Chapter 11 - Gathering Allies
Kaito stirred on the straw-stuffed futon, the warm glow of morning sun creeping through the thin fabric of the inn's curtains. Outside, the town of Virestead was waking up – lanterns dimmed, shutters opened, and the distant clank of a smith's hammer began its daily rhythm. As he drifted between sleep and wakefulness, a sharp chime cut through the quiet. A translucent holographic message shimmered in the air above his bedside table:
Save Point: Virestead Outskirts.
His heart hit his ribs. Save point updated. Virestead Outskirts. It confirmed what he already knew: he had finally escaped the endless forest. The weight of his sword felt less like a shackle now as he sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. For the first time in what felt like ages, Kaito allowed his shoulders to relax. He took a slow breath of the cool morning air, tasting the tang of distant sea salt mixed with the sweet waft of bakery bread from the street below.
But the relief was fragile, like mist dissolving in the sun. Memories of the Hollow-Talon Wolves still lingered at the edges of his thoughts. The locals had given him only stories and warnings – wolves with razor-like talons that could rip a man apart. Not enough to truly understand how to face them. He realized grimly that he lacked crucial information about these beasts. The quest to track them down would require more than just his blade; it would require allies. Quietly, he rose and dressed, checking the edge of his sword for signs of wear (there were none – no scars or cuts remained on his body from the countless deaths, only the phantom memories clinging to his bones).
Kaito stepped out into the morning sunlight of Virestead's market square. It was a bustling place. Merchants set up stalls selling fragrant spices and bright cloth, children darted between legs and barrels, and guards polished their armor by the fountain. He moved with purpose, eyes scanning. If he wanted a fighting chance, he needed a team: skilled, strong, and trustworthy. Word in town was that an unusual trio of adventurers might answer the call.
He found the first in an open field on the edge of town. A tall, lean figure moved through wooden targets with practiced grace, felling them one by one with a massive double-edged axe. The warrior's skin was streaked with gray fur, and her eyes were a fierce gold – unmistakably a beastkin of the wolf-kin tribes. The beastkin glanced up as Kaito approached. Her muscles coiled like a predator's, but she lowered her weapon slightly when she saw the earnest determination in his stance.
"I'm Kaito," he began, voice calm but firm. "I need help hunting some… dangerous wolves outside Virestead. I hear you're strong with that axe."
The beastkin grunted softly, as if sniffing for truth. Her name was Fenria, the bladesinger of a northern pack. She answered in a low growl, "Hunt wolves, you say? Hollow-Talon Wolves aren't anything to blunder into, human. You'd best have coin or a purpose beyond bravado."
Kaito gave a respectful nod, offering a satchel of gold coins. "They tore through a friend's caravan. I need a team to stand a chance. I have some pay, and I won't turn back from this."
Fenria's snout curled into the semblance of a grin. "I like your resolve, Kaito. I'll help – for now."
His second recruit was waiting at the archery range near the inn. A lithe elf with ash-blond hair and emerald eyes was expertly loosing arrow after arrow into a distant target. Not a single shot missed the bullseye. He wore soft leather armor under a forest-green cloak, and across his back rested a beautifully crafted longbow. The elf noticed Kaito approach and pulled an arrow. "Careful there," he said in a voice smooth as riverstone. "You'll spook these targets as easily as a willow in the wind."
Kaito grinned a bit. "You must be good. Elion, right? They said an elf archer might join a hunting party. How about it? I could use someone with your skill on the team."
Elion lowered his draw on the next arrow. He studied Kaito with a steady calm. There was a hint of a smile playing at his lips, the familiarity of a peaceful forest in his eyes. "Tracking wolves, you said? Perhaps," he murmured, "if the price is right." Kaito offered him supplies and a share of any reward. The elf nodded once. "I'm in. The life of an archer grows dull without a challenge. We'll see if these wolves are that challenge."
Finally, Kaito sought out the human warrior. Darius was an imposing figure – broad-shouldered and tall, with sun-bleached blond hair and a warm, square jaw. He was training with a greatsword in the yard outside the blacksmith's shop, arms moving in practiced arcs as he struck at a hanging training dummy. Sweat glistened on his skin, and his laughter boomed out as he taunted the wooden figure with playful confidence. His armor was simple but solid, bearing the marks of many skirmishes.
