As the adrenaline bled away, Sinclair's wound burned sharper, each step a reminder of the monster's strike. The pain didn't fade when his eyes found Chewy and Leia, it grew worse, spreading through his ribs like fire. He clutched his side, forcing his body to move, and pushed after the others climbing the path.

The wolves shifted back and forth along his flanks, trading positions to steady him when he faltered. The trail wound steep and narrow, hemmed by dense brush that rattled in the evening breeze. The sun slipped low, spilling gold across the trees and dragging their shadows long over the slope.

His companions had already crested the rise, their figures lost to the tunnel beyond. Sinclair lagged, every step labored. Sweat ran into his eyes, mixing with the steady line of blood that soaked his tunic. His jaw stayed locked, but each breath caught on the edge of a groan. Pain gnawed at the corners of his mind, sharp enough that he wondered why Pain Tolerance hadn't dulled it.

The climb ended in a black opening gaping from the hillside. His chest heaved as he staggered toward it, his body trembling with effort. The moment he crossed the threshold, arms caught him, hauling him into the dim.

Inside, the tunnel walls shimmered faintly with patches of glowing fungus. Their pale light cast uneasy shadows across the stone.

"Sinclair!" Victoria's voice cut through the silence. She dropped beside him, eyes wide. "What's wrong? Where is all this blood coming from?"

His face twisted, words torn out between clenched teeth. "Side… bastard's claw. Left something in me. Won't heal, hurts like hell." A tremor racked him, foam bubbling at the corners of his mouth.

"Ed, help me turn him. Rose, hold him steady. Sinclair, unequip the armor, I need to see."

With a flicker of thought, the plates dissolved, leaving his body bare but for blood-soaked cloth. Ed lowered him onto his side while Rose slipped in close, her hands wrapping gently around his arm. She held him without pressure, her gaze locked on him, calm but intent.

Victoria's palms glowed as she pressed them to the wound. Light spilled through torn flesh, illuminating the jagged puncture. Her brow knit. "There, it's lodged deep. It's burrowing." Her voice stayed level, but urgency rode beneath it. "I need steel. Now."

A slim dagger pressed into her hand. She braced it, the green glow of the fungi painting her face in stark relief. "Sinclair," she said evenly, "this is going to hurt."

The blade slid into his side with a wet sound. His hand shot out, closing around a stone. Muscles bunched, and the rock split under the pressure, crumbling to dust in his palm. His jaw clenched hard enough to grind, but no sound escaped.

Victoria worked with deliberate precision, the knife angling deeper, her hands steady. Every motion scraped raw against him, his body trembling with the effort of holding still. The cramped tunnel filled with the sound of his ragged breaths, the glow of her magic spilling across the walls as she dug into the wound.

The group fanned out inside the tunnel, eyes flicking between the black passage ahead and the entrance behind. Every scrape of stone echoed too loud, every breath felt like a warning that something might lunge from either direction.

Victoria's knife scraped against bone and slipped, the edge refusing to hook the parasite. She hissed through her teeth, frustration flashing across her face. "This isn't working. I need pliers, tongs, something." Her voice carried sharp in the stone chamber.

Sinclair's trembling hand lifted, his inventory window flickering into existence before his eyes. With a grunt of effort, he pulled out a pair of long-nosed blacksmith tongs and dropped them. They hit the stone with a metallic crack, ringing through the tunnel. His arm fell limp as his body slumped, the strain dragging him back down to the ground.

Victoria snatched the tongs and pressed them into the wound. The metal clinked as she widened the flesh, the edges of the wound tearing with the pressure. Hot blood poured down her hands, slicking her grip. The parasite shifted violently, barbs scraping bone as it tried to dig deeper. Sinclair's whole body convulsed, foam flecking his lips as he crushed another stone to powder in his fist.

"Damn it, help me!" Victoria's voice snapped. "It's anchoring itself!"

