Episode 3
“Hey, say that again.”
Haska tapped the intruder’s arm with his forepaw.
“A groom? That’s funny. Who said you could just go and get yourself married off?”
He nudged the arm again, but after blurting out the bizarre words, ‘I’m your bride,’ the intruder had collapsed and hadn’t moved since.
A sniff told him it was a human. A human not yet even close to being grown. His domain was home to all sorts of creatures, but humans were the exception.
“Should I just crush you?”
The little lifeform looked fragile enough to stop breathing if he pressed down even slightly with his paw.
The easiest way would be to get rid of it, but Haska hesitated.
It was because he recognized the necklace clutched tightly in the unconscious child’s hand.
Hanging from a leather cord was a cone-shaped pendant—refined, but unmistakably one of his own claws.
As he searched his memory, a human man came to mind.
What was it, about 120 years ago?
It was a time when his father, who had ruled the forest, had died, and leadership changed frequently. Among the Goulas, it was a strict law of the jungle: if you won in a fight, you ruled; if you lost, you submitted. The old bowed to the young, and even parents knelt before their children.
There was one unspoken rule: immature beings who hadn’t undergone awakening were not to be harmed. But that didn’t apply to him. Thanks to his strong father and mother, he had been strong even without becoming an adult.
The ruling tribes felt threatened. As if by prior agreement, they all tried to trample him down. Quarrels, schemes, traps, ambushes—every trick and tactic was used.
Those were days when he was endlessly harassed. No matter how blessed his genes were, he couldn’t withstand the constant attacks.
After sustaining serious injuries, he took refuge in a cave behind a waterfall.
That was when a human man appeared—probably lost while gathering herbs.
“No wonder I felt drawn to come here… I must have been meant to meet you. You look like a quack, but you have some skill. Trust him.”
The boy, meeting him in such an isolated place, didn’t seem suspicious at all. He applied medicine and bandaged the wounds without even asking permission, caring for him with surprising dedication. Thanks to that, Haska recovered quickly.
“I am Drakara Daemon Haska, and I will soon rule this forest. I cannot be indebted to a mere human, so take this.”
Giving the boy a token, he promised to grant one wish if he ever came to claim it—anything except his own life.
Had he known that the man’s descendant would come asking him to marry her, he never would have made such a promise. He was regretting that foolishness now.
Then he sensed an unpleasant presence.
“What are these rabble now?”
The group standing on the edge of the forest were neither living nor dead. Sensitive to smell, Haska frowned in disgust and ordered,
“Leave.”
“Dispose of the child… interfere and you die.”
The fact that they didn’t cower but spouted such nonsense meant they must have left their sense of fear at home. It was so laughable he couldn’t even smile.
“Dispose of me, you say?”
He’d heard that before, back before he became ruler of the forest, but not since then. He decided to honor the memory by saying a few words.
“Fight by any means necessary—dirty tricks, foul play, whatever. In real combat, there’s no such thing as a foul.”
“Dispose of you.”
“I just gave you a survival tip, but you probably don’t stand a chance anyway. You might as well start praying.”
He glanced at Staria and grumbled irritably.
“Human, I’m not saving you. I just don’t like them defiling my territory. Their insolence annoys me. Don’t misunderstand. Got it?”
“……”
“Get over there.”
Grabbing Staria by the back of the neck, Haska tossed her beyond the perimeter, then turned his body toward the rabble.
“Come at me all at once.”
In the once peaceful, even boring, Goulas Forest, a storm of blood was about to rage.
“Still not talking?”
Joshua, bodyguard to the Fourth Prince Borhard, clicked his tongue in disbelief.
“No, not a single word. Never met such a stubborn wench in my life.”
About half a day ago, they had lost contact with Raven, who had been pursuing two fugitives from the village.
And Raven was no ordinary soldier. They were the prince’s secret weapon—handpicked elite knights whose souls had been pulled from their bodies through sorcery. They would keep fighting until their rib cages were split open and their hearts torn out.
Feeling no pain, they knew neither hesitation nor retreat. Even with limbs severed, they would not release their weapons. And yet, all the Ravens had been wiped out.
They had captured the woman said to be the fugitive’s mother and tortured her for information, but she had only kept silent.
Scratching his head, Joshua asked,
“They’re just brats. One got swept away down the river with a sword in her, so she’s as good as dead. The other’s just a little kid—what’s she going to do but cry? I don’t understand why Your Highness is so interested. They don’t seem likely to affect the operation in any way…”
“Because there can be no stand-ins.”
“Lady Nancy said so?”
“Yes. She said the villagers were all taught to read the tides of fate and divine fortunes, starting from when they came of age. A treasure is only valuable if I alone have it—if there are duplicates, its rarity drops.”
“That makes sense… but the one we lost isn’t anywhere near coming of age.”
The Fourth Prince Borhard replied flatly,
“That was her condition—erase the village, not a single soul left. She must have wanted a fresh start, so I agreed. Don’t you think?”
“Just give the order. I’ll take an army and handle it at once.”
Before Joshua could rush out, Melgin stopped him.
“I think it’s better not to act rashly.”
Born out of wedlock, Melgin had been barred from an official career despite his talent. Now he was Borhard’s chief aide—the only subordinate the prince truly listened to.
Borhard’s gaze shifted to him.
“Reason?”
“I recall reading about the Goulas Forest. If my memory is correct, the ruler there is of the Wurang (Martial Wolf) tribe.”
“Unfamiliar name.”
“It’s known only in legend. I never knew they truly existed. They take human form until they come of age, and then they gain another body—one with physical abilities beyond compare.”
“So, they’re both human and beast?”
“Yes.”
“All of them in that forest?”
“Yes, they live together as a closed group, only producing offspring within their own kind.”
True to his nature of wanting anything desirable, Borhard showed interest.
“I see… so is there a way to bring them under me?”
“A predator can’t be tamed. Power, gold, common sense—even force—are useless.”
“You know I despise uncertain variables.”
Seeing a crease form on Borhard’s brow, Melgin hastily added,
“The good news is, they don’t interfere with the outside world. The forest won’t welcome humans, so if we politely request the return of the girl, they should hand her over. Please, send me.”
If they blundered and provoked a backlash, it could disrupt plans that had been long in the making. Reluctantly, Borhard agreed to Melgin’s approach.
“Take bait with you, just in case.”
“As you command.”
Whenever Staria woke from a scary dream, she would grab her pillow and run to her mother. Her mother would hold her and tell her stories.
Stories so warm as sunlight and soft as clouds that Staria never wanted to wake up. She’d snuggle deeper into her mother’s embrace, begging for just a little more, a little longer.
But this morning was different.
Her mother’s chest, usually soft and warm, felt like solid iron—and it was covered in fur.
“What’s a little runt doing, touching me?”
At the unfamiliar voice falling from above her part in the hair, Staria cracked her eyes open—then quickly shut them again.
It had been only the briefest glance, but the icy blue eyes glaring at her made her heart pound wildly.
Next…