"Darius!" Kaito called. The knight turned, spotting the familiar young hero of the forest tales. "I could use your sword," Kaito said, "if you're free. Wolf hunting. Interested?"
The warrior flashed a grin that revealed a missing tooth. He wiped his blade on his cloth and clapped a huge hand on Kaito's shoulder with a chuckle. "Wolf hunting, heh? You're braver than I thought. I'd be honored, Kaito. Sounds like the biggest fight I've had since the goblins around Kettlewood." He rolled his shoulders. "Fenria, the Axe of the North," he rumbled as he glanced at her, and Fenria only raised her chin in greeting. "Elion, the Forest's Arrow." Elion inclined his head. "Now it's the four of us. Let's show these wolves what legends can do."
The four stood in the golden afternoon light outside Virestead's gates, a motley pack bound by purpose. Kaito took a moment to look at them – fierce Fenria with her towering, muscular frame; graceful Elion scanning the horizon, his quiver ready; boisterous Darius standing tall with a broad sword at his hip. He felt a flicker of something he hadn't allowed himself in a long time: hope. The endless cycle had left him hollow, but here, surrounded by living comrades, something warm stirred again.
For the next two days, they never once spoke of the darkness behind Kaito's eyes. Instead, they spent those last peaceful moments as comrades. In the bustling tavern that first night, they drank local ale and shared stories. Darius boasted of lifting a grinding stone with his bare hands, prompting Elion to challenge him to a gentle archery contest – Darius shooting wooden stakes with Fenria cheering like a crowd. Kaito joined quietly, laughing aloud for the first time in a memory as he missed wildly and friend Fenria teased him with mock sympathy.
The market's bright stalls that morning felt safer than any battlefield. Fenria bartered with a fishmonger, snatching up salt-cured salmon for their journey. Elion quietly played with a curious child, letting her hold one of his arrows (capped safely) and asking her to draw smiles on its tail feathers. Darius and Kaito sparred with wooden swords by a fountain, neither trying too hard but both sweating and panting happily, their shouts drawing a small crowd of amused townsfolk. In those moments, Kaito's chest was light for the first time in years. He took mental snapshots: Darius grinning wildly, elbows leaning on the table; Elion's calm smile as he tucked a strand of hair back; Fenria's rare laugh at a joke he couldn't understand.
On the morning of the third day, the dawn painted the inn's courtyard in pale gold. Kaito gathered gear: healing salves, water skins, charcoal for smoke to keep bugs off, and the iron courage from having known laughter again. His heart hammered with anticipation as they left Virestead behind. They marched east, Fenria and Darius on either side of him, Elion at the back with the bow slung over his shoulder, scanning the edge of town one last time. Kaito glanced at his friends and let a genuine grin escape. "Let's bring those wolves home," he whispered, mostly to himself. For a few shining minutes, he felt alive.
The sunlight waned as the travelers entered the new forest beyond Virestead. Towering pines and oaks arched overhead, their leaves filtering the late afternoon light into swirling patterns on the forest floor. The air was cool and damp, carrying the scent of pine resin and moss. Kaito tightened the grip on his sword's hilt as he took the lead, the forest canopy above opening into vague shapes in the twilight. The silence felt heavy; even the birds had stopped their songs, as if the woods themselves were watching. His companions moved confidently beside him. Fenria stalked ahead like a hunter of old tales, ears twitching. Darius walked with the easy stride of a man who has stormed many a battlefield. Elion hummed a soft tune as he walked, belying the tension in his shoulders.
Hours passed in careful tracking. Fenria led them off the beaten path, finding crushed grass and broken twigs – the signs of large paws. The deeper they went, the thicker the air grew. A distant rustling of bushes made them tense. Suddenly, from the underbrush ahead, a wild boar as large as a man erupted, tusks bared. Kaito barely had time to raise his sword.
The beast charged like a battering ram. Fenria yelled a warning, and each member sprang into action. Darius threw up his shield to absorb the boar's first strike, sending it reeling. Elion loosed an arrow. Its arrowhead thudded into the boar's flank, buying them a moment. Kaito and Fenria circled around. Kaito slashed at its shoulder; the boar squealed and lunged at Kaito. He rolled beneath its charge, his blade hacking into its exposed stomach as it passed. The boar shrieked, stumbling to the ground in a crash of hooves and thorns. Fenria leapt forward and split the beast's head clean off with her axe in one brutal swing. Blood erupted like a fountain, dark red in the fading light.
