Chapter 18 - Desperation

The Alpha's howl echoed like a war horn—long, piercing, commanding.

It wasn't just a cry. It was a decree.

A king summoning his horde.

Sid's instincts flared.

Kill the king now.

He charged.

With no hesitation, he closed the distance between them, blade raised for a clean execution. But the Alpha was no ordinary beast. Its eyes gleamed with awareness—as if it saw through Sid's intent.

Just as Sid swung his right arm for the fatal strike, the Alpha moved. Fast.

A blur of muscle and instinct.

Its jaws clamped down hard—right on Sid's sword arm.

The pain was immediate and brutal. Bone cracked. Flesh split. Blood sprayed.

Sid didn't scream. He let go.

The sword dropped, spinning in the air.

His left hand caught it.

With a seamless pivot, he twisted his body and brought the blade across in one final, clean sweep—

—and the Alpha's head flew.

The towering beast dropped.

Sid stumbled back, panting heavily, right arm limp and dripping crimson. He didn't wait. He dropped low, plunged his left hand into the beast's chest, pulled out the glowing life core, and slipped it into his spatial ring in one smooth motion.

He straightened quickly, falling into a defensive stance.

Nine wolves remained—circling, snarling, eyes blazing with vengeance.

But then, the forest responded.

The earth began to tremble.

The wind stirred violently.

And through the trees, they came—wolves, dozens upon dozens, pouring out like a black tide, answering the Alpha's call even in death.

Sid's heart pounded as reality set in. He wasn't ahead of them at all.

He thought slaying the Alpha before the others arrived would prevent being trapped.

But he was wrong.

They had caught up. All of them.

Within moments, the clearing was surrounded. Hundreds of them—baring fangs and murder.

Sid clenched his jaw, forcing his trembling body to move.

There was no time for fear.

He exploded forward, using every shred of strength left in him to break through the closing circle. His blade sang in the air, slashing through snarling muzzles and leaping forms. Each movement precise, ruthless, born of desperation.

His right arm hung limp by his side, but his left burned with purpose.

One, two—five, ten—he couldn't count how many times his blade met flesh.

He wasn't fighting to win. He was fighting to survive.

Blood splattered. Cuts deepened. His body moved on instinct alone.

But they kept coming.

He stumbled. Nearly fell.

Then, beyond the snarling chaos—

A glimpse.

A clearing.

A drop.

A cliff.

And far below, a river.

Wide. Rushing. 

Hope.

Sid made a split-second decision. He pivoted, ignoring the pain tearing through his side, and fought his way toward the edge. The wolves behind him surged in fury, refusing to let him escape.

But he pushed.

He ran.

And just as the jaws of death snapped inches from his back—

He jumped.

Wind roared past him. The sky spun. Pain screamed in his wounded arm.

And then—

Impact.

The river swallowed him whole.

Darkness. Cold. Silence.

The wolves could chase him across the forest.

But not here.

Not in the depths.

Sid let himself sink for a moment, blood dissolving into the current, before forcing his body to rise.

He was alive.

Barely.

But alive.