Chapter 4-Bloodfang Wolves
As Ren was still thinking, suddenly, a sharp rustle from the dense foliage made Ren freeze. Without thinking, he reached out and clutched the heavy fabric of the cloak, his fingers digging into it as if it were an oasis in the desert.
Before they could exchange a word, low, menacing growls began to echo through the trees. Shadows shifted, and within moments, a pack of Bloodfang Wolves emerged from the forest. Their eyes glowed with a predatory hunger as they circled closer, each silent step on the leaf-strewn ground punctuating the tension in the air.
The wolves—Bloodfang Wolves—were fearsome apex predators, lurking in deep forests and striking terror into those who crossed their path. Standing up to five feet tall at the shoulder, with Alphas reaching the size of warhorses, they moved like shadows, their jet-black fur blending seamlessly into the darkness, marked only by eerie scarlet streaks that pulsed when enraged. Their glowing crimson eyes pierced through the night, while their bloodstained fangs dripped with a corrosive saliva that prevented wounds from clotting, ensuring the prey weakened over time. Armed with razor-sharp claws that could tear through bone and wood, and thick, muscular tails for balance and agility, Bloodfangs were built for both speed and brutality. They hunted in coordinated packs, ambushing prey with ruthless precision, while the Alpha's howl sent shockwaves through the air, disorienting victims before the kill. Some claimed they were not natural beasts, but cursed entities born from the blood of fallen warriors, and legends spoke of those who consumed their hearts gaining a fraction of their terrifying power—though few lived to confirm the tale.
The cloaked man turned slowly toward the approaching pack, his face set in a determined calm. "Stay close," he said softly, his voice steady despite the danger surrounding them. Ren tightened his grip on the cloak, pressing himself even closer to the man, his knuckles white with fear.
The wolves formed a loose circle around them, their growls rising in intensity with every deliberate step. In that charged moment, the cloaked man raised a hand. An almost palpable aura seemed to emanate from him, and the wolves hesitated, as if the very air had shifted. Ren held his breath, clinging tightly to the cloak and silently praying that this enigmatic guardian would keep them both safe from the wild threat that had suddenly appeared.
Ren's heart pounded as the pack of wolves closed in, their eyes glinting with a dangerous hunger. The cloaked man paused, his gaze steady on the encircling beasts. Then, with a groan, a silver glow radiated from him. The light grew rapidly, filling the clearing with an almost palpable heat, until, with a fierce exhalation, he released his blood force.
The Bloodfangs' snarls turned to panicked yelps as they scrambled to escape, scattering into the deep depths of the forest. Ren, with his mouth open wide in awe, watched as the vicious beasts—ones that no one in his village would dare confront—scrambled in front of the cloaked man. He looked at the cloaked man in surprise, amazement, and fear. He wondered if he could ever be as strong as the cloaked man.