Darius immediately knelt to patch a shallow cut that ran along his forearm from one of the boar's thrashing tusks. Fenria wiped her blade and hummed a low tune of satisfaction. Elion pulled out another arrow from the wounded boar, winced, and offered it as a war-trophy. Kaito patted Darius on the shoulder. The smiles they exchanged were fierce, triumphant. Kaito's chest swelled; pain was a numb memory again, but adrenaline thrummed through every vein. They had worked together – seamlessly – and survived. For a moment, the weight of endless death felt a little lighter.
That night, beside a crackling campfire, the forest alive with distant hoots and insects, they tended wounds and ate smoked meat Fenria had carried. Kaito carefully bandaged Darius's arm and returned the favor as Darius did the same to him for a jagged cut on his own hand. Under the starlight peeking through the treetops, Fenria sharpened her axe and humming a quiet tune of pride. Elion cleaned arrows in the soft glow, and Kaito saw their faces relaxed and content, illuminated by firelight.
He sat and finally allowed himself to smile. The fear that always lingered – that he would die and never see hope again – softened. Here among friends, the silence felt peaceful. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this safe. He looked around at them: how Fenria's wolf-eyes closed in satisfaction after the boar fell, how Elion gently massaged his shoulder and mumbled about keeping "toes and fingers safe," and how Darius kept throwing playful punches at Kaito for daring to eat the last piece of jerky. Even he laughed, the sound bright in the night. For a few fleeting hours, Kaito forgot about curses, statues, and death loops.
In the dark hours before dawn, Elion nodded toward Kaito. Quietly, the elf asked, "This is all right, isn't it? To laugh after all that's happened?"
Kaito swallowed, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. His gaze fell to the embers. "Yeah," he managed softly. "It's... important. We deserve it."
Elion's eyes shone in the firelight. "Then we'll remember this night, friend. When the morning comes, we'll be ready."
When dawn finally broke, pale light filtering through the trees, the four warriors rose as one. Around them, the forest seemed to hold its breath. Kaito led forward, heart steady now with the knowledge that he had people to protect and who protected him. The air smelled of damp earth and promise. Fenria sniffed it, tail swishing behind her. "These wolves are near," she grunted. Darius checked his sword's edge, and Elion nocked an arrow as they approached a narrow streambed.
Before long, they found real signs: torn scraps of leather, tufts of matted fur snagged on brambles, and dark, wet pawprints. Something had killed and dragged a boar's carcass here. Kaito knelt to inspect the tracks: they were enormous, jagged like they'd been carved. He felt a prickle of anticipation run up his spine. They were close now
They tracked the wolves deeper into the forest, each step weighted with tension. The trees arched overhead like silent sentinels, their branches muttering ancient warnings. The sky was hidden, and a silence hung heavy — as if the forest had fallen mute. Kaito scanned the shadows. Every rustle made him flinch, every distant cry set his teeth on edge.
Suddenly, a low growl split the silence. Four giant Hollow-Talon Wolves lunged from the brush like springing death. Their fur was matted and dark, matted with grime and dried blood. Long, curved talons gleamed black on their massive paws. One wolf had glowing red eyes, another's fur was streaked with white scars. They circled quickly, snarling, teeth bared — clearly feeling out their challengers.
Kaito shouted as the wolves sprang, adrenaline surging through him. "Positions!" he yelled, and the team snapped into action. Elion loosed a volley of arrows. Two bolts struck true, one in a shoulder and one pinned to a tree, eliciting snarls of rage from the beasts. Fenria and Darius leaped in side by side, blades raised high.
The nearest wolf leapt toward Kaito, jaws wide. He spun, slashing his sword down in a silver arc. Metal met bone with a sickening crunch as the creature's talon was severed mid-air. It cried out, pivoting, and Kaito followed up with a powerful stab through its side. It collapsed to the ground, the heavy thud echoing through the trees.
Darius roared and swung his sword in a broad arc toward another wolf. It was bigger, fiercer — perhaps an alpha. It ducked under the blow and lunged at Fenria, who was rolling a second beast onto its back. Fenria brought her axe up under its chin, driving the blade through its skull. Red mist sprayed upward like a fountain. The wolf's blood pooled at Fenria's feet. For a moment, Fenria just stood there, panting, her golden eyes wild, then exhaled sharply and turned toward the next target.
