After that fated encounter, Mirana and Nash crossed paths more and more often. Time gradually made them familiar with one another, nurturing a strange relationship between them. Nash felt at ease whenever she was present. Her presence brought liveliness to his otherwise dry and monotonous training. Whether rain or sunshine, as long as her figure appeared among the treetops nearby, Nash would feel strength surge through his body, a small joy stirring within his heart. Everything flowed on in quiet peace until the Blood Moon drew near, and Nash had come of age, preparing to welcome his Rite of Adulthood.

  One ordinary morning like any other, Nash trained with fervor, his body covered in dense red blessing tattoos. The blade in his hands moved fluidly, dancing like flowing water. Shockwaves of force scattered in all directions, leaving countless slashes across the ground and tree trunks. As usual, Mirana rested on a nearby branch. Yet this time, she seemed different. A trace of melancholy clung to her, as if something weighed heavily on her mind. She stared blankly at Nash, then shook her head.

  “Is something wrong with you?” Nash asked with concern, keenly sensing that Mirana was troubled.

  “Hey, gorilla. Later on, I might not be able to come out here to play with you anymore,” Mirana said hesitantly.

  “Hm? What happened? Tell me. If I can help, I will,” Nash replied anxiously. The thought of Mirana no longer being around made him feel an indescribable sense of loss.

  “I have reached the age to be married. My father wants to marry me off to a wealthy family in Greaton. What was their name again? Ah, right. The Golden family.”

  “Married?” Nash faltered, his thoughts thrown into chaos. As a warrior accustomed to bloodshed and battle, he found it difficult to grasp the feeling rising within him. He only knew that it was deeply, unbearably uncomfortable.

  “Hey, gorilla. No, Nash. You will miss me, won’t you?” Mirana suddenly turned her head, staring straight at Nash. For the first time since they had met, she called him by his real name.

  Nash knew that this might truly be their final meeting. Gazing into Mirana’s shining eyes, he spoke absentmindedly.

  “That is fine. I wish you happiness.”

  Mirana was disappointed. She had been waiting for a different answer. Sadness flickered across her face, but it was quickly replaced by a forced cheerfulness. She spoke in a lively tone.

  “Then after I leave, you must keep training hard, all right? Future chieftain of BloodClaw. I believe you can do it.”

  Nash now seemed like a man who had lost his soul. His mind felt as if it had been dragged into some distant, empty space. He no longer felt any enthusiasm for training. Each time he looked up at the vacant branches above, Nash felt regret and remorse. He should have stopped her back then. Nash lifted his cup of water as if to drink, then set it down again.

  “What is wrong with you, brother?” Ramos asked in surprise as he ate beside him. It was the first time he had ever seen his older brother so absent minded.

  Nash was startled by the question. He forced a smile and replied,

  “It is nothing. Just a matter involving women…”He hesitated.

  “What kind of matter?” Ramos spat out all the water in his mouth, eyes wide as he stared at his brother.

  “Mirana. She married someone else. I… Actually I…” Nash stammered, utterly at a loss. At this moment, he truly looked like a gorilla, with none of the imposing presence of a warlord.

  “Mirana? The youngest daughter of the SiverFang chieftain. How could she get married? She is not even of age yet. She was born only two days after us. At the very least, she will not be considered an adult until after the Moon Festival.” Ramos replied calmly.

  “Really? How do you know that…” Joy immediately surfaced on Nash’s face. The information from Ramos seemed to breathe life back into him.

  “We can extract plenty of information from those merchants. Through trade. Through threats…” Ramos thought to himself that most of it involved threats.

  “I think I have feelings for her. I… I do not want her to marry another man. Do you have a way, Ramos?” Nash pleaded. He knew he could no longer deny his emotions. Over these past days, Mirana’s figure had been etched deeply into his mind. Nash knew that he truly liked her.

  Ramos rubbed his head. He did, in fact, have a plan.

  “It will be very dangerous, and it may even cost you your life. Do you dare?” Ramos pressed him.

  At that moment, the domineering confidence of a born leader returned to Nash. He laughed loudly and said with bold ease,

  “Of course I dare. What is there to fear?”

  ...

  Hearing this, Thane frowned. He quickly grabbed the bottle of Meli wine, poured himself a full cup, drank it in one go, then harshly scolded Ramos.

  “Are you insane? You actually advised my father to kidnap a bride. You should know that Ossa was in a state of constant inter tribal warfare at that time. What you suggested was no different from forcing him toward his death.”

  “Hahaha. Damn clever. You figured out my plan immediately. That is right. I advised Nash to kidnap the bride. But it was not without preparation.” Ramos clapped his hands in praise and continued his story.

  The bride kidnapping plan relied essentially on a single word. Speed. To escape the pursuit of the SiverFang warriors, one needed terrifying speed. That was almost impossible for BloodClaw, a tribe that emphasized raw strength. But the wolves of BloodMoon were different. There existed a species of white wolf that was incredibly fast, appearing only deep within the hills and only on the final day of the Blood Moon.

