Chapter 12

James didn't hesitate. He loosed the arrow mid-breath, aiming not at where the Shade Wolf stood, but at where it would move next.

The projectile zipped through the air, cutting toward the wolf's predicted path. But the beast was quick—its body twisted, reacting faster than expected. The arrow grazed its side, leaving a shallow wound but failing to land a direct hit.

The wolf landed, claws digging into the earth, its piercing violet eyes narrowing. It had recognized the attempt—understood that James wasn't just firing blindly but trying to anticipate its movements.

A dangerous realization.

The Shade Wolf growled, shifting its stance, its body lowering slightly—readying for something different. It wasn't going to lunge recklessly again. No, now it was learning. Adapting.

James tightened his grip on his bow, watching its movements carefully. The fight had changed. The wolf wasn't just a mindless predator—it was a hunter, just like him. And it was preparing for a counterattack.

James adjusted his grip, exhaling steadily as he focused on the Shade Wolf's stance. It wasn't attacking recklessly anymore—it was watching him, waiting for the right moment to strike. He had to act first.

Instead of aiming at the beast directly, he shifted his focus to the terrain. The forest floor was uneven, scattered with roots and loose dirt—if he could force it into an unstable position, even briefly, he'd gain the advantage.

He loosed another arrow, this time aiming for the ground near the wolf's front paws.

The projectile struck with force, kicking up dirt and debris. The Shade Wolf reacted instantly, leaping sideways to avoid the disturbance—but that moment of hesitation was all James needed.

He followed up without pause, loosing a second arrow aimed directly at the beast's exposed flank.

The arrow flew, cutting through the air in a deadly arc—but the Shade Wolf was already moving.

Its muscles coiled, shifting at the last possible moment, and the projectile barely grazed its side instead of landing a deep hit. The beast didn't flinch this time. It had adjusted, learned his tactics, and now it was fully prepared to retaliate.

With a growl that resonated through the clearing, the wolf surged forward, faster than before. James barely had time to react, throwing himself to the side as claws raked the space he had occupied just seconds ago. He hit the ground hard, rolling into a crouch, his heartbeat hammering against his ribs.

The Shade Wolf didn't give him a moment to recover.

It was relentless now, darting between the trees, using the environment as expertly as he had. The flickering shadows made it difficult to track, forcing James to rely on his instincts rather than his eyes.

He nocked another arrow, breathing deep, his mind racing through possibilities. 'If he couldn't outmatch its speed, he had to control its movement'.

James scanned the terrain, searching for a way to control the Shade Wolf's movements. He needed to funnel it, force it into a disadvantage.

His eyes settled on a gnarled cluster of roots and a fallen log—tight spaces where the wolf's speed could be hindered. If he could get it to commit to an attack there, he'd have the opening he needed.

With measured movements, he darted toward the area, making sure the wolf noticed.

As expected, the beast reacted instantly, chasing him through the foliage, its violet eyes locked onto him with unwavering focus. James pushed forward, guiding it closer and closer to the narrow section of forest.

Then, just as the wolf lunged again, he pivoted sharply—throwing himself sideways at the last second.

The Shade Wolf adjusted mid-leap, but it was too late. Its momentum carried it forward, right into the tangled mess of exposed roots. Its paws stumbled, claws scraping against the uneven surface, forcing it to slow.

James didn't waste the opportunity. He was already drawing his next arrow, lining up the perfect shot.

James released the arrow, his aim precise, his timing perfect.

The projectile flew straight into the Shade Wolf's exposed flank, piercing deep into muscle. The beast let out a sharp, guttural snarl, its body recoiling as pain surged through it. It stumbled, forced further into the tangled roots, its movements sluggish as its wounded leg struggled to bear its weight.

James didn't allow hesitation to creep in—this was his moment.

He quickly nocked another arrow, adjusting his angle, preparing to strike again before the beast could recover. Its violet eyes flickered with defiance, but the damage had been done. The Shade Wolf had been thrown off balance, and now, the battle was in his favor.

James steadied himself, rolling his shoulders as he prepared for one last exchange. His breath was steady, his grip firm around his bow—but his body was wearing down. The fight had taken its toll.

The Shade Wolf was wounded, struggling to regain control, but it refused to fall easily. Its violet eyes burned with defiance, muscles coiled for one final surge of strength.

The beast lunged.

James pivoted sharply, firing another arrow mid-movement. The projectile struck true, embedding itself in the wolf's other shoulder—but the creature was too close now. It slammed into him with raw force, sending him staggering back.

