A cold rain poured through the thick canopy of Emberfall Kingdom's outer forests. Among the dripping leaves and muddy path, a lone figure walked slowly—silent, steady, wrapped in a tattered black cloak. His face was mostly hidden, but underneath the hood, his youthful eyes gleamed with a dangerous curiosity.
This was the same boy who had killed the little girl and the priest before the Raro Island meeting. Surprisingly, he was no older than Zaren… but something about him felt far more twisted.
As the rain fell harder, a chilling growl echoed from the shadows. From between the trees, a creature emerged—a monstrous wolf, eyes glowing red, its body dripping black liquid. It had escaped from a broken dungeon gate somewhere nearby. A dungeon break.
The boy stopped and slowly looked up at the beast, unfazed. A smile crept across his lips.
"These creatures... they must have the real right to live," he muttered. "Just like Crimson said."
The wolf roared and lunged, biting deep into his neck.
But the boy didn't resist.
He laughed quietly, blood dripping down.
"Nice… nice. Drink my blood if you want. But in return—"
His eyes turned demonic.
"—you must give me your life."
In an instant, the wolf's head was severed. The boy didn't flinch.
He crouched down and began devouring the creature raw—its flesh torn with his bare hands, his teeth biting through muscle and bone. Rain washed the blood down his chin, but he kept eating, ravenously.
When he finished, he stood up calmly, breathing slow and steady. The forest was silent, the rain falling softly now. Then—
A gasp.
Two soldiers from Emberfall had arrived, their swords trembling in their hands. They had seen everything.
"D-Don't move!" one of them shouted, his voice shaking.
The boy turned to face them, blood still smeared on his hands and mouth.
He smiled.
"Impressive. I didn't even notice you were there."
The soldiers froze. One of them dropped his weapon and threw up right on the ground, the stench of blood overwhelming.
The other soldier yelled, "What the hell are you doing?! He's gonna kill—"
Before he could finish, his head rolled to the ground.
The vomiting soldier barely had time to react before his own head was severed too.
The boy wiped the blood from his lips with his sleeve and whispered,
"Sorry for your… loss of heads. But I've got my own business to handle."
And just like that—he vanished into the mist.
(Chapter 38 Fin)