The west gate was a maelstrom of fear and tooth. Splintered wood hung like broken teeth from the palisade, and the air was thick with the growls of the Shadowclaw Pack and the desperate cries of the outpost's few defenders. Elder Borin, his face pale and contorted with effort, swung his spiritual blade in wide, clumsy arcs, his meager spiritual energy sputtering. Around him, a handful of guardsmen, barely more than armed peasants, were being systematically overwhelmed by the relentless, organized assault of the wolves. One guard was already down, a dark stain spreading on the earth beneath him. Another was cornered against a collapsed section of the wall, his terrified eyes locked on a hulking Shadowclaw whose claws raked against the stones, eager to reach him.
And then, Ren was there, a small, unassuming figure pushing through the chaos. Their enhanced Perception allowed them to see not just the panicked movements, but the subtle spiritual distortions around each wolf, the faint glow of their predatory instincts, and the strained, sputtering spiritual energy of the human defenders. It was like watching a slow, brutal dance where every step of the participants was painfully clear.
Ren's gaze locked onto Alpha Greyfang. The leader was a magnificent, terrifying beast, larger than the others, its hide an unnatural dark grey that seemed to absorb the dim light. Its eyes, twin points of nascent spiritual awareness, glowed with malevolent intelligence as it expertly dodged Borin's wild swings, simultaneously directing its pack with subtle snarls and flicks of its tail. Greyfang was focused on a struggling Elder Borin, seemingly delighting in tormenting the outpost's "strongest" cultivator before delivering the killing blow. This was the opening.
The elderly villager Ren had seen stumble earlier, a wizened old woman known for her kindness and the rare, gentle hums she'd share while mending nets, was trapped. She'd collapsed near the gaping breach, too old and frail to move, a mid-sized Shadowclaw closing in, its teeth bared. A direct assault was suicide for Ren, but a strategic diversion? That might just work.
Ren took a deep breath, the scent of fear and blood assaulting their sharpened senses. They focused, channeling the newfound energy from the [Minor Spirit Flare] skill, which thrummed like a suppressed spark within their core. It was a strange, internal pressure, different from the steady hum of the Raw Energy Siphon.
"Hey!" Ren shouted, their voice surprisingly clear and sharp amidst the din, drawing the attention of a startled grunt from Borin Jr., who was grappling with a wolf nearby. Ren didn't look at him. Their eyes were fixed on Alpha Greyfang.
With a focused mental command, Ren activated the skill. A small, ethereal orb of shimmering, pale-blue light erupted from their outstretched palm. It wasn't a projectile, nor was it particularly bright in the conventional sense. Instead, it pulsed once, expanding rapidly into an invisible wave of blinding, irritating spiritual energy. It was formless, silent, but utterly disruptive.
The wave hit Greyfang first. The Alpha, mid-snarl, stiffened. Its predatory glow flickered, and its intelligent eyes widened, replaced by a momentary, confused glaze. A low, irritated whine escaped its throat, something Ren had never heard from the normally silent, efficient killer. The invisible energy seemed to agitate it, making its fur ripple as if caught in an unseen gale. Its movements became jerky, disoriented.
The rest of the Shadowclaw Pack was also affected. Several wolves recoiled, shaking their heads, their usually focused attacks becoming wild, unfocused swipes. The one cornering the old woman hesitated, its snarl turning into a low growl of annoyance before it snapped its head towards Ren, as if trying to locate the source of the irritating sensation.
This was the window.
"Run!" Ren yelled to the old woman, their voice raw, pointing frantically towards a cluster of nearby shacks where villagers were cowering. The woman, eyes wide with terror and confusion, scrambled to her feet, stumbling but moving, her gaze flicking between the disoriented wolf and the shouting scavenger.
Elder Borin, who had been about to fall under Greyfang's disoriented attack, looked up, bewildered. He saw Ren, standing amidst the chaos, not fighting, but somehow… doing something that had thrown the Alpha off balance. His brow furrowed in a mix of confusion and suspicious disbelief. "What in the…?"
Greyfang, shaking its head, finally managed to clear its senses, its eyes snapping back to Ren with a furious, intelligent glare. Its confusion had turned into cold fury. This small, insignificant creature had dared to interfere. It let out a piercing, enraged howl, a command that sent a tremor through the pack. The scattered wolves, though still agitated, began to re-focus, their attention now on Ren.
But Ren wasn't waiting. The [Minor Spirit Flare] was for disorientation, not for victory. The skill had lasted its five seconds. Having bought precious moments and saved the old woman, Ren turned and ran, not back to the outpost's interior, but along the inner side of the ruined palisade, aiming for a shadowed gap where they could slip away.
Greyfang, still vibrating with frustrated fury, let out another snarl and surged forward. But the unexpected disorientation, coupled with Ren's sudden dash, had created enough disruption. Other wolves, still shaken, were slow to respond. The outpost's rudimentary defenders, given a momentary reprieve by Ren's intervention, managed to rally just enough to present a renewed, albeit weak, front.
The Alpha snarled one last time, its intelligent gaze fixed on Ren's retreating figure. It had found its new target, its new obsession. But the element of surprise was gone. The raid's momentum was broken. With a final, frustrated flick of its tail, Greyfang turned, leading its now agitated but less effective pack away from the west gate, retreating into the deeper shadows of the wilds. The howls faded, replaced by the relieved, trembling murmurs of the villagers.
Ren didn't stop running until their lungs burned and their legs screamed in protest. They collapsed behind a pile of abandoned lumber near the outpost's eastern edge, gasping for air. Their entire body ached, but it wasn't from a beating. It was from the sheer physical exertion, and the adrenaline slowly draining away. The 75 SP spent on the [Minor Spirit Flare] felt like nothing. The skill had worked. They had driven off the Alpha. They had saved someone.
A quiet, fierce triumph welled up in Ren's chest. The system was real. It was powerful. And it had given them not just a path to cultivation, but the ability to protect, to defy, and to change their own fate. Elder Borin's suspicion would come later, the apprentices' confusion would simmer, but tonight, Ren, the invisible scavenger, had made a ripple in the stagnant pond of Thornhide Outpost. And the world would never be the same.