That's when pain bit at Kaito's ribs. The fourth wolf, which had circled around, swiped a massive claw at Kaito's side. He staggered, almost dropping his sword as searing agony bloomed. He gasped, but recovered, cutting the attacker's leg. The creature stumbled, moaning. Darius charged forward from beside Fenria, knocking it off balance and slashing at its belly. Together, Kaito and Darius finished it in a flurry of steel and growling triumph.
Finally, only one wolf remained: the blood-streaked alpha, wounded but still ferocious. It bared yellow teeth and stood over its fallen packmates. Kaito felt something inside him click. All the loss, pain, and fear dissolved into a razor-sharp focus. This was the moment, he knew.
As if sensing his resolve, Elion let fly a final arrow, which struck the wolf squarely in an eye. The wolf howled, staggering. Kaito ran forward, meeting it head-on. The world slowed. He slashed left, then right, and the wolf ducked under his second swing. It tried to leap aside, but Fenria appeared in its blind spot. Her great axe swung down in a thunderous blow, catching the wolf just below its neck.
There was a spray of blood. The wolf let out a final choked cry and collapsed at Kaito's feet, its eyes clouding as life left them. Everything went quiet.
They stood in the clearing, chest heaving, swords and axes dripping. Leaves fluttered down. For a long moment, nobody spoke. Then, out of the silence, Kaito let out the breath he hadn't known he was holding and finally smiled — a real, genuine grin that made the corner of his eyes crinkle. It felt warm and strange on his battered face. Behind him, Darius let out a whoop and punched the air in victory, and Fenria released an exultant howl that echoed through the trees. Elion lowered his bow and leaned back, allowing a slow smile. Kaito's vision blurred with exhaustion and relief, but above all, warmth radiated through him. After so long feeling empty… he felt alive again.
He looked around at the ragtag friends made family: Fenria panting, wild-eyed, grinning like a triumphant wolf herself; Darius high-fiving Kaito; Elion quietly nodding at Fenria in respect. They had done it. Together they had killed the legendary wolves.
As the adrenaline began to fade, the woods around them fell eerily quiet. Kaito wiped sweat and blood from his brow with the back of his glove. He had never believed he could feel this happy – but now the distant laughter of streams and the whisper of leaves felt like a miracle. He swallowed, turning to Fenria with a grin. "We did it," he said hoarsely.
Fenria's tail thumped on the forest floor. She grinned, revealing sharp teeth. "We certainly did, Kaito. These beasts won't bother Virestead again."
Elion joined him, placing a light hand on Kaito's shoulder. "You fought well, friend. Just like the songs say." He gave Kaito a playful elbow.
Kaito tried to respond, heart full. For an instant he could almost believe the nightmare was over.
Then the forest went silent.
At first it was just a low rumble, like distant thunder. Kaito frowned. It grew louder, as if the sky itself were cracking. His newfound grin froze on his face. The trees around them shuddered with each booming crash.
Fenria's ears flattened and she growled, low and wary. Darius shouted, "What now?"
Behind him, Elion had already nocked another arrow. Kaito turned slowly to look, breath catching in his throat. There, between the trunks, a vast shadow materialized against the gray light of an overcast sky. It had wings – enormous wings that blotted out the canopy, each flap stirring a gust that rattled the leaves. Its body was draped in thick, obsidian scales that scraped with each movement, and its eyes burned a fierce, hellish orange. A beast like nothing Kaito had ever seen: part dragon, part nightmare.
It let out a roar that was both the crack of the earth and the howl of the wind, and descended upon them at impossible speed.
Kaito felt the world slow. Horror bloomed in his chest. His sword arm raised defensively, but time had dulled his reaction. The monstrous creature's claw lashed down before he could parry.
Pain exploded at the base of his neck, sharp and final. In an instant, darkness claimed him.
He was falling.
---
A faint beeping noise pulled Kaito back. His eyes fluttered open. He was lying on the thin mattress of the inn's futon, morning light spilling over the folded curtains. Heart hammering, he bolted upright. The holographic message still flickered in the air above the table:
Save Point: Virestead Outskirts.
He gasped – that ringing in his ears again. The last thing he remembered was the wolf-pelt cloak and Darius's cheer. Then the roar, the blur of scales, and overwhelming pain. His hands fumbled at his neck, expecting a wound, but felt only skin. He blinked, disoriented.
