounded.

"Hi, Surya!" Hati said, leaning over her with a mischievous grin. "Come on, walk with me. The old goat is done with his warding,right? Oh! That reminds me, you can teach me those wards! Garran missed his first lesson, and he hasn't held another lecture since."

Tanya stared at her, still processing the sudden change in circumstances, while Midea chimed in with his usual calm demeanor. "I have responsibilities, Hati, and I'm certainly not old. But yes, I'm done with the wards here. She's free for you to drag elsewhere."

Tanya shot him a glare as she was dragged away by Hati. This is betrayal, she thought. There will be consequences. She locked eyes with Midea, refusing to blink until he, visibly uncomfortable, vanished from sight using some sort of technique. It did satisfy her that it made him use a technique of some sort to disappear rather than endure her gaze, but it was a fleeting solace.

Hati didn't seem to notice Tanya's internal turmoil as she produced yet another flask of milk, thrusting it into Tanya's hands while parading her around the village. "This is the smithy," Hati explained, pointing at a shop with axes displayed on its sign. "The guy in there, Bardo, is a bastard. Didn't want to make weapons for me because I'm a girl, so I just stole them."

Tanya took a sip of the milk—still the highlight of her day—as Hati continued her tour. "That's where they make clothes. They don't like me either, say I have no talent in sewing. But we both know I could definitely be the best if I tried, right, Surya?"

Tanya just sighed inwardly as Hati rambled on, listing her grudges with each stop. Eventually, they reached the training grounds near the barracks, where Hati suddenly turned to her with a gleam in her eyes.

"I think you should try running the course today! And then we can sit down for some milk afterward! "

Tanya raised an eyebrow. Is she serious? I'm barely a week old. Unnatural strength non-withstanding "Don't you think it's a bit early for that?"

Hati's expression turned deadly serious as she locked eyes with Tanya. " Surya, let me teach you something. It all starts with you—everything you've ever wanted, everything you've ever dreamed of. It starts today. Live each day pushing at the bounds of what's possible. Live each day like you want to eat the moon or the sun because tomorrow is never guaranteed."

Tanya blinked. Did she just turn into a motivational speaker?

As much as she appreciated the message(or didn't) to Hati's knowledge she was a week old. In actual terms of the age of her soul she was also around that age. Only her mind was ahead, what the hell could she have dreamed of or desired in this short time? She was somewhat breaking her tsundere archetype with this, no?

As Hati dragged her toward the obstacle course which she had no real intention of doing, they encountered a group of boys around Hati's age. Which she estimated to be around 19 given her character and level of development. The leader of the group was a walking stereotype: slicked-back blonde hair, a cocky smirk, and an attitude that screamed spoiled brat . Trailing behind him were a fat boy, a muscular one, and a lanky one. They all had that air of false confidence, the kind born from following someone else's lead.

"Well, look who it is," the blonde boy sneered, his smile widening as he eyed Hati. " It's this manly bitch. Going to try and train your tears away again because Garran thinks your ass is so ugly he doesn't consider you a woman? Becoming more manly is not the solution to your issue Amara. And look at you corrupting the next generation."

Tanya felt an immediate surge of annoyance. What a sleaze.

"My name is Hati, and if you don't call me that, I'll kick your ass again Conryn." Hati snapped back, her voice filled with venom.

Let it be known that Hati was actually really strong. She was just under Garran in terms of shackles and there were not that many soldiers on that level. After all, Garran was the general of the entire village. The only people on the second layer aside from Midea were the eight elders of this village and apparently the high priestess. Everyone else was middling in the first layer somewhere. Which was to say Hati was one of the strongest people in the small army they had.

Conryn, as the boy was apparently named, chuckled. "Like I said, so brutish. Are you sure you aren't some hermaphrodite? You didn't even beat me last time."

