Kael's claws scraped the stone floor of the labyrinth. Blood coated his tongue, bitter and sharp.
This... might be it.
His vision swam, crimson dripping into one eye. He knelt, muscles trembling. A massive shadow loomed above.
Gavrlok, the Bone-Crowned Terror, stood before him. Thick crimson fur bristled, jagged obsidian horns glinted. Its burning eyes saw through lies, weakness, fear.
It snarled, the sound shaking the air.
System: Profile - Unique Monster: Gavrlok - The Spine Tyrant | Level 24
System: Warning: Vital signs unstable. Physical damage critical. Devour not available while combat-active.
Heh... not how I imagined my end. Kael's lips twitched. Not again.
Gavrlok lunged, claws slicing through the air. Kael rolled—barely—gasping as talons grazed his ribs. The impact slammed him into the wall, bones cracking. Pain shot through him like wildfire.
He slid to the floor, body broken. Breathing was hard.
Why the hell am I even here? I wasn't born in this world. I wasn't meant for this cursed cycle.
---
One Month Earlier
Rain fell over the eastern slums, cold and unrelenting. Kael pressed his back against a slick brick wall, hands clutching his bleeding side.
I'm dying. No doubt about it.
The wound was deep, clean, precise. The blade that struck didn't tremble.
Footsteps echoed through the alley. Kael slipped into shadow, moving like a ghost. His poisoned body betrayed him—sluggish, weak.
Keep moving.
He navigated the alleyways, past rotting crates and forgotten corpses. The slums were a graveyard of dreams, where hope decayed alongside the bodies.
Behind him, silence. Too silent.
A silhouette appeared in the rain. Calm. Still.
The King of Assassins.
"I taught you better than this, Kael," he said, his voice cutting through the downpour like a blade.
Kael gritted his teeth. "I'm not your pawn anymore."
The King didn't answer. He stepped forward, a blur in the rain. Kael drew his blade with his good hand—not perfect, but it would do.
Their steel clashed, sparks flaring. Rain hissed off their blades. The King's movements were flawless, a master's precision honed over decades. Kael's were instinctual, his body recalling years of brutal training.
He trained me since I was a child, barely old enough to hold a knife.
The memories flooded back—nights in the slums, the King's cold voice barking orders.
"Strike faster, Kael. Hesitation is death."
Endless drills in darkened rooms, dodging blades blindfolded. The first kill—a merchant who owed the wrong debt. Kael's hands had trembled then, but the King's grip on his shoulder was unyielding.
"This is your purpose," he'd said.
Purpose? It was a chain.
A feint. A pivot. Kael's arm was nicked, blood mixing with rain. Another step, his leg.
A final move, and the King's blade pierced Kael's chest.
Kael gasped, the rain tasting metallic.
So this is how I die... Not a warrior's end. Just a correction of control.
The King's face remained calm, untouched by remorse.
"You were never meant to live free."
Kael fell to his knees, the world slowing.
Silent kills, cold eyes, endless blood.
A debt I was born into. A cage I tried to run from.
He'd taken countless lives for the King, each one a weight on his soul. The faces haunted him—merchants, rivals, innocents caught in the wrong game.
I wanted out. I thought I could escape.
Nothing. No redemption. No second chance. Just—
Kael's eyes snapped open, blurry and weak.
Everything feels wrong.
His limbs were short, muscles feeble. He forced himself to breathe, to see.
The air was cold, damp, heavy with the scent of wet stone, blood, and moss. Thin shafts of light bled through jagged cracks in the stone ceiling. The cave stretched deep, far beyond his weakened vision. Its walls were jagged, natural—not carved, but worn by time, by claw, by something ancient and powerful.
Pools of water shimmered in crevices, reflecting light like fractured glass.
Bones littered the edges—old kills. Hollowed carcasses of monsters, perhaps men. Scorch marks scarred the far wall, claw marks deep enough to make the stone weep.
This is no sanctuary. It's a den. A grave.
Kael shifted on a bed of moss and thick pelts. Someone made this livable—if only barely. Hunted prey was tucked in corners, drying or rotting. A soft sound broke his thoughts—deep, slow breathing.
He turned, neck aching. A massive figure lay curled around him, silver fur matted with dried blood. Her paw draped over him, shielding him from the world's nightmares.
My mother. Not by choice. Not by blood as I know it. By survival.
