Chapter 42: I Must Consume The Wolf

Chapter 42: I Must Consume The Wolf There was no way he could change what the power desired, not when this was what it truly wanted. It always came with risk—because when it stirred, it wasn’t just power. It was hunger. A will of its own. He grit his teeth, tightening his grip on the branch he stood upon, trying to suppress the rising surge inside. But the wolf’s energy—so close to his own—it called to him, almost like a familiar song echoing from some buried part of him. "Aramith?" Mozrael’s voice came gently. He didn’t answer. His glowing purple eyes flickered violently, and dark wisps curled from his arms like smoke from a waking fire. The wolf below roared again, this time far more monstrous than before. Though the sound was muffled, and vision was distorted due to the darkness, he could tell Its body had grown—not just in size, but in darkness. Its black fur shimmered unnaturally, and its limbs cracked and shifted, becoming more beastly, more corrupted. Mozrael clutched her scarf. "what’s going on...?" She looked around but could see nothing. None of the others could also be seen Aramith’s heart pounded. That wolf—it was becoming something... like him. Lynnor wasn’t fazed. "Now we’re talking," she grinned, even as the wolf’s body twisted in disturbing ways. "Come on then, flower-thief—let’s see what you can really do." Though her vision was impaired, she could sense the animal’s presence. Aramith could feel the beast still evolving. It wasn’t a wolf anymore, but still... Evolving into what? Aramith wasn’t sure. But one thing he was sure of—the energy inside him recognized the wolf’s change. It was reacting to him, or maybe... to what he could become. Mozrael, lost in the darkness wanted to find Aramith, help him calm down- if possible, but... Too late. The moment the wolf turned its crimson gaze toward him, the darkness in Aramith surged—and his body moved. In a blur, he dropped from the tree. A wave of shadow burst from beneath him as his feet hit the ground. A sword formed in his hand, crackling with black energy, as the wolf snarled, finally recognizing him not as a bystander... but a rival. Or a threat. Or kin. Mozrael blinked, panic rising. Her body... it wouldn’t move. Her fingers felt numb, her breathing shallow. Something was wrapping around her, not physically, but like shadows curling around her very being. Darkness. She wanted to deny it, but she knew. This... this is Aramith’s doing. It has to be. That same haunting pulse, that chilling familiarity—it gnawed at her soul. But why now? Why would his darkness be reacting like this? What if they realize?The thought stabbed through her. What if they realize it’s him—what he’s capable of? Would they run? Would they see him as a monster? Her chest clenched tighter than before, and yet no tears could fall. Her body wouldn’t even allow that. Jade trembled, her back pressed against the trunk of the tree. "Lynnor?" she tried again, but her words dripped into silence. Her limbs were heavy, as if invisible weights had latched on. Her mind raced. This isn’t normal. This isn’t like when I panic... this is—something else. Her eyes fell on the faint outline of the wolf, still standing there, no longer lunging, no longer snarling. Just... staring. Cold and calculating, then it turned to another direction, dissapering. Jade’s heartbeat thundered in her ears. Is it the wolf? Or... is something else watching us? Lynnor said the beast wasn’t powerful, so how? Lynnor, grounded and defiant, had frozen mid-step. Her grin had faded the moment the atmosphere changed. Her body refused to obey, her muscles tightening and locking in place like she’d been caught in a spell. Tch... what is this? she thought, eyes narrowing. Her instincts screamed danger—not just because she couldn’t move, but because of the timing. Did I miscalculate? I thought I had the upper hand. Was this wolf just pretending to be scared? Lulling us in? Her breathing slowed. No... this is too deliberate. It’s not just pressure—this is suppression. Her mind darted through possibilities. It could be preparing for a full-scale assault. Or it’s stalling to escape. Worst-case scenario, it was powerful enough to possess one of them. Either way... her teeth clenched, ...if I misjudged its nature, we’re all in serious trouble. The silence was broken—not by a sound, but by a sensation. A hum. Low, dark, and resonant. It rippled through the ground, through their bones. It was familiar to only one of them. And then— Aramith opened his eyes. The world