Chapter 155: Panic In The Pack
Days passed.
The Nova Sanctum drifted on, black steel cutting through clouds, its cannons humming with steady rhythm. Below it, villages turned to ruin one after another. Farms, towns, forts—it didn’t matter. Each blast from its belly left nothing but smoking craters.
And still, Lucian did not come out.
His quarters stayed locked. The hum of his presence remained behind the door, like a storm trapped in glass. No one tried to open it.
Lucy and Karl grew restless.
One night, when the Sanctum hovered over a cluster of settlements, Karl stretched his arms, claws sparking faint fire. "I need to move. Can’t sit in this tin can forever."
Lucy stood by the hangar doors, Infernal Eclipse strapped across her back. Her face was calm, but her eyes flickered faint heat. "You mean you want to kill something."
Karl grinned, sharp. "Same thing."
The hangar bay opened.
The two dropped into the night together.
The first settlement never saw them coming. Karl landed in the center square, his flames bursting outward in a shockwave. Wooden homes split apart in a blaze, monsters scattering with screams. He laughed through the fire, his claws tearing through the first who dared rush him.
Lucy moved like shadow beside him. Her sword cut arcs of black fire, each swing splitting walls and beasts alike. Her flames didn’t roar like Karl’s—they whispered, but everything they touched turned to ash. She advanced with calm steps, her blade slicing without hesitation, her cloak trailing behind like smoke.
Together, they tore through the streets.
Monsters scrambled to raise barriers, glyphs glowing along the edges of the village, but Karl crashed straight through, his fists hammering the wards until they cracked apart. Lucy followed, cutting down the ones who tried to retreat.
By dawn, the settlement was gone.
They didn’t stop there.
Over the next days, whenever the Sanctum slowed above a cluster of villages, Karl and Lucy would descend. They called it "stretching their legs," but it was slaughter. The ground split where Karl’s flames struck, his laughter echoing through burning streets. Lucy’s sword carved silent storms, her expression steady even as blood sprayed.
To the beasts who survived, it was nightmare. To the two of them, it was training.
"Faster," Lucy said once, her blade slicing through the last of a warband, her fire still dripping from its edge.
Karl, blood streaked across his face, laughed through his heaving chest. "You’re still too serious."
"And you’re still sloppy."
He grinned wider, but the cut on his ribs told him she wasn’t wrong.
Far away, the Wolf King’s nation stirred.
It lay in the east, across forests thick as seas, mountains jagged and black, rivers running fast with silver light. The Wolfkin had always been watchful—hunters and warriors bound in tribes, but united under one lord.
Now, they were restless.
At the heart of their land rose their capital: a fortress carved into the mountain’s side, its walls black stone etched with claw-marks from generations past. Towers rose like spears, wards glowing faint across their surface, binding the air with thick magic.
The gates groaned day and night as soldiers marched in and out. Wolfkin clad in black armor carried spears, axes, and blades, their eyes sharp, their teeth bared. Clans from the outlying forests poured into the city, answering the summons of their king.
Above the walls, shamans chanted, claws pressed into the stone as they traced glyphs with blood. The wards flared brighter, webs of silver light spreading outward into the mountains. Pack beasts were chained at the gates—hulking wolves the size of houses, their eyes burning red.
The city was tense.
Every howl from the mountains was answered by a chorus of wolves along the walls. Every clang of hammer and anvil echoed sharp through the night, smiths forging spears and plating claws. The air itself seemed heavy, charged with fear and fury both.
Inside the King’s Hall, the Wolf King stood.
He was vast, his frame broad, his mane silver streaked with black. His eyes gleamed cold, his fangs sharp even in silence. Around him, clan chiefs gathered, their voices sharp and angry.
"They are moving east!" one barked. "Taragon’s land is gone—flattened, burned! You’ve all heard the whispers. His head was taken."
"The wards will hold," another said, though his voice shook. "Our walls are not weak. Our packs are not prey."
The Wolf King raised one clawed hand, and the hall silenced. His voice came low, steady, but each word carried weight.
"Taragon was Beta. His wards, his armies, his pride. All gone. Do not speak to me of walls." His claws dug faint into the stone at his side. "If he fell, so can we."
The chiefs shifted uneasily.
One of the shamans stepped forward, her fur matted with ash, her voice sharp. "Then what do we do? If this unknown force comes, do we wait? Do we bow?"
The Wolf King’s fangs bared. His roar shook the hall, his aura pressing down like a storm. "We do not bow." His eyes gleamed, his claws curling. "We fortify. We hunt. We watch the skies. If they come, they will not find sheep—they will find wolves."
The chiefs roared in answer, voices echoing off stone, their fists slamming against their chests.
But even in the roar, the fear lingered.
The stories from the south had spread fast. Villages gone overnight. Settlements flattened with fire that fell from the sky. Warriors torn apart by a handful of figures who descended like ghosts. Taragon’s corpse dragged from his own throne.
The shamans whispered of curses. The soldiers muttered of gods.
And above them all, the wards pulsed brighter, stretching silver lines through the forests, weaving protection as tight as chains.
Still, the wolves howled louder each night.
They knew something was coming.
And when it came, the wards would either hold—or their kingdom would burn like the Lion’s.
Back aboard the Nova Sanctum, Karl leaned against the hangar railing, his claws bandaged but his grin wide. "Think they’re shaking yet?"
Lucy stood beside him, her sword strapped across her back, her face unreadable. She looked down at the burning land below, her voice calm.
"They will."
The Sanctum drifted on, silent and merciless.
The wolves waited, their walls glowing bright in the night.
And the storm drew closer.