The Lord of Veins | Shadow Slave

The Howler given a directive, set into the forest. The icy air was much harsher at night, but it couldn't hinder beasts acclimated to such an environment like itself.

Breaking through the tree line, the Howler's piercing gaze swept across the snow-draped forest. 

Silence.

Not a creature in sight.

Yet, the Veinborne didn't waver—orders were absolute, and obedience was its instinct. 

Trudging deeper into the wilderness, the creature's clawed feet crunched through the thick snow. The trees surrounding the Howler seemed to loom closer, becoming much denser, while the light of the moon struggled to pierce the canopy. The Howler's head swiveled, its keen eyes surveying the darkness, searching. The silence was suffocating. No distant rustling of the wind against the trees' branches, nor was there any scurrying prey. 

Then, it caught something that made it halt abruptly. 

A scent, faint but unmistakable. The Howler halted abruptly, lifting its head. it inhaled deeply, its nostrils flaring as it chased the burning scent in crisp night air. Its head raised higher to the star-pierced sky. 

A breath escaped its jaws, forming a cloud of white in the frigid air before it moved.

Even with only a single arm, the Howler scaled the nearest tree, its powerful legs driving it upward while its clawed feet latched onto the rough bark. Reaching the peak, its clawed hand clung to the swaying trunk. From its vantage point, the endless canopy of blanketed treetops stretched out before it. Then, its eyes settled upon it, a thin wisp of smoke coiled from between the trees into the crisp night.

Its mission clear, the creature's muscles coiling like a spring. Then it leapt.

The Howler's claws dug into the rough bark as it slammed into a tree, barely slowing before launching itself toward the next. Snow scattered from the branches with each leap as it weaved through the forest, steadily closing the distance to the thin curl of smoke rising in the distance.

After a long while, the creature finally neared its target, now only just a couple thousand feet away. With a final leap, it dropped from the treetops, landing in the snow with a low crouch to absorb the impact.

But the Howler quickly realized it landed in right behind the very thing it was hunting for. The crash of its body landing atop the snow robbed it of the element of surprise.

The Veinborne, accepting this fact, responded. The Howler growled, saliva dripping from its fangs as it took a slow deliberate step forward. 

But suddenly something changed within the Elk.

A sickening crack caused by the elk's head twisting in a full one-eighty to face the Veinborne.

More cracks followed as its body contorted, bones snapping, muscles realigning. Its limbs stretched unnaturally as the beast slowly rose onto two legs. Its antlers were twisted and crooked, its face and eyes morphing into something more fitting for a predator than prey.

The Howler's glowing sockets followed as the Elk rose until finally the creature stood bipedally, towering over the Scourged Howler. 

The Elk Beast let out an intimating horrifying grunt, that sounded more like a blaring shout. 

Just like in the battle against the Blizzard Brute, or the fight with the once-petrified Monstrosity, the Howler didn't retreat. And now, facing the Elk Beast, it was no different—especially with such a clear directive.

Despite its injuries, the Veinborne struck first, lunging with its clawed hand toward the Dormant Beast's neck.

The Elk Beast responded, swiping a gnarled limb at the Howler—only for its forearm to be cleaved clean off, by the Howler's crimson blood-ice claws.

A high-tier Dormant might win three out of ten fights against a low-tier Awakened, and if the Awakened was severely injured, the odds would tilt further in the Dormant's favor. However, that only applied if the Howler didn't possess [Winter's Repose]—an attribute that strengthened it in the frigid embrace of the winter snow.

It stood zero chance.

Despite its monstrous transformation, despite its grotesque attempts at striking fear into the Veinborne, the Elk Beast fell behind in raw power and speed. It was overpowered in only mere moments.

Pinned beneath the Howler's clawed foot, the Elk Beast thrashed, but with its limbs scattered across the snow how could it possibly fight back?

It howled at the Veinborne as it looked up at its glowing sockets. The Veinborne stared it down, its glowing sockets filled not with hatred—but with something far crueler. 

Sickening joy.

Then, with a final, merciless crunch, it crushed the Elk Beast's neck under its foot.

Silence.

The Howler bathed in the sudden silence. 

Wounded and Victorious.

