The direwolf leapt, a hulking mass of gray fur and fury, its claws tearing through the air, jaws wide enough to clamp around Fin’s head and then some. Snow sprayed beneath its charge, glinting faintly in the dim forest light filtering through the canopy. Fin’s grin stretched wide, wild and unrestrained, his storm-gray eyes burning with a reckless joy that pulsed through every muscle. He stepped forward, the air humming faintly as he gripped Thunderfang, a jagged blade of energy, raw and buzzing in his hand. He thrust it into the beast’s path, meeting its lunge head-on.
The blade sank deep, carving through the direwolf’s thick hide where his tantō had skidded uselessly before. A hiss of scorched fur and bubbling blood filled the air, sharp against the cold. The beast’s howl ripped through the forest, a jagged cry that bounced off the frost-crusted pines, its bulk slamming into the snow at Fin’s feet. Blood splattered across the white expanse, steaming where it hit, and Fin laughed, a loud, exhilarated whoop that shattered the stillness.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” he shouted, his pulse hammering in his ears, chest heaving with the rush. The fight coursed through him, raw, messy, a clash he lived for. He bounced on his toes, the tantō sheathed across his back a forgotten weight, his mind locked on the power he’d shaped mid-battle. His hands itched, restless, and he couldn’t resist, he swung Thunderfang again, aiming at a sapling a few feet away. The blade sheared through the thin trunk with a sizzle, sending splinters flying into the snow. “Ha! Look at that, cuts like nothing!”
The direwolf twitched, its yellow eyes flickering with a last gasp of life. Snow clung to its matted fur, steam rising from the gash Thunderfang had torn across its chest. With a guttural snarl, it hauled itself up, lunging once more, claws swiping an inch from Fin’s ribs. His grin held, fierce and unyielding, as he dodged, boots skidding on the icy ground. The beast was fast, too fast for something bleeding out, and Fin loved every second, the close call fueling the fire in his gut.
He swung Thunderfang in a tight arc, the energy pulsing hot in his grip. A jolt ripped through the direwolf’s flank, splitting hide and muscle with a crack that echoed through the trees. The beast stumbled, its snarl fading to a wet rasp, and crumpled into the snow, limbs twitching once before going still. Blood pooled beneath it, dark and warm against the white, the forest hushing around the kill.
Fin spun to Kilian, chest still heaving, his grin wide enough to split his face. “Told you I could handle it,” he said, voice rough with triumph, letting Thunderfang fade as the mana settled into his core. He flexed his hands, the thrill still buzzing in his fingers, and couldn’t help himself, he summoned the blade again, slashing at a fallen branch nearby. The wood split clean, the cut edges smoking faintly. “This thing’s unreal, I could carve up anything!”
Kilian p ushed off the tree he’d been leaning against, the trunk groaning as it straightened, and clapped slowly, deliberate, measured claps that rang through the quiet. His dark eyes glinted with pride and a brother’s tease, his stubbled jaw set in a smirk. “Not bad, kid,” he said, tone light but sharp around the edges. “Took you long enough, though.”
Fin snorted, planting his hands on his hips. “Long enough? I dropped it in two hits!” He jerked a thumb at the direwolf’s corpse, blood still seeping into the snow, then at the splintered branch and sapling stump. “That’s not ‘long enough.’ That’s clean, and this thing’s a monster. Better than your clunky sword any day.”
“Barely,” Kilian fired back, smirk widening as he stepped closer, boots crunching over the frost. “You’re sloppy, Fin. That first hit was a mess, lucky it didn’t bounce off. And the second? You were tripping over your own feet. If it’d been faster, I’d be hauling you back in chunks.”
Fin waved him off, grin unshaken, defiance flaring hot in his chest. “Luck’s got nothing to do with it. That’s skill, my skill. Made it right here, mid-fight.” He tapped his temple, then his chest, where Convergent Resonance thrummed, feeding his core with a steady drip of mana. “You saw it. Cuts better than anything you’ve got.”
Kilian chuckled, low and warm, but his gaze shifted, scanning the shadows beyond the trees with a glint of challenge. “Yeah, I saw it. That skill is powerful for a Tier One, not bad for a runt. But let’s see what a few tiers really look like.”
Fin tilted his head, curiosity slicing through his high. “What’s that supposed to…”
A growl cut him off, low and menacing, rolling from the underbrush like the ground itself was waking up. Fin’s grin flashed, hand twitching toward summoning Thunderfang again, but Kilian raised a palm, stopping him cold. “Wait,” he said, voice steady, a quiet command that pinned Fin in place. The forest erupted.
Four direwolves burst from the shadows, bigger than Fin’s kill, their fur bristling with raw menace, eyes glowing like coals in the fading light. They charged as one, a wall of snarling death, claws tearing gouges in the snow, their breath steaming in the cold. Fin’s heart kicked hard, his grin widening, more to fight, more to test, but Kilian moved first.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
He stepped forward, stance loose, almost bored, and mana flared, a blistering wave of heat that thickened the air around him. His hand flicked up, fingers splaying, and four beams of flame shot out, precise and merciless. They hit the direwolves mid-leap, and the beasts were gone. No howls, no thrashing, just a flash, a faint hiss, and ash drifting down like gray snow. Their bodies vanished, reduced to nothing in an instant, leaving steaming puddles where they’d been. The forest went dead quiet, the air heavy with the tang of charred earth and melted snow.
