From the thicket emerged a massive black wolf. Its fur shimmered with a faint, unnatural blue tint. Its glowing yellow eyes locked onto them immediately, and a pulsing aura of corrupted Essentia clung to its body like mist. It wasn’t just big—it was wrong.
Each step it took made the soil tremble.
Leon’s eyes narrowed. “This one’s touched by corruption…”
He stepped aside slowly, grabbing a dry branch from the ground like it was a staff.
—“Towan, Elliot. Time to test what you’ve learned. Stay calm. Work together. Don’t try anything flashy—you’re not ready for that.”
Towan’s fists tightened. He stepped forward, nodding to Elliot.
—“We’ve got this,” he said.
—“Barely trained fists versus a glowing monster wolf… yeah, we’ve totally got this,” Elliot muttered under his breath, trying to find the humor as his knees stiffened.
Towan took the lead, dashing in low, aiming a strong side kick at the beast’s leg. But the wolf was faster—its body twisted with fluid grace, dodging the kick and spinning its tail like a whip. Towan flew back with a thud, skidding through the mud.
—“Agh—! Okay! Ow!” he groaned.
Elliot froze, unsure whether to run or help.
The wolf stepped forward, slow and menacing.
—“Elliot!” Towan called, struggling to his feet. “Don’t just stand there—try to get its attention!”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Elliot looked around in panic. His Essentia control was nowhere near good enough for ranged attacks… but maybe—
He grabbed a nearby stick and waved it over his head like a lunatic.
—“HEY! OVER HERE, YOU FORGOTTEN COUSIN OF A PINECONE!”
The wolf’s ears twitched. It turned its head slightly.
Towan, grinning through the pain, took a breath. He focused—not on power, but on flow. He let the Essentia pass through his legs, easing into his movement like they’d practiced.
As Elliot darted clumsily to one side, waving the stick, the wolf turned to follow. That split second was enough.
Towan moved in—not fast, but fluid—circling behind and driving his elbow into the beast’s ribs with all the momentum he could muster. The wolf let out a sharp growl and staggered sideways, visibly hurt.
But it wasn’t done.
Its gaze locked onto Elliot, now holding the stick like it might somehow become a sword if he believed hard enough.
The wolf lunged.
Leon stepped forward.
His dry branch struck the ground hard between the wolf and Elliot, kicking up a splash of mud and bark.
—“BACK.” His voice cracked like thunder, steady and commanding.
The wolf skidded to a halt, ears flattened.
Leon held his ground, stepping slowly toward it. From his belt, he pulled a small pouch of herbs, crushing it in his palm and casting the dust into the wind. A sharp aroma filled the air—pungent and bitter.
The wolf flinched. Its body twitched in discomfort, and with a final low growl, it turned and vanished back into the forest’s shadow.
Silence returned.
Towan and Elliot stared, panting and stunned.
—“That was…” Towan began.
—“...surprisingly effective for something that smells like rotting celery,” Elliot finished, still holding his stick like a sacred relic.
Leon cracked a small smile as he tied off the empty pouch.
—“That wolf wasn’t just wild. It was corrupted. And corrupted beasts often react strongly to certain herbs. You don’t always fight strength with strength.”
Towan nodded, still catching his breath. —“So… you didn’t even use Essentia.”
—“Didn’t need to,” Leon replied. “Sometimes the best tool is already around you. You boys did well—clumsy, but well.”
Elliot dropped his stick dramatically. —“I’m gonna carve this into a trophy.”
Leon raised an eyebrow. —“Good. Let it remind you that instinct is useful, but planning keeps you alive. You’re not warriors yet. But you’re learning.”
As the trio moved on, their pace slower but steadier, the air behind them returned to normal—though none of them would forget the lesson carved into the forest clearing that day.