Thane continued straight toward the summit. The aura there grew increasingly desolate and cold. No wolves dared to appear anymore. There was only a vast black silhouette lying ahead. A gigantic wolf, its breathing ragged, its body already rotting.
The wolf lay upon a massive stone at the very center of the hill, the place that received the greatest concentration of moonlight essence. Yet that energy could only help it barely maintain a physical form that was already collapsing. Terrifying wounds exposed white ribs. From the outside, its internal organs could be seen faintly pulsing. Chunks of writhing flesh struggled to reconnect, only to be torn apart again by the wolf itself.
“At last, I have waited for this day.”
The wolf did not open its mouth. Its intent was transmitted directly into the boy’s mind. Its eyes were calm, brimming with wisdom.
“Who are you?” Thane could vaguely guess the answer, yet he still asked. Perhaps a question was the best way to begin a conversation.
“Me?” The wolf was momentarily surprised. Was everything not already obvious? It seemed to ponder something, remaining silent for a long while before finally speaking again.
“I am merely a coward, a name left behind by an old era, one who fears dying alone.”
Its emotions fluctuated, exposing an opening for the writhing mass of blood and flesh to seize control. Fragments of flesh struggled to heal the wounds on the wolf’s body, while simultaneously assimilating it, turning the wolf into a grotesque and horrifying existence. The wolf let out a howl of agony. Its eyes turned crimson as if it had lost control, saliva dripping from its mouth as it bared its fangs at Thane. The pressure of an Emperor descended, forcing Thane to his knees against his will.
Just as the wolf extended its fangs and claws toward Thane, a sheet of paper suddenly floated up before the boy. The paper radiated a powerful nightmare energy that forced the wolf back. Its creases smoothed out, and the letters dancing upon the page gradually revealed their meaning.
“Vorshade, the Skeleton Emperor”
The paper formed a massive black vortex. Nightmare energy poured out like a raging spring. From within the vortex, a towering figure slowly stepped forward. A skeleton clad in mysterious black armor, with flickering flames burning within its eye sockets. Its presence dispelled the pressure bearing down on Thane, allowing the boy to move freely again. It shifted its bony hand slightly, a Domain spreading out from its body to envelop the surrounding space. At this moment, Vorshade was fully capable of attacking and destroying the wolf. Yet it merely stood there, observing, a trace of hesitation faintly visible.
“Ha ha ha! So you finally came out.”
The wolf roared in delight. Its eyes once more became clear and tranquil. It bit apart its own regenerating body, forcibly reclaiming control. It turned out everything before had merely been an act to lure Vorshade into revealing himself. If it could truly be subdued so easily, it would have turned into a monster long ago.
“Vargan… what has happened to you?”
The flames within Vorshade’s eyes flickered, revealing the complex emotions stirring within him. He could not bear to see his comrade reduced to such a miserable state.
“I have waited for you for a very, very long time, Reddan.”
Vargan choked with emotion. No one knew what it had endured through all these years, or what suffering it had borne. Not a single day passed without it biting into its own flesh to keep itself lucid. It had endured countless extremes of torment, both physical and spiritual. What allowed it to persist was a faint, fragile connection to its master. Vargan could sense that Reddan still existed. Their bond had not yet been severed. It struggled to survive, struggled to wait for this very moment. Even if it was only the faintest shred of hope, it had truly waited until today.
Vargan slowly crawled forward and buried its head against Vorshade. It was no longer the legendary emperor wolf that once struck terror into countless foes. It was merely a loyal dog, yearning for its master’s touch.
“I am sorry, Vargan. I am truly sorry.”
Vorshade gently stroked Vargan’s head. At such close distance, he could clearly see the horrific sight of Vargan’s flesh, writhing like living tentacles. That Vargan had survived until now was nothing short of a miracle. Its body was constantly being assimilated by the Rotting Flesh. It had to actively tear away the assimilated parts again and again. The energy of moonlight was the only thing that allowed it to endure for so long. Judging from Vargan’s current state, it would not last much longer. Soon, it would inevitably transform into a savage and bloodthirsty Bloodhunt fiend.