around him had dulled. He hadn’t moved from his perch, but the darkness... it slithered around his form like a living veil, spreading with every breath he took. His eyes, glowing a deeper shade of violet now, pierced through the shadows. His face remained calm, almost emotionless—but inside, something had stirred, like a fire waking from its slumber. Without hesitation, Aramith summoned his sword. As he swung it toward the wolf, the blade grew—tendrils spiraling from its tip, reaching out with a hunger of their own. They lashed at the beast, pulling it into a suffocating grip. The wolf’s body jerked violently, the tendrils wrapping around its fur, tightening with relentless force. The wolf’s once majestic howl was quickly replaced with guttural, frantic growls. It thrashed, its massive form writhing under the dark coils that sought to consume it. Claws scraped uselessly against the air, teeth snapping wildly at the nothingness around it. Its eyes, a piercing crimson, flickered, burning with a defiant resistance, but it was powerless. Every movement of the wolf only fueled the encroaching darkness. Its very being seemed to tear apart as the tendrils pulled tighter, unraveling it, piece by piece, turning it into swirling shadows. As the wolf was torn apart, darkness spread out more. It clung to everything, thickening the air, further distorting the reality around them. The others could feel the oppressive weight of the darkness intensifying, as if the very air around them was bending, crushing their senses. Their minds would struggle to make sense of what was happening, disoriented by the suffocating pressure. The wolf fought to the very end, but as the last remnants of its form were consumed by the tendrils, the darkness surged outward in one final, forceful burst. Aramith’s grip on the sword faltered as the beast’s essence shot into him. His body trembled, thrown off balance by the sudden surge of dark energy. It tore through him like an inferno, an excruciating force that felt like his very soul was being pulled apart, piece by piece. The dark power forced itself upon him, slithering into his veins, twisting and writhing as it merged with his own essence. He gasped, struggling to hold on to his sanity as the beast’s power flooded him, his body becoming a battleground for control. The rush was overwhelming, the darkness pressing against his thoughts, his body—a force so crushing that he could barely breathe, let alone move. It felt intentional, calculated. The beast wasn’t just merging with him; it was trying to break him. What he couldn’t understand was the faint consciousness he could sense within the darkness. The beast was supposed to just turn into energy but what was this feeling of it being alive?? He fought against it, trying to consume it but the beast kept evading him. It was being absorbed, but anytime he cornered its consciousness to absorb it, it moved away. The darkness was dissipating and he hadn’t finished absorbing the beast. If he didn’t do something about it, they’ll connect the dots and know all he did. He pushed himself, forcing the process to speed up. The suffocating black mist that had blanketed the battlefield thinned, unraveling like dissipating smoke. A faint breeze stirred the unsettled air, revealing scattered footprints, torn earth, and the faint echoes of a struggle that seemed unreal. Mozrael’s breath came shallow as she strained to see through the last wisps of darkness. The wolf was gone. Completely. Not a trace of blood, no torn remains—nothing. But the remnants of its power swirled violently inside Aramith, twisting and merging with his own. It wasn’t as intense, but he could feel it strongly. Aramith blinked, his expression shifting as he took a slow step forward, feigning confusion. He turned toward the others, eyes darting around as if searching for something. "...Where’s the wolf?" His voice carried a perfect blend of uncertainty and expectation, like someone who had lost track of the fight in the chaos. He furrowed his brow as if piecing together the situation just as they were. He had to pretend. To survive. Lynnor swore under his breath, scanning the clearing. "Damn thing just—vanished. What the hell happened?" "The wolf ran away?" Jade spoke carefully. Lynnor clenched a fist "Tch! That stupid overgrown dog stole my flower. I swear I’ll find it." she gesticulated what she’d do to it if it were found, though inwardly relieved the wolf just escaped. Aramith shuddered inward. If only she knew... "Let’s head back. The fun is gone," Lynnor waved