***

Under the vast night sky, a few hours later, Zerin sat outside the cave, his patience thinning. He leaned against the barricade created by logs strung together. 

"My innate ability is the greatest curse of them all." 

His breath formed small clouds in the air as he muttered to himself, his eyelids heavy with fatigue.

The wind howled, but something gnawed at him more than this cold.

"It's taking too long…" 

Tsk.

He shook his head. "What am I saying?" This region is practically void of Nightmare creatures." 

And that was what troubled him.

From the moment they neared this cave, the threats had all disappeared. it made no sense. If anything, being closer to the Pit should have made this place more dangerous.

"It's like a graveyard out here." 

Then, it clicked.

"That's exact reason is because of that Pit."

Zerin's brow furrowed. The Nightmare creatures weren't simply absent without a cause; they were avoiding this area entirely. His mind raced back to the Howler's reaction of petrified monstrosity, which further corroborated his belief bringing it out of the area of grand superstition into a truth. 

"It was like pulling teeth to get it to quiet down. It only followed me because of my authority over it." 

He stood weakly, eyes locked on the forest where the Veinborne had disappeared.

"That thing is still out there… But why hasn't all hell broken loose?" 

If that monstrosity was a mindless and destructive as it proved itself to be, why was this place not already in ruin? Why was everything the same six months after he had freed it?

Zerin rose to his feet, as quick as he could his eyes focused on the forest where the Veinborne disappeared. He squinted to peer deeper into the forest from a distance with no avail. With a sigh, he let up.

"If the Howler dies, the spell will notify me." 

For now, in his current condition he could only wait. 

Just as he slumped back down against the barricade, Zerin saw it.

A silhouette.

Then the details came into view once it broke the tree line. It was the Scourged Howler, and it was dragging a fresh kill behind it.

Zerin's heart pounded.

"It took down something that big… while wounded?"

A slow grin crept onto his face.

"This creature is even more capable than I could've imagined!"

As his fanged ally approached, Zerin's eyes followed the Veinborne as it pulled the slain Elk Beast to Zerin's side. Zerin nodded, his voice holding a unique admiration for the Howler.

"Great job…" 

Zerin could only let out those words of praise barely holding back from his surprise exploding within. He summoned his sword, carving into the Elk Beast's flesh, poking around in its innards until he found them. Six small Dormant cores swirling with clouded light.

"It's was a Dormant… But still…" Zerin lifted his head to look up at the creature, before seeing its icy gaze staring back him. 

He focused back onto the cores where he absorbed them. It felt like the energy was coursing through his very veins with each core consumed. 

He searched his runes to see the amount he has gathered.

Soul Fragments: [108/1000]

"One-fourth of the way there…"

Turning back to the carcass, he sliced away portions of meat, storing them in a spare pot. 

When he looked up again, the Howler remained still, waiting.

It held itself back, eyes fixed on the carcass, but not taking a bite.

Awaiting permission.

Zerin exhaled. "You can have the rest." 

It may not have been the best decision, but he preferred to keep his strongest weapon in top condition, even if it meant sacrificing resources.

The Howler sunk into the carcass without hesitation. Blood dripped from its fangs as it tore into the Elk Beast with a ravenous hunger.

Zerin watched as it fed, crinkling his nose slightly. The glowing blue sockets of the Howler reflected faintly off the blood-soaked flesh as it buried its head in the open cavity of the creature.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight before him. Looking down at the Howler, he could only imagine what he must have appeared like to Evan—the closest thing to a monster.

But as he watched the Howler, a strange detail caught his attention. Something was embedded deep into its shoulder, yet the creature was completely oblivious to this fact.

Zerin narrowed his eyes, walking stepping cautiously behind the Veinborne. 

A jagged piece of wood jutted from the Howler's shoulder blade, its surface etched with sharp, runic-like carvings. Even while the wound was fresh, the beast showed no sign of pain or acknowledgement. It was as if the object was merely a harmless splinter.

It was a wooden ritualistic barb.

Zerin's breath hitched, his body filling with unease.

His gaze snapped toward the trees, scanning the shadows between the trunks. His voice came low, tense—

"There's something out there… in the woods."