The power of Yh’raeth was cruel, yet it granted its host abundant vitality. To survive, Vargan had been forced to fuse with the Rotting Flesh. With its remaining strength, it protected the territory of BloodClaw across many generations. Now, everything had finally stabilized. Ossa was no longer engulfed in war. Vargan had fulfilled its final wish. After reuniting with Reddan, it no longer harbored any regrets.
“Please kill me, Reddan,” Vargan whimpered softly.
Vargan begged for release. This reunion was destiny itself. It wanted Reddan to personally bring their story to an end. It was time for legends to return to the dust of history.
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Vorshade nodded gently. Through their bond, he understood a portion of Vargan’s suffering. A massive sword appeared in the skeleton’s hand as he withdrew his Domain. He did not wish for Vargan to endure even a trace more pain.
The blood moon continued to shine brightly in the sky. The sound of howls echoed endlessly across the hilltop. Wolves cried out in deep sorrow and anguish. They knew that their great emperor had died. The stone upon which the emperor once lay was now empty, waiting for the day a worthy one would step forward and raise their own howl.
Thane stood dazed, staring at the scene before him. The presence of these beings made him feel as insignificant as an ant. Thane had once believed himself to be the chosen one. He had enjoyed the reverence shown by the wolves when they parted to let him pass. He had thought himself special. Yet now he realized that all of it had been because of Vorshade. The wolves did not revere him. They revered the one who had once been the mightiest wolf cavalry of BloodClaw.
“Do not be disappointed.”
Vorshade continued to stroke Vargan’s massive body, then turned to comfort Thane.
“It was because of you that we were able to reunite. You are a special boy, Thane. Moreover, Vargan has left you a gift.”
As Vorshade’s words faded, a small wolf cub quietly emerged from the nearby brush. It stared at Thane with timid eyes. The cub’s fur was pitch black, as deep as the night itself. Its eyes shimmered with a crimson glow like a blood moon. Upon its forehead was a small tuft of white fur, curved like a crescent moon.
“This is your mount, Thane. Its name is Hati.”
Hati seemed to understand human speech. It slowly trotted over to Thane and sat down beside him, its round eyes gazing at him with eager anticipation.
“My mount?” Thane exclaimed in delight.
He could sense an enormous latent power within Hati’s body. Even from appearances alone, Hati looked imposing. When it grew up, it would surely become an exceptionally powerful wolf. Thane reached out and placed his hand upon the wolf’s head. At the moment they touched, a mysterious bond seemed to form between them. Thane could now fully understand what Hati was thinking.
“Are you my rider? You seem… rather weak.”
“…” Thane
Vorshade did not return to Thane’s side. His task had come to an end. The protection of Exitus was granted only once. At this moment, Thane officially stepped onto a path of his own. Watching the figures of Thane and Hati gradually fade into the distance, Vorshade nodded in satisfaction. It was exactly like years ago, when he and Vargan had been nothing more than children, filled with ambition and dreams of conquering the world.
“The next time we meet, we may become enemies, boy. Walk steadily on the path you have chosen. Grow strong, because this world has no place for the weak.”
Vorshade’s Domain once again enveloped the entire hilltop. He lifted his massive sword and fixed his gaze upon Vargan’s writhing corpse. Things were never that simple. Yh’raeth was an ancient god who represented blood and rebirth. Vargan’s death was merely the beginning of a new horror, an Emperor level Bloodhunt fiend. Now that Vargan’s restraint was gone, the Rotting Flesh had completely assimilated his corpse.
Writhing flesh tentacles sprouted across the body, healing all its wounds. “Vargan” rose once more, its eyes crimson and filled with madness. Its fur fell away, revealing red flesh veined with throbbing blood vessels, sharp spikes growing along its back. It roared in savage frenzy, blood and saliva dripping from its mouth. Its target was the skeletal figure standing before it.