"Kael…?" Her voice was warm, feminine, laced with concern. Her pale silver eyes locked onto his, shimmering with worry. She stretched her long, furred body, approaching with grace despite her wounds.
"You're awake…" she exhaled, relief flooding her tone. "How do you feel, little one?"
I blinked, throat aching. "I… I'm fine," Kael rasped.
"Fine?" She narrowed her eyes, snout touching his. "You nearly died. The eastern tunnel collapsed… I found you buried under stone and blood."
She paused, biting back a growl. "You've been unconscious for almost two days."
Two days? Kael's voice cracked. "Two days?"
She nuzzled his fur, brushing away dirt. "I ran through half the Labyrinth. You have no idea how scared I was."
Her warmth… it's real. Nothing like the cold life I had before.
Kael's chest ached, not from injury but something deeper.
I never had this before.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, lowering his head.
She snorted softly, licking his forehead. "You don't need to apologize. You're alive. That's all that matters."
Kael couldn't respond.
She turned, casting a glance. "Rest now. I'll hunt. We need food." She vanished into the labyrinth's twisting paths.
The dagger's edge shimmered faintly in the moonlight as it hovered inches from my throat.
I didn't flinch.
The pressure behind it told me all I needed. It was him.
"Kael," came the soft, rasping voice behind me, "you've served well."
I closed my eyes.
He never used my name unless it was final.
"Why?" I asked, voice calm. "Was I not useful?"
A pause.
"You became too dangerous."
I scoffed.
Of course.
The scent of poison—faint, delicate, rare—clung to the air. He had laced the blade. I would die in seconds, long before blood loss became an issue.
"You trained me to be this way," I whispered, turning slightly so he could see my smile. "Perfect. Efficient. Loyal."
The blade pressed deeper. A warm line of blood slid down my neck.
"That's why you must die."
The dagger plunged.
---
Darkness.
Silence.
Then—burning.
Like molten fire tearing through every cell.
I screamed.
No voice came out.
My mind—shattered, scattered across some endless void. Memories. Pain. Mission logs. Regret. The face of a boy I killed for a coin purse. A girl I spared… and shouldn't have.
And then… nothing.
---
When I opened my eyes again, I was not in a body I recognized.
The world smelled different.
Sound came sharp, every echo bouncing strangely. Sight felt—off. Deeper, richer, but distorted.
I tried to move, and a whimper escaped me.
My limbs were too short. My muscles weak. I stumbled, small claws scrabbling against stone.
Where… what—am I?
Then came the pain in my head—like shards of ice stabbing inward.
A voice echoed in my mind.
> [Integrated Predator System Initializing…]
Species: Ferawyn Pup (Unranked)
Status: Reincarnated Entity – Memory Retention Successful
Core Potential: High
Bloodline Status: Dormant
Primary Skill: Devour (Locked)
System? Reincarnated?
I growled instinctively—then stopped.
It wasn't a human growl.
I looked down. My hands were paws. Clawed. Furred. Small.
What the hell have I become?
---
The cave was dim, lit only by strange moss along the walls. A warm body pressed against mine. I turned—an enormous creature curled around me. A wolf. No… something more.
She stirred. Yellow eyes opened, and she regarded me with a strange warmth. Motherly. Protective.
Was she… my mother?
This doesn't make sense. I died. I was human.
The memories were clear. The blade. The betrayal. The pain.
But now—this. A new life.
A new form.
A system?
---
I spent days watching.
Learning.
The den was deep within a massive cave network, and the creatures—my kind?—were many. Wolves, yet not. They stood taller than men, spoke in guttural tones, and carried crude weapons made of bone and crystal.
Ferawyn, the system called them.
One evening, I overheard whispers.
"That pup… the runt?"
"Yeah. Kael'thas, they named him. After the old alpha. A joke, really."
"Should've been left to die."
My blood boiled.
So this is what they think of me…
---
I needed strength.
I needed answers.
And the system—this Integrated Predator System—was the key.
So I willed it open.
> [Integrated Predator System Active]
User: Kael'thas
Race: Ferawyn Pup
Bloodline: Sealed
Core Count: 0 / 10
Primary Skill: Devour (Locked)
New Objective: Survive | Unlock Devour | Awaken Bloodline
A flicker of my old self stirred inside.
Assassin instincts. Planning. Patience.
If survival meant tearing through this world one monster at a time, so be it.
They called me a runt.
They'll regret that.
I may have died a weapon…
…but I'll rise again.
Not as prey—
…but as a hunter.