Hati sneered, her eyes glinting dangerously. "If one of us is a hermaphrodite, it's you. Never before have I seen such a whining little bitch who calls for his daddy in a fight. Have your balls dropped yet? Or is your daddy still holding your sack to help you piss? Hathor isn't here to help you, Conryn."

Tanya was impressed. Hati really knows how to put people in their place.

Tanya had pegged him correctly this boy–Conryn was just the type. Incompetent and sleazy and relying on other people. He was a spoiled brat on top of it and in a different way from someone like Midea.

Conryn turned bright red, and the boys behind him stifled their laughter. "Fuck you!" Conryn spat, his voice cracking slightly as he and his group walked past them.

But then Tanya heard the telltale sound of something whistling through the air. She turned just in time to see a glowing rock hurtling toward Hati's head. It was moving fast, imbued with numen, and Hati wasn't prepared. Without the supernatural energy coating her,the blow could knock her out—or worse.

Without thinking, Tanya extended one of her wings, deflecting the rock with ease, right back at his face of course. She felt no pain. In fact, she hadn't even hardened her wing. The rock flew back at twice the speed, slamming into Conryn's face with a sickening crunch.

"AAAUUUGGGHHH!!" Conryn's scream echoed through the training grounds as blood sprayed from his nose, his head snapping back from the force of the impact.

Tanya felt a wave of satisfaction wash over her. How satisfying.

"What the hell is that little bird thing?" one of the boys shouted.

"Fucking monster!" The muscular boy and the skinny boy said in concert.

She wondered if they were reading from a script considering how basic they were. It was really almost cartoonish, their actions that is. She was half of the mind to just cut off their han— yeah this body is definitely affecting the way she thinks.

The group scrambled to help Conryn, their bravado evaporating as they realized they were outmatched. They hurried away, shooting nervous glances over their shoulders.

"Yeah! That's what you fucking get!" Hati yelled after them, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "And don't you ever call my Surya a monster again!"

Tanya smirked, but before she could react, Hati turned and glomped her, rubbing her cheek against hers.

"So you do care about me!" Hati cooed, her voice filled with affection.

Tanya rolled her eyes. "Five flasks ."

"Huh?"

"Five flasks of milk," Tanya repeated, dead serious.

Hati grinned. "Only five? I'll get you ten!"

__________________

Conryn stumbled out of the healer's house, his wounds still aching despite the day's worth of treatment. He wasn't fully healed yet, but enough had been done for him to leave under his own power, albeit with a limp. His face still bore the bruises and cuts from the earlier altercation with Hati and that accursed winged creature, Surya. Rage bubbled in his chest like molten lava, simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over. Outside, his minions for waited him, the three of them lined up like obedient dogs . The moment he exited, Worgen, the fat one, dropped to his knees, eyes wide with fear.

"Ah, Conryn!" Worgen wailed. "That manly bitch is as evil as Tarak, isn't she? How dare she— "

SLAP.

The crack of Conryn's hand against Worgen's cheek reverberated through the street. The force of the blow sent Worgen sprawling several meters away, the fat boy's head spinning as he collapsed to the ground, clutching his stinging face. Tears welled up in Worgen's eyes as he groaned in pain.

"You think I didn't hear you holding back a fucking chuckle, minion?" Conryn sneered, advancing on him, his eyes flashing with malice. "Do you want me to tell my father what happened? Do you know what he'd do to your dad's business? Actually…" Conryn's smile widened, turning predatory. "I hear your younger sister is pretty cute, unlike you. I wonder what would happen if I really asked for her?"

Worgen's face drained of color as he crawled back up to Conryn's feet, sobbing, tears and snot mixing on his already bruised face. "No, please! I'm sorry! I didn't mean anything by it, I swear!"

"Enough." Conryn spat on him, the thick glob landing squarely on Worgen's head. "You already look pathetic enough on the daily, you bloated sack of shit."

Worgen whimpered but said nothing, too terrified to respond.