Only now did the battle truly begin. It was no longer Vargan, and he was no longer Reddan. They were no longer comrades. They had become servants of two opposing gods, slaughtering one another for the sake of their masters.
Within the Abyss, Exitus lay lazily upon his throne as usual, his body inhaling and exhaling endless nightmare energy. Suddenly, he seemed to sense something. The Book of Madenes appeared in his palm and quickly flipped to Vorshade’s page. Black characters danced across the paper as its contents gradually changed.
“Vorshade, the Skeleton Emperor” (0/1) (Soul of Vargan) (0/ 100000) Souls
“The strongest of the Skeleton race, granted a name by the inheritor of the Dark God”
“Oh.”
Exitus smiled with interest. He had not expected that Vorshade’s long hidden condition would unlock on its own. His gaze sank into the page. He wished to witness what was happening beyond Vorshade’s field of vision.
“How interesting,” Exitus murmured, as if he understood everything.
Vargan had been a great wolf, worthy of reverence. Exitus was not particularly worried about Vorshade’s battle, nor did he wish to intervene. Perhaps it was best to let Vorshade personally bring everything to an end.
After Vargan died, his soul was immediately absorbed by the page. Exitus summoned the still dazed wolf soul and offered it a choice. He did not wish to erase its memories. He wanted it to retain its sense of self, just as Vorshade had been created.
The tiny soul of Vargan lay in Exitus’s palm like a small plush beast. It seemed that he could crush it at any moment, yet it felt no fear. Its calm, composed eyes fully displayed the bearing of a legend. It lifted its head high and looked straight at Exitus, waiting.
“My name is Exitus. I will not speak in circles and will go straight to the point. I can crush you right now and transform you into a new self. But I truly admire your life. I will give you a choice, and I will respect that choice.”
“First. You will truly die and disperse. Your memories will vanish, leaving only a soul similar in nature with an entirely new consciousness. Second. You will continue to fight alongside your comrade once more, but in a new capacity, in a new faction. Your story will continue. At the very least, I can promise you this. I will never order you to do anything that goes against your conscience.”
The wolf remained silent for a long time, then let out a long howl.
“Vargan is dead, just as Reddan is. Please grant me a new name.”
Exitus smiled in satisfaction. A truly wise answer.
“Very well. From this moment on, you are no longer Vargan. You will be reborn in a new form, with a new name. From now on, you shall be called Skull.”
“You will return to your body once more after Vorshade destroys that Bloodhunt.”
“Skull. You will not regret this decision. In the future, the legend of you and him will be known throughout all of Veynar.”
After the brutal battle, Vorshade sat atop the corpse of the Bloodhunt after it had been torn free from the Rotting Flesh. In his hand, he grasped the writhing mass of flesh and enveloped it with nightmare energy. The nightmare power burrowed deep into the flesh, causing white smoke to rise from it. The authority of Madenes might be insignificant compared to Yh’raeth, but this was only a small fragment of flesh severed from the main body. The piece of flesh shrank, then gradually vanished.
At that very moment, the floating page behind Vorshade’s back released a small point of light. That light was none other than Skull. It swiftly flew back toward its body. The blood and flesh on the old body disintegrated, leaving behind only a skeletal frame. Nightmare energy wrapped around the bones, and then, from within the empty eye sockets, two flickering flames burst to life.
In a distant and undefined place within the First Place, a colossal entity drifted through space like a massive lump of flesh. Its body was densely packed with veins and writhing blood and meat, countless eyes, noses, and mouths spread across its surface. Nearby Shadows were devoured and assimilated into its body. During their resistance, a few small chunks of flesh would occasionally fall away, but such losses were utterly insignificant compared to its overwhelmingly vast form. To it, the entire continent of Veynar was likely no more than a single pustule.
It was Yh’raeth, the ancient god representing blood and rebirth, a great Shadow of the Abstract One. It drifted aimlessly, without clear purpose, and perhaps did not even realize that one of its fragments of flesh had just been destroyed.