The night was ripped open by towering flames.
Greywood Village was gone—reduced to a warped, silent hell of fire and corpses. Wooden beams cracked and collapsed as the blaze devoured what remained, sending ash and sparks swirling into the black sky. The air was thick with a sickening stench—burned timber, seared flesh, and blood.
No one questioned Colin.
He stood amid the devastation, blood still speckling his body, gazing at the inferno as if it were a finished painting—cruel, yet magnificent. His presence alone silenced doubt. Authority radiated from him, absolute and immovable.
At the edge of the formation, Anna stood beneath a charred tree, her back to the flames. Even so, the fire stretched her shadow long across the ground, trembling faintly.
Her grip tightened around the dagger in her hand until her knuckles turned white.
She was no stranger to killing. Beasts, spies, enemies—many had fallen to her arrows. She had long believed her heart hardened.
Yet this… was different.
Fragments of memory flickered unbidden—a mother clutching her child,an old man supporting his wife,a frightened child peeking through the chaos.
A question surfaced, sharp and unrelenting:
What made this any different from what had been done to her own tribe?
Wasn't this the same?
The footsteps behind her were light, almost soundless.
Colin arrived beside her, mounted on his snow wolf. The great beast lowered its head, gently brushing against Anna's cold hand, as if sensing the storm within her.
She flinched slightly, snapping back to the present. When she looked up, she met Colin's gaze—deep, steady, unreadable in the firelight.
"Can't bear it?" he asked.
His voice held no judgment. No comfort either.
Anna hesitated, then spoke quietly, almost unwillingly.
"They… were just civilians."
"Civilians?" Colin echoed, a faint edge of mockery beneath the calm.
He didn't argue immediately. Instead, he looked past the flames, into the endless darkness beyond.
"Do you remember," he said slowly, "the day your tribe was destroyed?"
Anna froze.
That memory was carved into her very bones.
"When they came," Colin continued, his voice low and unyielding, "did they hesitate? When they slaughtered your people—did they stop to ask who was innocent?"
Each word struck like iron.
"When they raised their weapons against children… when they turned your kin into trophies… did they ever think about 'civilians'?"
Anna's breathing quickened. The softness in her eyes shattered, replaced by something colder.
"This is war," Colin said. "Not hunting."
"In hunting, you kill the prey. In war, you destroy everything that sustains the enemy—his army, his will… and the ground he stands on."
He gestured toward the burning village.
"These people are part of that ground. They feed his army. They sustain his rule. They benefit from the peace built on our suffering."
"When they lived in comfort, they chose their side."
His voice hardened.
"What was done to us was fire. What we return… is fire and steel."
Silence followed, broken only by the crackling of flames.
"Kindness to the enemy," he said at last, "is cruelty to yourself."
The words settled heavily in the air.
Nearby, Lena turned away from the scene, shoulders trembling as she crouched low. She said nothing. Could say nothing. Her tears fell silently into the dirt.
Anna inhaled deeply. The smoke burned her lungs, but it cleared her thoughts.
Slowly, she lifted her head.
"I understand, Leader."
Her voice was hoarse—but steady.
The hesitation was gone. In its place stood resolve.
She knew now: mercy was a luxury she no longer possessed.
Colin watched her, then nodded.
Without another word, he turned to face the army.
"I know what some of you are thinking," he said, his voice carrying across the battlefield.
"That I am cruel. That I am a devil."
A pause.
"And you are right."
Murmurs rippled through the ranks.
"In the eyes of our enemies, I am a devil. And from this moment on—you will be devils as well."
"Because only fear can defeat fear."
He stepped forward, pulling a small vial from his side.
Without explanation, he poured a glowing green liquid onto the wound of an injured Deer-folk warrior.
Before their eyes, the bleeding stopped. Flesh closed. The injury vanished, leaving only faint skin behind.
A stunned silence.
Then—
"A miracle…"
"The Wolf Lord…!"
The realization spread like wildfire.
"He turns death into power!"
"He blesses us with it!"
Voices rose into fervent cries, filled with awe and devotion.
"Long live the Wolf Lord!"
Colin said nothing.
But inside, he remained cold.
He understood exactly what had just happened.
This army had changed.
They would no longer fight for survival.Nor for revenge.
They would fight for him.
He turned his wolf toward the dark horizon.
"All forces—move."
"Next target."
The army surged forward, leaving the burning ruins behind, like shadows dissolving into the night.
Anna followed at the rear, her face expressionless, her eyes sharp and distant.
The memories still lingered.
But each time they surfaced, another voice drowned them out—
Do you remember the day your tribe was destroyed?
She did.
And so she walked on without looking back.