"Get up," Conryn ordered, his voice low and venomous. "We're going to fuck up that little monster's house. How dare it strike me? It's not even part of this fucking village."

With that, Conryn led his trio of lackeys to the small home where Surya had been staying. Fear gnawed at the back of his mind as he neared the house, but he pushed it down, refusing to let it show. He might be terrified of facing her in direct combat—she'd killed a Vampyr of the fourth shackle, something he, at the sixth shackle, couldn't dream of doing—but that didn't matter. Hati was also stronger than him, yet she still had to bow to his father's influence. His father was at the second layer, a true powerhouse in the village, and Conryn was confident that no matter what happened, he would be protected. Midea's presence in the village meant little to him. That goat-man might have strength, but he didn't have the deep roots here that Conryn's family did.

No, whatever happened today, he could blame one of his minions. His father had always protected him, and with the talisman in his pocket, he could summon him at a moment's notice. He could push the blame onto Worgen or Ohkong if things went sideways.

He sneered as he approached Surya's home, his anger rising with each step.

"You, Ohkong. Knock in her walls."

The muscled minion obeyed without hesitation. He slammed his fists into the wooden structure, shattering the walls with ease, leaving fragments of broken toys and scattered debris in his wake. Conryn watched with twisted satisfaction as the once neatly arranged home was reduced to ruins.

"Skinny one, ruin her shit."

The skinny boy immediately rushed inside, overturning furniture and tearing through the few possessions Surya had. He kicked over a small table, splintering it into pieces, and then gleefully smashed a pot against the ground,sending shards skittering across the floor.

Conryn stood by the doorway, a sick grin on his face. His heart swelled with a sense of triumph. It felt good to ruin something that belonged to that monstrous little bird. But his bloodlust wasn't sated yet. He wanted more.

" Worgen," Conryn said, turning to the fat boy with a smirk. "Shit on the ruins."

Worgen's eyes widened in horror, his face paling. "W-what?" he stammered.

"Did I fucking stutter?"

Worgen hesitated , looking at the wreckage, then back at Conryn. But the fear of defying Conryn was stronger than his revulsion at the order. With trembling hands, he unbuttoned his pants and squatted over the ruined remnants of Surya's home, his face scrunched up in humiliation .

Conryn, Ohkong, and the skinny boy burst into laughter, jeering at Worgen's misery. "Look at the little piggy go!" Conryn howled, slapping his knee. "Too much to eat, fatass?"

The mockery continued for a few minutes until they grew bored of it. Conryn wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. "Hey, look at that other egg." He pointed to the large, red-black egg that was still nestled in its pen. "Go fuck with it."

The skinny boy hesitated, but with a nod from Conryn, he moved toward the egg. As soon as he stepped past a certain point, a purple barrier of numen flared to life, blocking his advance.

"No can do, boss," the skinny boy said, knocking on the opaque shield. "This thing's solid as a rock."

Conryn grew in frustration and stomped toward the pen, kicking at the barrier in anger. But before his foot could even make contact—

CRRKKK! CRRKKK!

Cracks began to spread along the surface of the numen shield. Conryn froze, his heart racing. How the hell was the barrier breaking? Midea had set those wards himself, and they were supposed to be impenetrable, especially to someone at his level. Fear crawled up his spine as the cracks widened, and then, with a deafening shatter , the barrier disintegrated like glass.

Conryn whipped his head toward the pen, and his blood ran cold. The red-black egg was broken, shattered into large pieces. And standing in its place was something… inhuman .

The newborn creature stood in the pen, chewing on pieces of its own eggshell, devouring them like they were the finest delicacies. The boy—or what seemed to be a boy—had skin the color of rich mahogany, his thick black hair streaked with silver at the tips. But it was his horns that drew Conryn's attention first. Four of them, black with white tips, jutted from his skull—two curving backward from his upper forehead, while the other two curled around his temples like a demonic crown, their tips pointing forward in a deadly arc.

