The transition from the cloying, iron-scented humidity of the Sanguine Mists to the bone-chilling dry air of the Iron Mountains was like slamming into a wall of solid ice. Arthur Fenric stood at the base of the jagged peaks, his black leather boots sinking into the fresh, undisturbed powder of the Maw-Pass. Above him, the sky was a bruised purple, and the wind howled with a predatory hunger that seemed to recognize him.
[System Notification]
Area Detected: The Iron Mountains (Werewolf Territory)
Status: Intruders will be hunted on sight.
Warning: Temperature is -20°C. Crimson Ossification (Lv. 5) is mitigating frostbite risk.
Arthur adjusted the collar of his cloak, the Red Wolf insignia on his chest glowing a soft, defiant crimson against the white backdrop. Behind him, the vampires of his newly formed "Red Pack" looked noticeably uncomfortable. Their pale skin was almost translucent in the harsh northern light, and they moved with a twitchy, unnatural grace.
"The wolves won't welcome us, Arthur," Lady Elara whispered, her breath barely a mist in the cold. "To them, we are leeches. To us, they are flea-bitten savages. This 'Alliance' you speak of is a dream built on thin ice."
Arthur didn't turn around. He focused on the World-Pulse, feeling the vibrations of the mountain. Deep in the rock, he felt it—a rhythmic thudding, like a massive engine idling.
"Then we'll thicken the ice," Arthur replied. "The King's Inquisitors are already moving. They don't care about our ancient grudges. They only care about the bounty on my head and the 'purity' of their golden throne."
A massive shadow detached itself from a nearby cliffside. It didn't fall; it lunged. Eight feet of silver-grey muscle and fur descended upon them with a roar that shattered the hanging icicles.
[Skill Activated: Primal Instinct (Lv. 1)]
Arthur's perception slowed. He saw the individual snowflakes swirling around the werewolf's claws. He didn't draw his sword. Instead, he planted his feet and channeled his mana into his palms.
[Skill Used: Gravity Palm (Lv. 5)]
As the werewolf—the Alpha, Sköll—slammed his weight toward Arthur, the "Disgrace Prince" didn't move. He caught the beast's massive forearms, the red shockwave of his impact distorting the air between them. The ground beneath Arthur's boots cracked, but he held his position.
"I am the Red Wolf!" Arthur's voice boomed, vibrating with a frequency that made even the vampires flinch. "I come for the Feral Heart! I come to lead the Great Pack!"
Sköll shifted, his form shrinking back into a scarred, barrel-chested man with eyes the color of a winter storm. He spat into the snow, looking at the red markings now glowing on Arthur's hands.
"A human with the scent of the leeches," Sköll growled, his voice like grinding stones. "You speak of leading us? Many have tried to tame the mountains. All they found was a cold grave."
"I don't want to tame you, Sköll," Arthur said, relaxing his stance but keeping his mana active. "I want to upgrade you. Your style is powerful, but you are slaves to the moon. You hunt in the dark because the sun burns away your ferocity. I can give you the Day-Walker status I gave the vampires."
The surrounding cliffs suddenly bristled with more shadows—dozens of werewolves, their eyes gleaming with a mix of hunger and curiosity.
"The Moon-Gorge," Sköll said, pointing toward a narrow, dark canyon that seemed to swallow the light. "Survive three nights there. No weapons. No armor. Just your skin and the cold. If the mountain doesn't kill you, perhaps we will listen."
Arthur stripped his hardened leather armor, leaving only his trousers. His lean, muscular frame was covered in the faint red veins of his Crimson Ossification. He handed his charcoal-grey sword to Lady Elara.
"Hold this," he said. "And don't let the wolves touch it. The Soul-Binding is sensitive."
[Quest Started: The Trial of the Alpha]
Objective: Survive the Moon-Gorge (0/3 Nights)
Restrictions: No Weapons. No Armor.
The first night was a lesson in humility. The wind in the gorge was a physical blade, carving into Arthur's skin. He sat in the center of the canyon, his legs crossed, eyes closed. He wasn't fighting the cold; he was absorbing it.
[Skill Level Up: Primal Instinct (Lv. 3)]
[Skill Level Up: Crimson Ossification (Lv. 6)]
By the second night, his body began to change. His Eternal Growth trait was working at maximum efficiency, rewriting his biology to survive the impossible. He could hear the blood pumping in the bodies of the wolves watching from the ridges. He could feel the temperature of every stone.
On the third night, a blizzard hit. Visibility dropped to zero. This was the "High Performance" test he had been waiting for.
[Action: Commencing Skill Fusion...]
[Success! New Skill Created: Tyrant's Hearth (Lv. 1)]
Effect: Converts external cold into internal thermal mana.
As the temperature plummeted, Arthur didn't freeze. He began to glow. A deep, pulsing crimson light erupted from his core, melting the snow in a ten-foot radius around him. He wasn't just surviving the mountain; he was dominating it.
When the sun finally rose over the peaks on the fourth morning, Arthur stood up. He walked out of the gorge, his skin steaming in the morning air. Sköll and the entire pack were waiting, their expressions shifting from mockery to genuine awe.
Arthur walked straight up to the Alpha and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"The sun is up, Sköll," Arthur said, his eyes flashing red. "Are you ready to hunt?"
[Skill Activation: Technical Transmission (Lv. 3)]
Arthur surged his mana into the Alpha. The red energy didn't burn; it integrated. Sköll's eyes widened as his silver fur took on a subtle crimson sheen. He looked at his claws, which were now wreathed in the same kinetic distortion as Arthur's Gravity Palm.
Sköll let out a roar—a Tyrant's Roar—that didn't just echo; it shattered the silence of the entire mountain range.
[Pact Initialized: The Lunar-Crimson Alliance]
Benefit: Arthur gains Enhanced Strength (Lv. 15)
Benefit: Werewolves gain Day-Walker Status
Arthur looked toward the south, toward the kingdom that had discarded him. He could almost see the golden palace of Valerius in the distance.
"My father thinks he can send 'Inquisitors' to collect a debt," Arthur said, his voice cold and steady. "But I'm not the one who owes a debt. The throne is my inheritance, and I'm coming to collect it with interest."
Around him, the vampires emerged from the shadows and the werewolves stood tall in the sunlight. Two ancient enemies, unified under the red wolf insignia of the man who was supposed to be a "disgrace".
[Current Status: Arthur Fenric]
Title: Alpha of the Crimson Pack
Level: 32
Next Objective: The Siege of the Borderlands
The "engine" was finally fully assembled, and the world was about to find out exactly what happened when a "disgrace" stopped running on a lie and started running on pure, unadulterated power.