At night, in a particular forest in the kingdom of Pyros, a figure moved at great speed. If someone had been observing, they might have mistaken it for an animal. It was Fenris, running on all fours like a beast.


    This was possible due to his unique nature. His legs could alter their formation, allowing his knees to bend slightly backward, enhancing both his agility and speed.


    Running in the forest at night was an almost indescribable feeling for Fenris. The cool night air rushed past him, caressing his skin, while the earthy scent of the forest filled his nostrils. The moonlight filtering through the canopy created a dappled pattern on the forest floor, guiding his path.


    He felt free—truly free—as if he had left all his problems behind. In these moments, nothing else existed but the thrill, the excitement, and the raw power that came with running like a beast under the moonlight.


    "Ah, what a rush!" Fenris thought to himself. He had been running for hours and didn’t feel exhausted at all.


    "Okay, time to gain a little altitude," Fenris said aloud. He jumped, landing on a tree branch and digging his claws into it, then leaped to another branch a considerable distance away.


    He repeated this process, leaping from tree to tree with no fear. Even if he fell, he wouldn’t sustain any injuries. The ground beneath him blurred as he raced through the trees, each stride carrying him deeper into the heart of the forest.


    More hours passed. The night sky gradually lightened, and the moon disappeared beyond the horizon. Fenris landed on the ground, a look of disappointment crossing his face. His fun was over.


    "Running always makes me hungry. I hope there’s a deer nearby," Fenris said aloud. Perhaps he should have been concerned that he was talking to himself, but years of traveling alone had left him accustomed to it.


    Fenris closed his eyes, focusing on his other senses. He relied primarily on his ears to pick up the faintest sounds of the forest, hoping to catch the rustle of potential prey.


    As he stood there listening, his mind wandered back to the feeling of the wind in his hair, the thrill of running as though there were no tomorrow, and the pure, unadulterated freedom of the night. This was his escape, and he knew he would return to it again and again, as long as the moon hung in the sky.


    Then he heard it—the rustling of leaves and the faint sound of something drinking water from a pond. It was light and delicate. A deer.


    "Got you," Fenris murmured. The sound came from the west. He moved toward it slowly, ensuring he didn’t scare off his breakfast. Using the trees for cover, he finally spotted it—a deer with antlers, drinking from a pond, completely oblivious to his presence.


    The early morning sun had not yet fully risen, leaving the world bathed in a soft, dim light. In the gentle rays, the deer looked almost ethereal, as though it were too pure to exist in this cruel world. But Fenris had to eat.


    He prepared himself, then dashed forward. The deer reacted too late. Fenris grabbed it in a chokehold. It struggled to escape, but his grip was unyielding. With a swift motion of his claws, he sliced its neck. Blood flowed from the wound as Fenris gently laid the deer on the ground, allowing it to die.


    The deer was dead—a successful morning hunt for the young werewolf. Now he could start a fire and cook his prey like anyone else. It would take some time to skin the deer and find the right wood. Or...


    Fenris bit into the deer, consuming it raw.


    His fangs made quick work of ripping through skin and meat. Within twenty minutes, he was finished. All that remained of the deer was its skeleton and antlers. He could have eaten more, but there was no need to rush.


    He stood and continued on his journey. Walking along a forest path, he checked his progress.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    "Wow, I really covered a lot of distance this time. Might be a new record. If I keep walking, I’ll be there before the end of the day," Fenris said to himself.


    He recalled what Luna had told him about this town—though she hadn’t said much. She’d mentioned that she grew up there but had offered no other details. Fenris, who lacked the majority of his childhood memories, had always tried to pry, but Luna would smile and change the subject. Was her past truly so painful? And if it was, what were the chances she would return there? It didn’t matter. This was his last clue; it had to lead him to her.


    Fenris walked from early morning until late at night. Finally, he saw lights ahead. It was a town—the one he had been searching for. He had finally arrived.