His body was already well-developed, muscular despite his apparent infancy, parts of his form covered in patches of dark, pitch-black scales with white edges that gleamed under the sun. The scales and ridges ran down his spine, his shoulders, and his thighs, while a long, thick tail swayed behind him, its surface covered in jagged, black plate like scales the edges also white. His crimson-red eyes, slitted like a predator's, locked onto Conryn with an intensity that made his blood run cold. Black tattoos lined the boy's eyes, giving him an eerie, almost mystical appearance, as if he were something born of nightmares or legends.

The boy bared his fangs—sharp, blade-like teeth that glistened with the remnants of egg shell—and growled, a low, guttural sound that sent a primal fear through Conryn's very soul. For a moment, they stood there, locked in a standoff.

"What the hell… it hatched," Conryn whispered, his voice barely audible. He took a step back, the weight of the situation settling in his gut like a stone. This thing… this creature wasn't like the other one. It wasn't even the same species, was it? It had no wings or anything of the sort. There was no divine blessing here, no aura of sanctity. This was just a monster. A beast .

"You! Attack it! It's a literal infant!" Conryn barked , his voice shaking with a mixture of fear and desperation.

Ohkong hesitated for a moment, then pulled out a knife he always kept on him. He charged the boy, imbuing his body with numen, his blade flashing as he aimed for the creature's arm. But the boy moved faster —his hand shot out, bare, unprotected, and caught the blade mid-swing.

Ohkong sneered, expecting the boy's flesh to be torn apart by the blade. But to his horror, the knife didn't cut through. Instead, it shattered, crumbling to pieces in the boy's grip. The creature's crimson eyes flashed, and before Ohkong could react, the boy twisted his arm with terrifying ease, nearly ripping it clean off.

"AAAAHHH!!!" Ohkong screamed, his body convulsing in pain, but the boy didn't stop. He bit down on the man's arm, his razor-sharp teeth slicing through flesh and bone like they were nothing. Blood spurted everywhere as Ohkong's arm was severed at the stump, the boy chomping down on the flesh with grotesque satisfaction.

Ohkong tried to fight back, punching at the boy's face with his remaining arm, but the blows barely registered. The boy's tail whipped around with deadly speed , jagged spikes forming along its length mid-motion. The tail snapped forward like a whip, slashing through the air with a sickening crack. It severed Ohkong's remaining arm as if it were made of wet paper. The man's scream echoed through the clearing as he crumpled to the ground, blood spurting from his stumps. His body convulsed in pain, but the boy paid no attention, continuing to devour the flesh of his latest victim with savage hunger.

Conryn felt bile rise in his throat as he watched, paralyzed with fear. This wasn't a newborn—it was a monster, a creature born of blood and violence. The satisfaction of ruining Surya's home had completely faded, replaced by a gnawing terror that gripped his heart.

"Holy shit, help him!" Conryn yelled, snapping his head toward the skinny minion, who was frozen in fear. The boy's crimson eyes shot toward them, locking on with a predator's gaze. The skinny boy gulped, fumbling with a dart gun he kept for emergencies.

"Use the dart gun, aim for its eye!" Conryn hissed, his voice shaking. The skinny boy, his hands trembling, quickly loaded the dart and imbued it with numen, praying it would be enough. He took a deep breath and fired.

The dart whistled through the air, aimed directly at the boy's eye. Conryn's heart soared for a moment as he imagined the dart piercing the beast's vulnerable eye. It was a common strategy—eyes were hard to reinforce with numen, even at higher cultivation levels. Surely, the dart would take it down.

Ping .

The dart bounced harmlessly off the boy's bare eyeball, as though it had struck solid iron instead of flesh. The crimson eyes blinked slowly, almost lazily, before narrowing in anger. Without hesitation, the boy dropped Ohkong's lifeless arm and launched himself forward, moving faster than anything Conryn had ever seen.