  “If you can conquer it, you will obtain a speed that no SiverFang warrior can ever catch.”

  The final day of the Blood Moon Festival finally arrived. Those who participated today were either the elite of the tribe or at the very least the most foolish. The Blood Moon hung full and round in the sky, radiating a gentle glow that drove the wolves into a frenzy, making them stronger than ever. Any weakling who dared to participate at this time had only one fate. To become food in the bellies of wolves.

  Korath stared at his two sons with delight. He had no doubts about Nash’s strength. What surprised him was that Ramos dared to attempt the trial at such a moment. Ramos’s courage made him feel a tinge of regret. Perhaps he should have paid more attention to this second son.

  The drums thundered. The children wearing red loincloths departed one by one, disappearing into the forest near the BloodMoon hills. Ramos was fortunate to subdue a gray wolf at the outer edge. The battle was difficult, but he succeeded. Nash, however, was different. He ventured deep into the hill, accompanied by the frenzied howls of wolves.

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  As sunlight gradually rose, replacing the illusory crimson moonlight, Korath stared blankly at the distant hill as if searching for someone’s silhouette. The chieftain let out a sigh. Dawn had arrived. Perhaps the son in whom he had placed so much hope would not return. But suddenly, a massive white wolf appeared, carrying on its back a grotesque figure barely clinging to life. His chest rose and fell with labored breaths, and his long arms hung limply along the wolf’s back.

  Korath was stunned, then overjoyed to the point of madness. Judging from the wolf’s size and overwhelming presence, the chieftain knew at once that this was an exceptionally powerful wolf. The keen intelligence in its eyes, combined with the calm authority of a king, gathered upon its body. A young Wolf King. A wolf that would certainly grow into a Battle King, and with a certain probability, become an existence akin to Vargan, a Wolf Emperor.

  From that moment on, Nash’s position as the next chieftain in line was beyond all doubt. Should Korath meet with any accident or pass away unexpectedly, Nash would immediately inherit the BloodClaw sigil and ascend as the next chieftain.

  At that very moment, in the Allblack region of SiverFang, a grand wedding was also being held. A wedding filled with calculation and intrigue, between Mirana, the daughter of the SiverFang chieftain, and Golden Maxwell, the eldest son of House Golden.

  Nashor kicked the door open and stormed into Chieftain Vega’s council chamber. He pointed straight at his father’s face, showing not the slightest respect.

  “Hey old man. Have you lost your mind? I just got back and already heard this shocking news. What were you thinking, marrying Mirana off to those hypocrites from Greaton? You are ruining her life. In their eyes, we are nothing but ignorant savages. Where is the equality in that?”

  Ignoring his insolent son’s shouting, Vega did not change his decision. The old man’s mind was now filled with greed and illusion. He had discovered a tremendous secret hidden within the stone in Maxwell’s possession. He had tried every means to exchange for it, but that brat seemed to sense that the stone was anything but ordinary. He refused to trade it, until he was tempted by Mirana’s beautiful appearance.

  “You want this stone? Fine. Marry your daughter to me, and I will give you the stone.”

  “There is no mistake. It must be it. The stone of nightmares. The stone of wishes.”

  Vega vividly remembered the moment Maxwell took out the stone. The fangs of Matta trembled violently. Siver Fang was a special weapon forged from the fangs of a powerful ratta, personally named by a Newborn God. It could sense the presence of nightmare energy.

  Madenes’s prophecy echoed within Vega’s mind. Let alone a daughter. Even if he had to commit deeds far worse and more horrifying, he would still do it. The stone had to belong to him.

  Maxwell’s merchant caravan had set up camp nearby in the Darkwood forest. Mirana was also about to come of age, so he could afford to wait. After all, traveling back to Greaton took considerable time. He did not want to go back and forth just to marry a savage girl. Maxwell rubbed the rough stone in his hand. He knew it was extraordinary. He had tried smashing it with various materials, but all had failed. Although Maxwell knew the stone concealed some kind of secret, he did not truly care. Trading it would bring him far greater profit.

  Did Vega think he would be enchanted by Mirana’s beauty? Do not make him laugh. As a child born into a wealthy family, Maxwell had seen countless beautiful women, including powerful female mages full of presence and dignity. Mirana was nothing more than a rustic girl from the barbaric tribes of Ossa. What he wanted was exclusive control over the supply of Cerberus dung. Becoming the son in law of SiverFang was no different from holding Infernic itself in his hands. He could monopolize the dung production there and sell it at high prices to other merchants. If he succeeded in dominating this market, even Hamster would have to look at him differently. Maxwell ground his teeth. He was the true future head of House Golden, not that brat Richer.