    Entering the town, Fenris began looking for a tavern. Barkeeps tended to know a lot about the towns they worked in, and he needed a place to stay for the night. While he didn’t mind sleeping in the woods, tonight was different. Tonight, he needed proper rest and answers about Luna.


    He entered the tavern, where a group of bards played cheerful music.


    "Again? What do these people have that makes them so damn happy all the time?" Fenris grunted. Maybe it was the fact that they all had normal lives, that they hadn’t been hunted since childhood, and that the world didn’t want them dead.


    Yeah, that was probably it.


    He approached the barkeep, who was cleaning a wooden mug. Fenris had noticed that barkeeps always seemed to be cleaning mugs in every tavern he visited. He wondered if the mugs were ever actually dirty or if it was just a facade of busyness.


    "What do you want, son?" the barkeep asked without pausing his cleaning.


    "A room for the night," Fenris replied, dropping a few coins onto the counter. The barkeep eyed the coins. Fenris had overpaid, but the man wasn’t going to mention it. He pocketed the money.


    "Upstairs, second door on the right. But the night’s still young. Have a drink, join the crowd. Oh, and just so you know, there’s a pretty girl who’s had her eye on you since you walked in," the barkeep said with a grin.


    Fenris didn’t even turn around. "Just the room is fine," he said flatly, showing no emotion. He walked upstairs, found the room, and lay on the bed. It was time for a good night’s rest. But he couldn’t sleep. Two years of searching had led him to this town—the birthplace of the friend who had abandoned him.


    He tried not to dwell on it. If he found nothing here, he would be alone in a world that didn’t want him to exist. Alone with no friends or family.


    Before searching for Luna, Fenris had tried to uncover clues about his own past. All he had was a memory of waking in a field with no recollection of his identity. He’d found a wooden necklace carved into the shape of a wolf. At first, he thought it was insignificant, but then he remembered a fleeting image—a woman placing the necklace around his neck and saying, "I love you."


    It was hard to remember the woman’s face now. Years had passed since the memory surfaced, but he remembered the warmth he had felt. That same warmth returned whenever he thought of Luna.


    Exhaustion flickered in Fenris’s eyes—not physical but mental. He closed his eyes and drifted off.


    Fenris woke to find sunlight streaming through the window. Judging by the brightness, it was already afternoon. Was he really that tired? Or had he subconsciously stayed in bed, fearing what would happen if he found nothing?


    He went down to the tavern. The barkeep greeted him with a grin. "Well, look who’s finally up! I was starting to think someone killed you in your sleep," the barkeep joked.


    Fenris didn’t respond. The comment might have been a joke, but it struck a nerve. He’d woken to the sounds of former pack members fighting—and dying—too many times.


    "I’m looking for someone. Ever heard of a sorceress named Luna? She’s a Blessed One. Apparently, she’s from here," Fenris asked.


    "A Blessed One? HA! Unlikely, son. If we had one of those, they’d be the talk of the town. This place isn’t that big; everyone knows everyone. Sorry, but I think you’ve got the wrong town," the barkeep replied.


    Fenris was stunned. Had Luna lied to him? But why? And why would she leave him with only a letter? He couldn’t give up yet. Maybe she hadn’t told the whole town who she was.


    He left the tavern and went into the town, asking anyone he could about Luna. He described her features and mentioned that she was a Blessed One. Everyone denied knowing her. The barkeep had been right. A Blessed One would have been widely known in a small town like this.


    Defeated, Fenris felt the weight of two years of searching for her settle heavily on his shoulders.


    "Young man, may I have a moment of your time?" a woman’s voice called. Fenris turned to see a woman in her forties with dark hair and eyes. She was slim, and something about her seemed familiar, though he was certain they’d never met.


    "I couldn’t help but overhear your conversations with the townsfolk. This ‘Luna’—could you describe her for me?" the woman asked.


    "Purple hair, dark eyes, and a robe with crescent moon patterns. She’s also a Blessed One," Fenris said.


    The woman’s expression turned distressed as she looked away. "I think... I think she’s my daughter," she said.