Thirteen wagons rumbled through the dense forest, their wooden wheels creaking against the uneven dirt path. Two guards flanked each wagon, their eyes darting between the shifting shadows of the towering trees.
Inside one of the wagons, Leon lay sprawled on the seat, sleeping without a care in the world. Across from him, three girls sat in silence, watching him with puzzled expressions.
“This guy is different…” Lilith murmured, her lips curving into an amused smile. “I’ve never seen a man this relaxed around us.”
“He doesn’t know our father,” Dana replied, her expression serious. “That’s why he’s so carefree. Once he finds out, he’ll be just another monkey scrambling to get away from us.”
“Or maybe…” Nina mused, peeking at Leon over the top of her book. “Maybe he’s just brave—someone who doesn’t fear our father.”
Dana scoffed, folding her arms. “No man is brave enough to stand before our father. And a guy like him? I don’t believe it.”
A soft murmur broke the quiet.
“Milfs…” Leon mumbled in his sleep, a perverse grin tugging at his lips.
The three girls exchanged glances.
—
Outside the wagons, two royal guards walked side by side, their armor faintly clinking with each step.
“I’ve heard the number of demonic wolves in these forests is rising,” one guard muttered, scanning the treeline.
“Yeah. The Adventurer’s Guild put a hefty price on their heads,” his partner replied.
“I’ve gone out with my friends a few times, fully prepared, but we never found a single one.”
“Some adventurers went in solo and never came back,” the first guard said, lowering his voice. “I think these wolves are smart. They only come when—”
Swish.
A sharp rustle in the underbrush cut him off. Both guards snapped to attention.
“Did you hear that?” one whispered, hand tightening around the hilt of his sword.
“Something’s not—”
Before he could finish, a massive black wolf lunged from the darkness. Fangs sank deep into his throat, tearing flesh and muscle apart as if it were nothing but paper.
Blood sprayed. A gurgled scream died in his throat. His lifeless body crumpled to the ground.
“DEMONIC WOLVES!” the other guard bellowed, his voice ringing through the night.
Inside the wagon, Leon’s eyes snapped open. He sat up and peered outside—only to be met with the sight of a mangled corpse, crimson blood pooling beneath it.
The moment his gaze locked onto the glistening red, his body went rigid. His breath hitched. His heart pounded, then slowed to a sluggish, unnatural pace.
And then he saw it.
A hulking wolf, its fur black as midnight, its eyes glowing like embers in the dark. It stared directly at him—predatory, intelligent, merciless.
Leon’s world began to fade. His vision blurred, his ears rang with deafening silence. His mind spiraled into panic, his limbs locked in place. Darkness crept at the edges of his consciousness, swallowing him whole.
Then—
[Critical conditions detected.]
[Skill ‘Adaptive Body’ activating.]
[Stabilizing mind.]
[Adjusting eye focus.]
[Force-opening eardrums.]
[Normalizing blood flow.]
[Condition recorded: Panic Attack. Future adaptation will be faster.]
Thirty seconds. That was all it took.
His breathing steadied. His heartbeat returned to normal. His sight cleared. His hearing sharpened.
And just in time.
“HELP ME—!”
SNAP.
A sickening crunch echoed as the second guard’s scream was cut short, his body collapsing beside his fallen comrade.
The demonic wolf lifted its head, blood dripping from its jaws, and turned its glowing red eyes toward its next prey, another pair of Royal Guards that were coming at him from behind.
Leon exhaled, slow and controlled.
“…Skill Crafter,” he whispered.
[Please pick a name for the skill…]
“Adrenaline Rush.”