It was morning again. He was back at the inn. Safe. Alive.
Kaito's mind raced. Not again. The same horrible cycle. The wolves slain — none of it real. A thin tremble crept through him. He stared at the message: Virestead Outskirts. How could he be back here? This was the exact moment after receiving the save notification. He recalled the friends – what had truly happened to them?
His chest tightened. The excitement, the victory – and then the screaming end. He should be celebrating with them now, yet here he was alone, trembling in a familiar room. His sword lay on the floor, as if waiting for him to pick it up again. Outside, life carried on unaware, but inside Kaito's head, silence roared.
He sat on the edge of the futon, mind reeling. What did it mean? Was this another cruel rewind? Am I even truly alive now? The tears he had held back for so long threatened him again, and Kaito clenched his teeth. His fingers tightened around the edge of the mattress, white-knuckled.
A scream lodged in his throat. It was the screams of his friends dying – or were they? The thought stabbed through him. Had they awakened too, at this same moment, doomed to face this trial again without him? Guilt and panic churned in his gut.
For a long minute, Kaito simply trembled. The first genuine happiness he had felt in ages had been shattered in an instant. His world blurred with grief and rage. Outside, the inn's corridor was empty and quiet, oblivious to Kaito's torment.
On unsteady legs, he stood and drew his sword with a slow, aching resolve. The weapon hummed softly as if greeting its master again. His reflection in the window showed a pale, haunted face. He stared at it.
"I'm back," Kaito whispered hoarsely. A single tear escaped down his cheek. He had no answers, only a shattered heart and a sickening certainty: the cycle was far from over.
The day outside beckoned as if nothing had happened. But Kaito knew the truth now: everything had changed, and he could never forget it. The weight on his shoulders was back – heavier than ever – as he stepped forward out of the room, alone in his confusion and dread.
He gasped – that ringing in his ears again. The last thing he remembered was the wolf-pelt cloak and Darius's cheer. Then the roar, the blur of scales, and overwhelming pain. His hands fumbled at his neck, expecting a wound, but felt only skin. He blinked, disoriented.
It was morning again. He was back at the inn. Safe. Alive.
Kaito's mind raced. Not again. The same horrible cycle. The wolves slain — none of it real. A thin tremble crept through him. He stared at the message: Virestead Outskirts. How could he be back here? This was the exact moment after receiving the save notification. He recalled the friends – what had truly happened to them?
His chest tightened. The excitement, the victory – and then the screaming end. He should be celebrating with them now, yet here he was alone, trembling in a familiar room. His sword lay on the floor, as if waiting for him to pick it up again. Outside, life carried on unaware, but inside Kaito's head, silence roared.
He sat on the edge of the futon, mind reeling.
A rough whisper broke from his lips, barely audible:
> "Did any of it even happen...? Were they... real?"
He buried his face in his hands, breathing hard.
> "Fenria... Elion... Darius... Did you...?"
The words died in his throat.
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force the memories into focus—but they slipped like sand through his fingers.
> "I fought... we fought together," he muttered. "We laughed. We survived..."
His fists clenched the blanket.
> "Why—why did it end like that?"
A scream lodged in his throat. It was the screams of his friends dying – or were they? The thought stabbed through him. Had they awakened too, at this same moment, doomed to face this trial again without him? Guilt and panic churned in his gut.
For a long minute, Kaito simply trembled.
The first genuine happiness he had felt in ages had been shattered in an instant. His world blurred with grief and rage. Outside, the inn's corridor was empty and quiet, oblivious to Kaito's torment.
On unsteady legs, he stood and drew his sword with a slow, aching resolve. The weapon hummed softly as if greeting its master again. His reflection in the window showed a pale, haunted face. He stared at it.
A raw laugh escaped him—a broken, humorless thing.
> "Of course," he said bitterly. "Of course it wasn't real. Nothing good ever lasts."
He leaned his forehead against the cold glass, eyes dull.
> "I'll find out," he whispered. "Even if it kills me again... I'll find the truth."
A single tear escaped down his cheek. He had no answers, only a shattered heart and a sickening certainty: the cycle was far from over.
The day outside beckoned as if nothing had happened. But Kaito knew the truth now: everything had changed, and he could never forget it. The weight on his shoulders was back – heavier than ever – as he stepped forward out of the room, alone in his confusion and dread.