The boy moved on all fours, his body a blur of black scales and muscle. He darted straight toward the skinny minion, running like a shadow through the man's legs with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed as the boy's claws and body tore through the man's lower body, completely obliterating his legs just above the knees. The skinny boy crumpled to the ground in a heap, now rendered completely useless. He screamed, his body writhing in agony.

"Aughh! Errk!" The skinny boy could barely breathe, his cries of pain turning to gurgles as the shock of his injuries overtook him.

The boy—no, the monster —didn't even pause. It turned its head toward Conryn and Worgen, its eyes flicking between them as if deciding which one to devour next.

Conryn's hand shook as he reached into his pocket, desperately pulling out the talisman that could summon his father . He sent a pulse of numen into it, hoping beyond hope that help would come before the beast reached them.

The boy's eyes locked onto the talisman for a moment before shifting back to Conryn. His predatory gaze seemed to flicker with thought, as if contemplating whether or not to attack. But then, the decision was made. The boy's crimson eyes gleamed with intent, and he crouched low, preparing to strike.

Conryn panicked, pulling out his own knife and grabbing Worgen by the collar. He shoved the fat boy in front of him like a human shield, hoping the creature would go for the easier target first.

The boy lunged forward with terrifying speed, his tail trailing behind him like a shadow. Worgen, to his credit, tried to raise a shield of numen in defense, but the boy ignored it completely. He leaped over Worgen's head, twisting his body mid- air. His tail swung down with full force, aiming directly at Conryn.

Conryn barely managed to jump back, the tail grazing his side but still slicing through his flesh like a hot knife through butter. The air pressure alone sent him crashing backward into the wreckage of Surya's home. His body collided with debris, splinters and shards of broken wood stabbing into his skin. The worst part, however, was the smell—the unmistakable stench of shit. He had landed right in Worgen's filth, his face and body smeared with the foul substance.

Gagging, Conryn tried to push himself up, his vision spinning from the pain. But before he could fully regain his bearings, he felt the boy's presence looming over him. He looked up, his breath catching in his throat.

The boy's crimson eyes were right in front of his face, only centimeters away. He could feel the creature's hot breath on his skin, see the blood still dripping from its fangs. Fear overwhelmed him, paralyzing him to the spot. He could do nothing but tremble, tears mixing with the filth on his cheeks.

"I'm going to die," Conryn thought, panic seizing every fiber of his being. His whole life, he had relied on his father's influence, his status in the village. But now, none of that mattered. He was at the mercy of a monster, one that clearly saw him as nothing more than prey.

In sheer terror, his body betrayed him. He did exactly what Worgen had done earlier—out of pure fear, he soiled himself.

The boy's tongue shot out of his mouth, a long, barbed appendage that pierced into Conryn's cheek, the sharp edges scraping against his flesh as it pulled back, leaving a ragged, bloody hole. Conryn screamed, his voice hoarse from terror, but it was drowned out by the sound of the creature's fangs descending toward him.

Suddenly, a blaze of red numen exploded between them, the force of it blasting the boy away from Conryn. The creature's tongue snapped back, pulling with it chunks of flesh as it retreated. The monster landed a few feet away, growling as it staggered to its feet, its crimson eyes flashing with anger.

Conryn recognized that energy immediately. It was his father—Hathor. Relief flooded his chest, but it was short-lived. He knew his father would come, but the reality of the situation had changed. He was not in control anymore. This beast was far more dangerous than he could have ever imagined, and now his father would have to deal with the consequences of his actions.

As Hathor's imposing figure materialized, his eyes immediately locked onto the scene before him—the wreckage, the blood, and the terrifying creature standing amidst it all. His face twisted in fury, not at the monster, but at his son.

"What in the name of the Seven Suns is that damned thing, Conryn?" Hathor's voice boomed, filled with anger and disgust.

