Demon Wolf

Wolf gasped. His eyes snapped open and the strongest migraine of his life slammed the back of his head like a club.

Who? Where? What? He tried to burn Anima and clear his mind, but the expected clarity never came. Instead, his headache grew worse.

He pressed his fingers against a rough wooden surface, squeezing shallow dents as he struggled for breath in the darkness. He flailed his arms, tossing the cloak he had concealed himself with. Finally, he saw moonlight, and his memories flooded back.

He was trapped in Fellworld. The rift through which he plummeted closed behind him, and he was alone, surrounded by primitives. He— The sudden thunderous rumble and saliva flooding his mouth grabbed his attention.

Hungry! The earthshaking growl was his stomach.

Hungry! Only that thought and sensation existed in his mind. Then, his instincts added another word, Eat.

Wolf stifled a pained scream as a basin-sized chunk of chilled raw meat appeared in his hand.

I have no Anima. Realizing the source of his agony, Wolf took out an oblong wineskin from his holdingring, this time screaming for real as his soul cracked further. He chugged like a savage; like a deranged beggar, suckling the divine nectar.

After the first gulp, Wolf’s headache passed. The tonic relieved Anima deficiency, but Wolf’s guts still rioted, demanding sustenance.

He stored the wineskin and buried his face in a Lioncrab’s iced pincer, tearing the biggest piece he could fit into his mouth. He did not bother chewing. Instead, Wolf swallowed the frozen meat whole. Choking on pale crustacean flesh, he thanked his idiocy for the enhanced body he had, and muscles strong enough to endure such an act of violence against one’s digestive tract.

Wolf did not taste the Monster Beast’s premium aroma. He only sensed his brain freeze from the frosty meat before taking a second bite.

This time Wolf had the presence of mind to chew. The initial moment of mindless gluttony had passed, and he could focus on the reality of his predicament. As he did, his mind belatedly answered his onslaught of questions.

I am Wolf Hillman, father of Sky Hillman. I am Wolf Hillman, Marquess of Fermion empire, Truthspeaker of the third order, trapped in this alien world after exterminating a demon incursion. For a moment, he recalled his fall and grit his teeth, but did not linger on it. Instead, he recollected how he reached his wretched state.

He shuddered when remembering the soul-destroying pressure he endured inside his Palace of Echoes. The struggle, the creaking of walls and pillars, and finally, the point of near collapse he had reached. The memories remained hazy. It was his Mental Aspects who went through the torment, yet those manifestations of his soul did not go through physical danger and only experienced the pain of soul being sundered.

At least, that was Wolf’s impression.

My soul is in a state similar to Father’s and Mother’s when I was born. Luckily, I have Big Brother’s wine. Otherwise, I’d probably go insane and die; or I would turn into a dreaming living corpse until my Robur wasted away, and I reentered reincarnation.

Still, looking at his elegant hands, clenching frozen crab like vises, Wolf had to smile. Based on my hands and forearms, I’m a meter-eighty tall.

Then his smile twisted in disgust. I never wanted to eat like this again.

He sucked in a cold breath, preparing for the tearing pain about to assail his soul, and stored the chilled food which he had prepared to cook for his loved ones years ago.

It didn’t hurt! Wolf grinned. Big Brother’s wine is the best soul medicine in this world.

Next, long strips of jerky appeared in Wolf’s hand. After the last incident, he stocked up for the maddening pangs of hunger. He swallowed the crustacean ice mush and stuffed his mouth with dried Monster Beast flesh before willing a skillet into his hand and a heatingstone onto the tree hollow’s floor. Several moments later, Emeraldcolt lard sizzled, releasing a sweet, herbal fragrance.

While preparing food, Wolf considered his immediate and long-term plans. I must find a rift and return home within five months; before two worlds separate again. That’s my primary goal. I need to burn all my Vis, and internalize this world’s energy to eliminate the blood haze. Otherwise, every manling and Monster Beast I encounter will irrationally loathe me.

I also have to get my hunger under control, otherwise it could hamper me. Last time it lasted eight months, but I only had to gain a quarter of a ton back then. Based on my body’s growth, I’ll have to gain twice as much weight this time, maybe more.