  Mirana was confined within her own chamber. From the moment she refused this political marriage, her freedom and right to choose were stripped away. The only one allowed to visit her was her gentle elder brother Nashor, yet even he could only shake his head in helplessness. Vega had made up his mind. Nothing could replace his decision. He was no longer the loving father she once knew. He had become cold and ruthless, as though something within him had changed.

  Each passing day was torment for Mirana. Nash’s figure appeared again and again within her thoughts. His resolute gaze, cold yet filled with determination, ensnared her heart. Only through separation did she realize how important Nash truly was to her. Perhaps she really did like him.

  The wedding arrived swiftly. The people of SiverFang cheered and danced amid the pounding of drums and the eerie music of horns carved from beast bones. Flowers were scattered everywhere, forming a path for the bride to walk upon. Mirana appeared, beautiful in a thin white beast hide gown. Her pale skin was covered in intricate white fang patterned tattoos, faintly visible against her naturally fair complexion. She wore earrings fashioned from ratta fangs, and upon her head rested the skull of a Cerberus. Step by step, she walked along the flower strewn path toward Maxwell.

  Maxwell’s eyes shone brightly. Her looks were not bad at all. Dressed in a tailored formal suit, with a mage emblem pinned to his chest, he smiled politely and reached out to guide Mirana onto the platform. Standing there was the priest of SiverFang, a frail old man with one foot already in the grave. He could see the deep resentment in Mirana’s eyes, yet could only sigh in helplessness.

  As Vega watched Mirana’s sorrowful face, a trace of reluctance rose within him. He quickly extinguished those thoughts, swearing to himself that he would compensate her in the future.

  "She will probably hate me. But everything I do is for this clan". Vega thought.

  Everyone immersed themselves in the joy of the wedding, unaware that two radiant gazes were hidden atop a high hill, staring intently at the wedding platform.

  "My friend. Are you ready?" Nash gently patted the head of the white wolf, his eyes filled with determination.

  "Wofff." The wolf let out a soft howl in response.

  Without another word, Nash urged the wolf forward. They charged straight toward the wedding at terrifying speed, dust billowing everywhere. Nash and the white wolf moved as one. Those who stood in their way were flung aside, obstacles trampled or shattered beneath them. The warriors of SiverFang tried to give chase, but they were far too slow.

  The commotion drew everyone’s attention, but by the time panic spread, Mirana had already been pulled away by Nash, held tightly against his chest.

  "Wow. Gorilla. You came to take me away?" Mirana burst into tears, sobbing in happiness as she clung to Nash.

  "Do you remember the last question you asked me before you left?"

  "I do."

  "My answer is this. I missed you very very much. More than anything." Nash reached out and gently wiped her tears, then smiled and kissed her forehead.

  "BloodClaw? A wolf rider? Does your tribe truly seek total war with SiverFang? And you, a warlord, think you can escape from my grasp?" Vega’s cold voice echoed through the space, dragging the young lovers back to reality. The oppressive presence of a Battle King burst forth, crushing down on Nash and filling him with fear. However, everything was proceeding exactly as Ramos had planned.

  Ramos’s voice echoed in Nash’s mind. The plan had one enormous obstacle. The white wolf could outrun nearly all of SiverFang’s warriors, but it could never escape Vega. Thus, they needed an insider, someone to hold Vega back. That person was none other than Mirana’s respected elder brother, Nashor.

  "Run." Nashor roared as he lunged forward, slashing fiercely at Vega with the Siver Fang.

  Vega easily evaded the attack, though he was surprised that his accursed son could wield the Silver Fang. Anger surged within the chieftain. Just as he was about to ignore Nashor and give chase, a sense of danger ran up his spine.

  "Ultimate Skill: Path of Fangs."

  The shockwave from Nashor’s ultimate skill tore through the ground and surged toward Vega. It did not only reach Vega but also spread toward Maxwell. The strike was exceedingly cunning, leaving Vega no choice but to block it.

  Glancing at the white wolf disappearing into the distance, the chieftain burned with fury. He waved his hand to shatter Nashor’s ultimate skill, then shot forward like a silver bolt of lightning. He seized Nashor by the head and dragged him violently across the ground.

  After that, Vega turned to pursue once more, only to be halted by a faint tug. Nashor, grievously injured, still clutched his father’s clothing. Trembling, he stammered.

  "Let them go… please… Father."

  "Do you really think I will not kill you just because you are my son?" Vega had gone mad, his eyes bloodshot. Faced with the temptation of a wish, he was no longer the venerable father of the past.

  Vega’s body trembled as he struggled to suppress his urge to kill Nashor. In the end, he let out a long breath. Seeing that the white wolf had vanished far away, he finally gave up.

  "Hmph. Take him away and treat his injuries."

  The agreement between Maxwell and Vega was naturally broken. Yet this only drove Vega further into madness. That very night, he and a group of loyal followers secretly left the tribe, tracking Maxwell’s caravan. Vega did not know that this decision would bring upon SiverFang a catastrophe beyond imagination.