But before Conryn could respond, the boy let out a bone-chilling roar, his body coiling as if ready to strike again. Hathor's expression shifted, his eyes narrowing as he prepared for the inevitable clash. The monster, though newborn, was no mere infant—it was a force of nature, and Hathor knew that dealing with it would take everything he had.

And Conryn, still lying in the filth and ruins of Surya's home, realized in that moment that he had not just made a mistake.

He had unleashed a nightmare.

______________

Tanya had been evading Hati for most of the day, dodging the woman's insistence that she run through the village's obstacle course, which Tanya privately dubbed "the course of doom." Hati had thrown out motivational quotes like candy, her words brimming with energy and enthusiasm, but Tanya was no fool. She knew better than to give in. Instead, she had used her natural advantage—flight—launching herself into the air and gracefully escaping Hati's relentless persuasion. It had worked , and she'd been free to head home, where she planned to check on the other egg. Her instincts had been nagging at her all day, urging her to check on it, something primal within her stirring at the thought.

Then, the ground shook beneath her.

BOOOOMM.

The sound echoed through the air, and Tanya's blood ran cold. It came from the direction of her home. Instincts surged through her as her wings flared wide, propelling her forward with powerful beats. Was it the Vampyrs again? Or something worse? Every fiber of her being screamed at her to protect the egg. Her wings sliced through the air as she flew faster than ever, closing the distance between her and the small dwelling she had come to see as a shelter.

But when she arrived, her breath hitched at the sight before her.

Her house was a wreck. Splintered wood and shattered belongings were strewn about, and the foul stench of defecation hit her nose like a slap. The scene was chaos: a boy lay in the dirt, smeared with filth, a fresh scar running across his torso and a gaping hole in his face. Another man, missing both legs above the knees, writhed in agony. Yet another, limbless, lay unconscious. And there, standing in the middle of it all, was a creature—a boy, no more than a newborn, yet primal and monstrous. Horns spiraled from his head, sharp and menacing, and a long, reptilian tail flicked behind him like a whip. His bare body glistened with blood, and his crimson eyes gleamed with a savage intensity that made Tanya's own instincts scream.

But it wasn't fear. Not at all. It was something deeper—a connection. The boy's eyes locked onto hers, recognition flashing in them instantly. And just as she recognized him, he recognized her. They were bound, not by chance, but by something far greater. Since before they were even born.

The boy turned his head fully toward her, and in that moment , Tanya felt something stir deep within her soul. This was her kin. There was no doubt about it.

But the man facing the boy—an elder, by the looks of him, with a scar across his face and one milky white eye— didn't care about that connection. His face twisted in rage as orange energy blazed around his spear, the heat of it warping the air around him. He took advantage of the moment.

"What an absurd creature," the elder spat, his voice filled with venomous hatred. "Able to survive the full force of a second-layer cultivator with nothing but a flesh wound? You need to die!"

He lunged forward, his spear aimed directly at the boy's heart, the fire surrounding it blazing hotter with every second. Tanya's instincts screamed at her, and she moved before her mind could catch up. Her wings beat fiercely, propelling her forward. But the elder's spear struck true, slamming into the boy's chest with meteoric force. But even as the weapon made contact, the boy's flesh barely gave way. The spear only managed to pierce an inch deep before sending the boy flying backward from the sheer force.

Tanya didn't hesitate. She launched herself toward him, catching him mid-air, her arms wrapping around his waist as her wings absorbed the brunt of the impact. of the blow rattled her, but she held steady, refusing to let him hit the ground.

The boy in her arms didn't struggle. He didn't lash out. He simply looked at her, his fierce crimson eyes softening as if he recognized her as something familiar, something safe. He nuzzled against her chest, and Tanya's heart swelled with an overwhelming sense of protectiveness. Her soul responded to his actions thrumming with a deep, primal sort of love.It was that same instinct which had her protect the egg in the first place.

She glanced down at the wound, her fingers tracing the small gash on his chest. The boy flinched slightly, but that was the only reaction he gave. The injury was shallow, barely more than a scratch. And then, before her very eyes, the wound began to close. The flesh knitted itself together, sealing completely in mere moments.

