The stars shimmered above the dark canopy of the forest, casting silvery light across the village of monsters. After a hearty feast that brought laughter, music, and dance, Varvatos, ever calm and contemplative, stepped away from the liveliness for a quiet walk beneath the moonlit sky.
His cloak gently fluttered behind him as he strolled through the paths, boots making only the faintest crunch against the grass. To the others, he was just a peaceful presence tonight. His aura was completely suppressed, no trace of his true power, no ripple of divinity or magic. A simple man in appearance… but the forest trembled in ignorance.
As he neared the edge of the village, his sharp senses picked up something—the distant, low howl of wolves echoing through the trees. But it wasn't a lone call. It was structured. Repetitive. Communicative.
He paused and narrowed his eyes.
A gathering…?
Closing his eyes, Varvatos extended his perception across the surrounding wilderness like a gentle wave of wind. Within seconds, he found them—a pack of over forty wolves, gathered in a circular formation in a clearing not far off. Their presence wasn't random. Their leader stood in the center, exuding aggression and dominance.
Without so much as a shimmer of light, Varvatos vanished from the path.
In the forest clearing...
The wolves were tense, growling softly in unison as their leader, a towering beast with spiked silver fur and crimson eyes, addressed them.
"Tonight, we strike," the wolf leader growled. "That goblin village has grown fat and soft behind their new walls. We will devour them, take their territory, and make the forest remember who rules the night!"
A chorus of snarls and howls followed.
Then, a voice—calm, regal, and ice-cold—spoke from behind the wolf leader.
"I advise against such foolishness."
The air froze.
Every head snapped toward the voice, including the leader's. No one had seen or smelled or sensed anything until that moment.
Standing just a few steps behind the alpha wolf was a man, cloak drifting in the night wind, eyes glowing faintly with sapphire calmness.
Varvatos met the wolf leader's gaze without fear, his arms behind his back like he was merely out for a peaceful walk.
"That village you're planning to attack… is mine," he said plainly. "Those goblins are my subordinates. Hurting them… would be hurting me."
The leader bared his fangs, recovering from the initial shock. "Who are you, human?" he growled. "This forest is not yours!"
"I am Varvatos," he replied, his voice still serene. "And I rule the village that stands behind those walls. I'd suggest you think very carefully before trying to make an enemy of me."
The wolves growled, tension thickening.
Then, in a blur of motion, the wolf leader lunged, jaws wide, intending to crush Varvatos in a single bite.
But he never even got close.
Varvatos didn't flinch. He didn't even blink.
He raised a single finger—and the wolf froze mid-air.
Literally.
Suspended in the air like a puppet with its strings cut, the alpha wolf thrashed uselessly, his limbs paralyzed, his magic nullified. The other wolves recoiled in alarm, eyes wide with fear.
Their leader… the strongest among them… had been stopped with nothing but a gesture.
Varvatos walked forward slowly, stopping just beneath the immobilized alpha.
"I admire your courage," he said. "Loyalty to your pack, strength to lead them… I won't deny you have potential. And tonight, I'm in a good mood."
He turned and addressed the entire pack, his voice echoing with authority—not loud, but resonant with command.
"I could end this here. Bury this entire clearing and erase your presence from this forest. But instead… I offer you a place in my future. I am building something in this land. A kingdom. A sanctuary for monsters of all kinds. Those willing to work, to grow, to thrive—not through fear, but through unity and strength."
The wolves shifted uncomfortably, looking between each other. They had never felt such pressure before… and yet, the offer in Varvatos' words stirred something ancient in them. Hope.
He lowered his hand, and the alpha slowly dropped to the ground, panting, his body trembling as he regained control.
"I won't ask again," Varvatos said, looking directly into the leader's eyes. "Will you fight me… or join me?"
The alpha stared at him, eyes wide with a thousand thoughts racing behind them.
Finally, he lowered his head.
"…I yield," he said, voice low and honest. "If you are truly the one protecting that village… then we were wrong to see it as weak. We will follow you."
The rest of the wolves slowly dropped their heads too.
The moon hung high above the forest canopy, bathing the earth in silver, as the quiet stillness following Varvatos' command settled over the wolf pack. The once-hostile creatures now stood silently, reverently, in awe of the man who subdued their alpha with the flick of a finger—and then offered him mercy.
The former alpha, still catching his breath, looked up at the towering figure before him. His body was sore, his pride shaken—but something within him had shifted. Not out of fear, but out of respect.
Varvatos stepped closer, eyes calm and penetrating. Then, with a voice that carried the weight of ancient power and authority, he declared, "From this day forward, you shall be known as… Ranga."
The moment the words left his lips, something happened.
A rush of magicule exploded from within the wolf leader's core—no, not just mana. It was deeper. It was divine authority, recognition of the soul. His entire body began to glow, threads of brilliant blue light enveloping him. His muscles rippled and expanded, his fur darkened into a sleek, obsidian black that shimmered with faint starlight. His eyes turned sapphire, gleaming with newfound intelligence. And then, from the center of his forehead, a single curved horn grew outward—radiating raw, condensed magical energy.
The transformation was not painful, but transcendent.
Ranga roared—not in rage, but in awakening.
But it didn't end there.
Varvatos watched, eyes narrowing in mild surprise, as the other wolves—each and every one of them—began to glow as well.
Their bodies trembled, surrounded by that same divine light. One by one, they were lifted off the ground slightly, as if weightless. Their forms changed—some grew larger, others sleeker and faster-looking, all of them more intelligent, refined. Their fur took on hues of midnight and steel. Their claws became sharper, their eyes more focused.
When the light faded, the clearing was filled not with ordinary wolves, but a pack of evolved magical beasts, each now radiating an aura far greater than before.
Varvatos raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk touching the corner of his lips. "Curious… I only named one of you."
Ranga, now standing tall and regal with his head slightly bowed, stepped forward. His voice, deeper and more resonant, carried a dignity that had not been there before. "Because, my lord… we are a pack. We move as one. We feel as one. When one is uplifted, so are we all."
Varvatos looked at the others—all kneeling low, heads to the earth.
"We are yours, Master Varvatos," they spoke in unison, their voices harmonizing like a ritual chant. "Until the end of time, our lives are yours to command."
Silence followed, but not empty. It was profound—a silence filled with purpose, rebirth, and unspoken vows.
The forest, too, seemed to acknowledge the shift in power, rustling gently as if whispering praise. An ancient pact had been forged beneath the moonlight.
Varvatos, still calm and composed, gave a small nod. "Very well. You are now part of my family. Return with me… and we shall begin building a future worth protecting."
Ranga stepped beside him, towering but humble. His pack fell in line behind, their steps soft yet synchronized, like a single heartbeat echoing through the trees.
As they walked toward the village under the stars, Ranga glanced once more at Varvatos. Though he didn't speak, his eyes said everything: gratitude, devotion, and a spark of hope.
And for the first time in many years, Ranga felt something unfamiliar—pride not in strength, but in purpose.