Pain flared in his ribs, but he didn't falter. He twisted out of its immediate reach, nocking yet another arrow as he felt the strain settle in his muscles. He had to end this, and he had to do it now.

The Shade Wolf panted, blood staining its obsidian fur. It was slowing—but so was he.

A battle of endurance. A final moment to decide the victor.

James steadied his breath, his focus narrowing to a razor's edge. The Shade Wolf lunged again, its movements slower but no less dangerous. This was it—the moment to end the fight.

As the beast closed the distance, James shifted his stance, drawing his bowstring back with every ounce of strength he had left. Time seemed to slow, the world narrowing to the wolf's charging form and the arrow poised to strike.

He released.

The arrow flew true, striking the Shade Wolf squarely in its chest. The beast let out a final, guttural snarl as the force of the impact drove it back, its legs faltering beneath it. It collapsed into the tangled roots, its body stilling as the fight drained from its form.

James stood there, bow still raised, his chest heaving as the adrenaline coursed through him. The forest was silent once more, the tension dissipating like mist in the morning sun.

He lowered his weapon, exhaustion settling in as he approached the fallen wolf. It had been a worthy opponent, a true test of his newfound strength. But now, it was over.

James knelt beside the fallen Shade Wolf, steadying his breath as he assessed its body. The fight had been brutal, pushing him to his limits—but now, it was time to collect the spoils.

He reached for his dagger, carefully cutting through the thick, obsidian fur to harvest useful materials. The pelt was tough, its natural resistance to damage making it valuable for crafting reinforced armor or cloaks. He worked methodically, ensuring he could salvage the best portions.

Next, he focused on the claws—sharp, curved, ideal for use in weapons or alchemical enhancements. They had scraped against his bow during the fight, leaving faint marks. The strength they carried was undeniable.

Finally, the most important prize—the core.

Shade Wolves weren't known for their magical properties, but at their peak, they developed condensed energy within their bodies. James carefully sliced into the creature's chest, feeling the resistance of hardened muscle before his fingers brushed against something smooth and firm.

He pulled the core free—a dark, faintly glowing orb pulsing with residual energy.

James held the Shade Wolf's core for a moment, feeling the faint pulse of energy within it. Absorbing it now was an option, but he knew better than to rush the process without preparation. He slid it carefully into a secure pouch, ensuring it was protected—he'd sell it to the mission hall later, where it would fetch a solid price.

With his materials harvested, he took a final glance at the fallen beast. A peak low-rank Shade Wolf—it had put up a fight, pushed him to his limits, but in the end, he had come out victorious. The battle had been more than just a test of strength—it was proof that his recent growth wasn't just in numbers, but in skill.

Stretching out his sore muscles, James scanned the forest around him. The sun had shifted slightly, indicating he had spent longer on the hunt than planned. He still had herbs to collect, and the mission hall wouldn't stay open forever.

With the Shade Wolf dealt with and its materials secured, James took a deep breath, shaking off the lingering tension of battle. His muscles ached, but the fight had reinforced his growth—his body was stronger, faster, more capable.

Now, it was time to focus on the second half of his mission.

He adjusted his pack and moved deeper into the forest, keeping his senses sharp. The herbs he needed for basic recovery potions were common in these parts, growing in shaded areas beneath thick tree cover. As he walked, he scanned the terrain, searching for distinct clusters of broad-leafed plants and delicate, faintly glowing stems.

After a few minutes, he spotted the first patch. Kneeling down, he carefully picked each herb, ensuring he didn't damage their potency. The mission hall had strict requirements, and any crushed or contaminated samples would be rejected.

The forest remained quiet, the earlier battle leaving an eerie stillness in its wake. James worked efficiently, gathering what he needed while keeping an eye on his surroundings—after all, just because he had won one fight didn't mean the danger was over.

As James made his way back toward the village, the forest remained calm, the midday sun filtering through the leaves in golden streaks. The tension from the battle had faded, replaced by the satisfaction of completing his tasks.

But just as he reached the outskirts of the dense woods, something caught his attention.

A scent—sharp, metallic.

Blood.

James slowed his steps, scanning the nearby foliage. The smell wasn't strong, but it was fresh. Something had been wounded nearby.

He crouched, eyes narrowing as he spotted a faint trail—a few drops of crimson staining the dirt, leading off toward a thicker part of the forest. Whatever had passed through here was injured, but there were no signs of a struggle.

An injured beast? A careless hunter? Or something else entirely?

James had a choice—follow the trail and investigate, or ignore it and continue toward the mission hall.