"Hoh!" she whispered in awe, her fingers brushing over the now unblemished skin. It was as if the attack had never happened.

Tanya looked at the boy more closely. His features, though distinct, bore undeniable similarities to her own. His skin was a different color, but the sharpness of his eyes, the markings beneath them—these were the same as hers. Although he were black, the same color as his hair just like hers she noted. He was her sibling, without a doubt.

But there was no time for further reflection. The elder's voice cut through the air again, filled with righteous fury.

"Solgaleo Sutra Unique Move: Spear of Seven Suns!"

The elder's spear split into seven blazing points of light, each one radiating immense power. The fiery weapons surged toward them, and Tanya knew she couldn't dodge in time. She had no choice but to protect her brother. She wrapped her wings around them both, hardening the feathers into a shield of pure steel-like strength.

The spears collided with her wings, each impact causing the air to shake with violent explosions. But Tanya held firm. Her wings, despite the force of the attack, remained unscathed, protecting them both from harm. When the dust settled, the elder's attack had left nothing but scorched earth.

Soon, the clearing was filled with the sounds of approaching footsteps. A group of villagers had gathered, including Midea, his face a mask of cold fury.

"HELL'S EMBRACE SEVENFOLD!!"

Midea's voice echoed through the air, his hand erupting in flames as six ethereal palms orbited around his own. He moved with blinding speed, faster than Tanya could track, and his attack was aimed directly at the elder. The blow would have killed him outright if Remus hadn't intervened, blocking the strike with his own weapon. Even so, Remus was sent skidding backward, his arms trembling from the force of the impact.

"MIDEA!" Remus roared , his voice filled with authority. "What are you doing? You would have killed him! He is an elder of our village!"

Midea's eyes blazed with contempt as he stared Remus down. "I do not negotiate with the weak. In fact , I do not negotiate at all. I make deals , Remus. We had a deal, and you would do well not to violate your side of it. Because I promise you, if you do, I will make you suffer more than any Vampyr ever could."

The venom in Midea's voice was palpable, his words dripping with malice. Even Remus,as powerful as he was, seemed to hesitate before responding.

"Clear out! Take away the injured!" Remus finally commanded, his voice brooking no argument. "MOVE, HATHOR!"

The villagers obeyed, dragging the wounded away from the scene. Even Remus himself stepped back, giving the three of them one last look before leaving.

Midea rushed over to Tanya and the boy, his expression softening with concern. "Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice tense.

"I'm fine," Tanya replied, glancing down at her brother. The boy's eyes were still fixed on Midea, a low growl rumbling in his throat. He was ready to attack.

"Stop it," Tanya said firmly, her voice gentle but commanding. Instantly, the growl ceased, and the boy relaxed in her arms , his savagery completely snuffed out at her word.

Midea chuckled softly, a hint of amazement in his voice. "I suppose between monsters, hierarchy is based on age."

Tanya met the Satyr's eyes, her mind whirling with the enormity of the situation. Then, the name came to her, a name that felt right, that resonated with the essence of the boy in her arms. "Tarak," she said softly.

Midea and the boy both looked at her, curious .

"In the legends of this village, Fenrir was the great wolf, born under the Seven Suns—a hero," Tanya explained, her eyes locking onto Midea's. "But Tarak... Tarak was the beast that chased the first sun," the crimson sun. According to their myth, the other suns were born from it to distract and help seal great Tarak."

"You want to name him after the great evil of their myths?" Midea asked, raising an eyebrow.

Tanya looked down at her brother—the boy who had already shown such incredible power, whose red eyes burned with the spirit of a predator. "Look at his eyes," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "They are the eyes of a hunter through and through. As red as the sun up above."

Midea glanced at the boy, then back at Tanya, a slow wry smile spreading across his face. "Tarak it is, then."