He shuddered. Maniacally stuffing myself like that is disgusting, conspicuous and time consuming. I must figure something out.

Unfortunately, Wolf had little choice, save to eat. The only thing he could influence was the quality of food he ingested. By focusing on the meat of more powerful Monster Beasts, he could reduce the total volume he ate, but not the weight.

Wolf sorted his memories and what he knew about Bear Tribe’s territory. He decided to continue heading west, where Hare Tribe’s lands lay. They were roughly as powerful as the bears and it stood to reason they either controlled a Treasure Rift, or vied over one with their neighbors.

Wolf recalled what male Bear Tribe warriors wore and checked whether he had anything similar in the holdingrings he’d claimed from their leaders’ corpses.

Just splitting my mind to cook and browse several holdingrings hurts. I dare not imagine what would happen if I cast a spell, let alone perceive this world’s Truths. I’d likely drop dead. Wolf tsked, hoping he would not stay around long enough to test this scenario.

***

While Wolf prepared his obligatory five kilos of meat, under that very moon and the same silently gazing stars, a sleeping young woman experienced a rude awakening.

“Mmmhm!” Kira tried to scream as a calloused hand braced her mouth. Her tent was dark, and no guards patrolled the aspiring warriors’ area. Even if she screamed, she doubted anyone would notice it.

Another hand struck her on the neck, trying to knock her unconscious. They failed. The blow merely made Kira’s head spin.

Pretend you fainted. She realized that staying awake while acting unconscious was in her best interest. Her captors might drop their guard and give her enough time to scream.

They didn’t. As soon as Kira’s muscles relaxed, the kidnaper stuffed a rag in her mouth and secured it with a leather cord.

Then her assailant lit an oil lamp. Through the crack between her eyelids, Kira saw two warriors wearing her tribe’s elk hide hunting clothes. One held her, while the other woman fumbled with an overstuffed bag. She took out another leather strap and passed it to her shorter sister-in-arms.

Kira did not resist as the smaller woman roughly flipped her on her belly. The coarse bristles, which massaged her bare feet with each step, scratched at her face and tore at her sensitive chest. Then a leather cord bit into Kira’s wrists, cutting off her blood flow as her kidnapper tied her hands behind her back.

“Should we kill her?” the flabby one with tightly bound, large breasts whispered, taking out yet another bag from her hunting pack.

The skinny shorty clicked her tongue.

“Matriarch Mona wants her alive,” she said, stunning Kira.

Matriarch Mona? Mona is the matriarch’s younger sister. Is this a coup? Kira immediately connected the dots. She did not recognize these two, but there was no reason a teen like her should know the matriarch’s younger sibling’s henchmen.

Did they go after me because of Mother? Will they use me to blackmail her into betraying her mistress? Would Mother betray the matriarch for my sake? Kira answered the redundant question with a resounding ‘no’. Her talent for cultivation was decent amongst the members of Hare Tribe, but not top-notch. She was like her mother, brains over brawn; a strategist who would not get far without enough resources. However, her brain was worth investing in. In the previous generation, Matriarch Ronit had made that investment, buying Kira’s mother and her undying loyalty.

While Kira’s mind raced, the warriors tossed her into the hide bag. She grunted, making a sound she imagined an unconscious person would make. She made a futile effort against inhaling the stench of animals and caked blood inside her claustrophobic prison, then ignored the odor through willpower.

Mother would rather die than betray the matriarch. Then, what do they want? They mentioned killing me. That means they don’t need a hostage…

For a moment, Kira could not make sense of her situation. In that moment of confusion, one of her captors grabbed her calf and pricked her foot with a knife. The wound was light; barely enough to draw blood.

Kira yelped, but the rag muffled her voice. Why did you do that now? Why not hurt me while I was outside the bag?

The kidnappers shook her leg, spreading traces of blood. Then Kira became weightless before crashing against the big woman’s sturdy back. A moment later, the warriors dashed.

Kira bounced and smacked against the rock-solid muscles with every step the warrior made. Her foot throbbed as blood trickled from the wound, but it did not pool inside the leather sack. Instead, it dripped through several convenient holes.

Blood is draining through the hole, leaving a trail… They want Mother to follow? This is a trap!