Fin’s jaw dropped, his grin faltering as he stared at the empty space. “What the…” He blinked, shock locking him in place for a heartbeat, then spun on Kilian, laughing, a loud, incredulous bark. “You showoff! Did you have to flex that hard?”
“Tier One versus Tier Three,” Kilian said, lowering his hand, his smirk cutting through the quiet as he met Fin’s glare. “You’re a brawler, raw, scrappy, took two hits to down one. I’m a killer, refined, over before they could blink. That’s the gap, little brother.”
Fin’s grin snapped back, sharp and defiant, though his eyes flickered with grudging respect. “Yeah, well, give me a year, and I’ll wipe them out faster than that, without that little fancy hand-wave of yours,” he shot back, punching the air. “Still, that was ridiculous. You’re such a prick sometimes.”
Kilian’s laugh sliced through the cold, rough and genuine. “Keep dreaming, runt. You’ve got the guts, though, might even catch up if you don’t trip over yourself first.” He kicked the direwolf’s corpse, his tone shifting, serious now. “Heard from a friend in town, Northwell’s not happy about your Tier One announcement.”
Fin’s grin faded, a scowl creasing his face. “What’s their problem?”
“Pride,” Kilian said, locking eyes with him. “And you’re a threat. Gregor’s boy, Gregory, hit Tier One at thirteen, bragged he was the youngest. You smashed that at ten. They’re not the type to let it slide.”
Fin’s scowl twisted into a half-smile, excitement simmering beneath his skin. “Good. Let them come. We’ll tear them apart.”
Kilian clapped his shoulder, grip firm and steady. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I’m here for monsters not people”

The trek back stretched long and heavy, the direwolf’s bulk dragging a bloody smear through the snow behind them. Fin gripped one paw, his tantō jostling across his back with every step, while Kilian hauled the other side, his longsword swaying at his hip. The forest loomed quiet around them, shadows lengthening as dusk bled gold and crimson across the peaks. Fin’s mind churned, not just with the fight’s rush or Kilian’s insane kill, but with Northwell’s shadow creeping closer. His grin crept back, eager, his hands flexing at his sides, itching for another fight. The adrenaline of his fight with the wolf still coursing through him.
They broke the tree line as night settled in, the Aodh estate’s stone walls rising ahead, torchlight flickering along the ramparts like restless eyes. But the air carried a weight, horses snorting, steel clinking, voices murmuring in clipped, careful tones. Fin slowed, his grin faltering, as Kilian’s hold tightened on the direwolf’s paw. Cahira’s voice cut through the dusk from the gate, sharp and guarded, edged with a tension Fin knew too well.
A retinue stood before the entrance, six figures in dark cloaks, their mounts pawing the snow with restless hooves. Gregor Northwell sat at their head, broad and rigid atop a warhorse, his gray eyes steady beneath a weathered brow that furrowed faintly in the torchlight. His voice rolled out, smooth and measured, as he addressed Donovan and Cahira, who stood flanked by two house guards. “A fine evening, Lord and Lady Aodh. We come in peace, only to honor your son’s rise to Tier One. A rare feat worth celebrating, wouldn’t you say?”
Beside him, Gregory sat on a lean steed, his sharp features set in a thin, practiced smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Dark hair framed a gaze that flicked to Fin with quiet scorn, fourteen, Tier One for a year, and carrying himself like he’d already won a dozen fights. His hands rested steady on the reins, but there was a tightness in his shoulders, a coiled readiness Fin could feel from yards away.
Gregor turned, spotting Fin and Kilian trudging up with the direwolf’s corpse, his smile widening, too smooth, too calculated, a mask stretched over something colder. “The prodigy himself,” he said, voice warm but eyes glinting in the firelight. “Tier One at ten, a marvel. I’d wager my Gregory could learn a thing or two from such a talent.” He paused, tilting his head slightly, his tone light but laced with intent. “Perhaps a friendly duel? A chance to share skills between our houses, nothing serious, just a bit of sport to mark the occasion.”
Cahira stepped forward, her braid swaying against her back, her hand resting near the hilt of her blade. “A duel?” she said, voice cool and clipped, suspicion threading through every syllable. “Your peace comes with strings, Northwell. What’s the game?”
Gregor dipped his head, unruffled, his smile holding steady. “Only the strings of friendship, my lady. Gregory’s had a year to hone his Tier, surely a few days won’t dim your son’s shine. It’s a gesture, nothing more.”
Donovan shifted beside her, his broad frame tense, his voice a low rumble. “A gesture with teeth, I’d say. We’ll hear you out, but don’t think us fools.”
Kilian muttered under his breath, “Conniving bastard,” letting the direwolf’s paw drop into the snow with a heavy thud that sent a puff of frost into the air.
Fin’s grin flared back, fierce and taunting, as he squared his shoulders and met Gregory’s stare across the distance. “Anytime, princess,” he called, loud and clear, his voice dripping with challenge. “Let’s see if your kid’s year was worth a damn, I’ll take him apart in half the time it took me to bag this thing.” He jerked his head toward the direwolf’s corpse, his hand twitching at his side, itching for a fight but keeping it still, just a smirk and a promise hanging in the air.
Gregor’s smile tightened at the edges, a flicker of irritation breaking through his polish, while Gregory’s thin grin vanished, his eyes narrowing into slits. Cahira shot Fin a sharp, warning glance, her jaw tight, but his grin didn’t budge, the thrill of a fight already coiling tight in his gut, ready to spring.