Holy Light Village. Will thought: I'm back here again.

A colossal Holy Light Tree stood at the village center, its brown trunk and silver-white leaves weaving a tapestry of light and shadow. A circle was carved into the trunk; tree sap seeped from its center, hardening into glistening teardrops.

Did it always look like this? Will couldn't quite remember.

After all, forty years had passed since his last visit.

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the white leaves, cutting memories into the shape of yesterday.

Back then, I was so naive. A commoner disguised as a Seer had scared me out of my wits, forcing me to tuck my tail between my legs and flee Holy Light Village in disgrace.

Will shook his head with a bitter smile, recalling his childish humiliation.

Forty years, gone in the blink of an eye.

That naive little pup had grown into the Wolf King, while that commoner—who'd worked his way up to Frostwall Clerk—had finally fallen to a wolf blade.

"Once, I fled this village as a loser. Today, I return as a victor."

Will lifted his head, defiantly staring into the sunlight he loathed, and declared proudly, "From this day forward, this village shall be called Nightfall Village!"

The Ghost Riders stood behind him like black towers, their aura menacing yet as silent as stone.

The Ghost Riders couldn't speak; his proclamation met no response, and the Wolf King felt a flicker of disappointment.

But he quickly grew accustomed to the inconvenience.

If I'd brought Wolf Guards instead, they wouldn't be this boring.

Yet their loyalty was fickle. The Ghost Riders, lacking souls, would never betray me.

That was critical for this mission!

So far, Will was thoroughly satisfied with the Ghost Riders' performance. He'd led them on a two-day forced march day and night from the Frostwall to Holy Light Village. Even though his demands were brutal, the Ghost Riders had maintained eerie silence—not a single one fell behind, not a single complaint was uttered. It was the most flawless march of his command career.

Compared to the volatile wolves, the Ghost Riders were truly different.

As for their minor flaws? They didn't matter. As long as I catch him, nothing else counts.

Will had rushed to raid Holy Light Village for one sole purpose: to capture the Seer.

His resolve came from the secret letter sent by the wolf mole.

After the Blood Moon Battle, Orek would travel to Holy Light Village to draw mysterious power from the Holy Light Tree and restore his lost Holy Light.

Will stared at the soft glow refracted by the tree's silver leaves, a wave of indescribable disgust rising in his chest.

The Holy Light Tree is worshipped as a human deity, said to carry the will and power of the gods. But to me, it's just an ugly, overgrown freak of a tree—nothing impressive!

Orek wants to restore his Holy Light? That will never happen!

"Seer! Come out and face me!"

The Wolf King roared suddenly. A cloud of black qi erupted from his palm, coalescing into a spear tipped with wolf fangs. He drove the spear straight into the Holy Light Tree.

The moment the spear pierced the trunk's circle, a crisp sound like shattering crystal rang out. Charred cracks spread like spiderwebs—the Holy Light Tree crumbled with a deafening crash, shattering into countless glowing shards wreathed in black flame.

Will watched the light leaves dance across the sky, slowly retracting the wolf spear into his palm.

I must capture the Seer with my own hands!

For a thousand years, only Wolf Kings have met their ends beneath the Frostwall. No Frostwall Commander has ever been captured by us!

If I can take Orek alive, the blow to humanity will be as devastating as the fall of the Frostwall itself—another monument to the Wolf King's era!

Will scanned the village.

A few thatched cottages, a gray wooden hall, a stone well, a sheep pen… but no sheep, and no people.

Where did the villagers go? Could they have gotten advance warning and evacuated? A flicker of unease stirred in Will. If the Seer had laid a trap here, I'm walking right into it.

The Wolf King glanced instinctively at the Ghost Riders behind him, then relaxed.

The Frostwall Legion just suffered a crushing defeat. I marched day and night to get here—they couldn't have had time to set an ambush.

Worst case, even if humans did lay a trap, so what? I have a hundred Ghost Riders. Can they defeat me? Unless there are a thousand Divine Folk hiding here—and that's impossible; it would mean every Divine Folk on the continent is gathered here.

Most importantly, I decided to raid Holy Light Village only after receiving the secret letter. The Seer could never have prepared for this!

With that thought, Will's confidence returned fully. He said in a deep voice, "Hayward, find Orek and drag him out. We need to end this quickly, then head to Awakening City!"

The Ghost Rider stepped forward, his iron boots crunching through the mud with a dull thud.

"Mmm."

Hayward's blue eyes flared with strange light. Two streams of fluorescent light slithered across the ground like living things, splitting the soil into fine cracks wherever they passed.

Soon, beneath the glow of the blue light, a faint trail of footprints appeared between two thatched cottages, leading straight to the small woods on the village edge.

Found him!

Will sneered. "Orek, you can't escape my grasp!"

Brown trunks like pillars, white leaves like silver.

Sunlight filtered through the Holy Light Tree's branches, cut into golden shards by the leaves, and fell onto the forest floor, forming patterns that looked like ancient runes.

When Will saw those glowing, eerie symbols, a primal tremor ran through his veins.

What the hell is this!

Unease washed over him again. He clenched his paws, dark sparks flickering at his fingertips.

Dammit, I'll cut down all these damned trees!

Just as he was about to strike, a song drifted from the woods:

The red moon tears the night sky, wolves step from their dens.

Bronze talismans crumble beneath wolf claws, frost magic clings to evil fangs.

The knight's sword jammed in the third wolf's ribs, the hunter's musket pierced the seventh wolf's pupil.

Red moon, red moon, red moon.

The magician's staff burns a mark in the snow, the Seer's fragments drift in the air.

Wolf howls echo from the mountains, villagers offered to disaster.

Wolves, wolves, wolves.

The ethereal song was like thousands of sunlit silver threads, rippling from the depths of the forest and wrapping around the Wolf King and the Ghost Riders.

There's someone here!

Will's body jolted, as if summoned by some force. He forgot about cutting down trees and followed the song into the dappled depths of the woods.

Another colossal Holy Light Tree stood there, its branches shading a pool of clear, cold water.

Beneath the tree, a middle-aged man in a black robe sat cross-legged on a boulder beside the pool, eyes closed in meditation.

Orek!

We finally meet!

The Wolf King had fought the Seer for years, but had only ever seen his portrait. During the Wolfhold Battle half a year ago, Will had clashed with a group of Divine Folk, but he'd never been sure if Orek was among them.

As old rivals, Will had imagined their meeting countless times. But the real encounter was so sudden, so understated. To his surprise, he felt little emotion—as if he was meeting an old friend he hadn't seen in years, familiar yet strange.

"Wolf King. Greetings." The Seer opened his eyes and spoke calmly.