Chapter 49: Their wish, Your Death (2)

Chapter 49

Right now, Calack would have looked terrifyingly cool. Maybe even badass.

That was if he was not soaked in blood.

His own blood.

That fact alone twisted the image into something far worse. Far more frightening.

Selene was frozen, eyes locked on him, heart pounding. His stance was steady. His words were calm. Too calm. She wanted to believe that confidence meant victory.

Rayden did not.

Rayden believed his human father was seconds away from becoming food for the crazy black wolf.

The dark wolf growled, low and deep. It felt it. Something had changed in the human it was fighting.

Calack raised his swords.

He was not a master swordsman. Not even close. But he was a sword enthusiast, a forger, someone who lived around blades. He had picked up techniques here and there, crude but practical. And most of what he knew was built for one thing.

Killing beasts.

This was not the moment for arrogance. He did not have that luxury. Pain flooded his body, numb and burning at the same time. He shut his eyes and forced his mind clear.

It worked. Barely.

When he opened them again, there was more confidence in his gaze. The short swords in his grip seemed sharper, keener, as if they could cut through the air itself.

That was not imagination.

Calack pushed the little qi he had into the blades. It was not much, but it was enough. Enough to harden the edge. Enough to make every strike more lethal.

Every bit of killing power mattered.

The wolf sensed it.

The danger pressed closer.

Unwilling to give its prey another breath, the wolf lunged.

Calack lunged too.

They crashed together. Fang against steel. Flash against fur.

The difference showed itself quickly.

Calack was doing better.

He was holding his ground.

At least it looked that way.

Rayden saw the truth.

For every clean slash Calack landed, the wolf answered with three brutal strikes. Each exchange tore more flesh from him. Blood sprayed. Bones screamed.

Still, Calack pushed forward.

Like a dying man fighting a god.

The damage on the wolf piled up. Cuts crossed its body. Blood darkened its fur.

Then someone went flying.

Again.

It was Calack.

He slammed into the ground harder than before, body twisting, breath tearing out of him. He did not get back up.

Selene covered her mouth, tears spilling freely. Her chest hurt. Her legs shook.

She hated herself.

Why was she so weak.

Rayden closed his eyes.

The little boy whispered a prayer, already preparing for the worst.

In this world, power ruled. No tricks. No resolve. No miracles. None of it mattered before overwhelming strength.

The dark wolf stepped forward.

Blood matted its fur. One eye was gone, torn out at some point in the fight. It did not care.

It only wanted one thing.

To kill the human.

Calack was dangerous. Annoyingly so. The wolf could feel it deep in its bones.

That was why he had to die.

The wolf raised its head.

And bared its fangs.

Calack was groaning, dragging himself up from where his body had crashed into the dirt.

The wolf stood over him.

Eyes cold. Jaw open. One final strike waiting to happen.

It leapt.

A killing swipe. Aimed clean. Certain.

Then something went wrong.

The wolf jerked midair.

A violent shudder ripped through its body, followed by a sharp, brutal pain that tore straight through its heart. The shock hit fast. The pain hit faster. The beast let out a howl, long and broken, the sound thinning as its strength drained away.

The wolf collapsed hard onto the ground.

Dead.

Still lying on the forest floor, Calack’s arm was buried deep in the wolf’s chest. His hand had gone straight through flesh and bone, straight through the heart.

He smiled.

“I told you,” he muttered, breath ragged. “If those two want you dead… then you should just die.”

He twisted his arm free. The body hit the dirt again, heavy and final.

The victory was not just strength. Not just will.

It was risk.

From the start of the fight, Calack had focused every attack around the chest. Again and again. Ignoring safer strikes. Letting himself take damage just to keep hammering the same spot. Breaking it down. Weakening it. Exposing it.

All of it was preparation.

For this moment.

He struck first. Fast. Hard.

Before the wolf could claim his life.

That was how he won.

Calack exhaled, shaky but real. He did it. Brutal, yes. But he had killed a powerful beast.

Selene didn’t waste a second. The moment she saw the wolf fall, she rushed down to him.

He was hurt. Badly.

Blood soaked his clothes. The wounds were deep, dangerous. Untreated, they could kill him.

“Let me,” she said, hands already moving.

“No.” Calack forced himself upright, teeth clenched. “Not here.”

He scanned the forest, alert despite the pain.

“That howl,” he said quietly. “It will draw more wolves. Maybe worse. We leave. Now. Back to the abode.”

Selene hesitated. Of course she did. She knew how serious his injuries were.

Calack smiled at her anyway.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t die. Not yet.”

He turned his head.

“Right, Rayden?”

Rayden, strapped to Selene’s back, looked at him and raised a small thumb.

Calack laughed softly.

The little man had earned his respect. Small or not, he had earned it.

Calack’s smile lingered. His son would grow strong. Of that, he was certain.

“Let’s go,” he said, walking forward like he wasn’t half a corpse already.

The trio disappeared into the forest.

They were lucky. Selene knew the woods well. She moved through paths that beasts rarely touched. Quiet routes. Safe routes. That knowledge made the journey easier than it had any right to be.

Soon, the abode came into view.

Inside, Selene cleaned and wrapped Calack’s wounds. She wasn’t an expert, but she knew enough. Enough to keep him alive.

Bandaged and exhausted, Calack looked at them both one last time.

He smiled.

Then he slept.

Selene stared at her bloodstained hands, worry written plain in her eyes.

Rayden watched in silence.

His worry was different.

If this human father died, survival would become far harder. Far uglier.

That was something he refused to accept.

Not now.

Not at this critical moment.

Whether it was Rayden’s will, Selene’s prayers, or sheer stubborn fate, Calack survived.

Weeks passed.

He did not return to his peak, but he came back stronger than he should have. Stronger than a man with those wounds had any right to be.

Life in the forest continued. The truth sat heavy over them. They were no longer safe.

Yet somehow, nothing really changed.

Calack fought almost every day. To protect his family. To hunt for meat. Sometimes just to keep the forest from swallowing him whole. He bled more than once. In more than one fight, he came back broken.

And every time he recovered, something in him sharpened.

His instincts grew honed. His blade followed his thoughts. His killing style adapted, twisted, learned. Without realizing it, the family crossed a line.

They were no longer prey.

They were hunters.

That did not mean the danger was gone. It only meant it came slower. Smarter. In different forms.

The forest never rested. The danger never stop coming.

Then one morning, Rayden woke up unable to move.

Something was squeezing him tight.

Sleep burned out of his eyes as panic rushed in. He looked down at his body.

His instincts screamed.

Wrapped around him was not a vine.

It was a snake.

Thick. Heavy. Its body coiled around his small frame, tightening slowly, patiently. The massive head hung above him, tongue flicking, eyes locked on his.

Ready to swallow him whole.

“Goddamn it,” Rayden cursed under his breath.

Is this really how a baby was supposed to live?

The snake’s coils tightened.

TO BE CONTINUED.

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