Ed dropped to his knees beside her, his massive hands closing over the handles of the tongs. Alice gripped the upper end, bracing her shoulder against the wall for leverage. Together they heaved. The tongs jerked in their grasp as the parasite resisted, spines tearing fresh lines through Sinclair's flesh. His roar tore through clenched teeth, blood spilling from his mouth in a spray.

The parasite writhed harder, its segmented body twisting, tendrils latching against sinew. Every pull ripped him open wider. For nearly two minutes, the group strained against the thing, their muscles corded, sweat running down their faces as the tongs trembled in their grip. The sound was unbearable, a wet, sucking squelch mixed with the scrape of barbs on bone.

At last, the parasite tore free. A gout of black ichor burst from the wound, spattering across Victoria's arms and Alice's chest. Alice whipped the tongs around with a savage motion and hurled the thing against the wall.

It hit with a wet slap, then wriggled in full view. The creature was a grotesque nightmare, like a cross between a finger and a slug, its skin translucent and slimy, veins pulsing beneath the surface. Wormlike tendrils writhed frantically, questing in the air, each movement sharp and chaotic as it searched for flesh. At the end, a cluster of tiny mandibles snapped and clicked, spraying flecks of fluid as it lunged blindly.

Rose's eyes burned red in the dim light. She stood, arm raised, heat rolling off her skin in waves. The air shimmered, dust curling upward as if drawn into her fury. Flames gathered in her palm, bright and blistering, until they roared like a furnace. With a flick of her wrist, she unleashed it.

The torrent engulfed the parasite in fire. It screamed, not with sound, but in the convulsions of its body, as the flames melted its skin, collapsing its pulsing veins into bubbling sludge. The stone wall cracked under the heat, chips of rock scattering across the floor as the thing shriveled into ash.

The tunnel smelled of scorched blood and sulfur. Rose lowered her hand, fire curling away into nothing. She glanced once at the black smear on the stone, then turned back to Sinclair. Her lips curved in a sharp, almost casual line. "Mine."

Victoria ignored the display, already shifting her focus back to the wound. Blood still pumped hot between her fingers as she spread her hands and summoned more light. Patterns spun in the air, weaving into his side. The glow seeped into torn flesh, burning through the last threads of corruption.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Her wings tore free of her back in a flare of golden light, feathers brushing the low ceiling. Power surged through her hands, the glow intensifying, brighter and steadier. Sinclair's pulse slowed under her touch, though his skin was still pale and slick with sweat.

The healing dragged on, slower than it should, but the damage began to close. Every flicker of light knitted another thread of torn muscle, another stretch of raw flesh. Victoria's face glistened with sweat, her jaw clenched, her focus unbroken. The cavern pulsed with the steady light of her magic as she forced the wound closed.

Several minutes into the healing, Victoria finally eased back, her hands falling limp into her lap. She slumped against the stone wall, her chest rising and falling in ragged pulls. Sweat tracked down her temples, catching in the grime that streaked her face. The glow of her wings dimmed as they folded tight against her back, feathers dragging across the rough wall.

The cave was dim, fungi casting their pale glow along the stone, broken only by thin shafts of orange sunlight that pierced the opening. Dust hung in the beams, drifting lazily while the rest of the group stayed still, listening to the quiet.

Alice broke it. "Anyone care to share what that was?" Her tone was flat, but the slight edge in it betrayed her unease. Her eyes flicked from the blackened smear on the wall to Sinclair's pale body, then back toward the tunnel mouth.

Rose had her log open across her knees, the thick leather volume balanced in her hands. Her brow furrowed as she flipped through the latest entries. "My log says I killed an unknown monster," she said, voice low, almost disbelieving. "It's never failed to identify something before." Her finger dragged down a blank space on the page, the place where an entry should have been.

Alice's gaze caught on the book itself, the embossed cover glinting faintly in the dim light. Her curiosity cut sharper now. She leaned in, chin tilted toward it. "What is that? Your log?"

Rose blinked, then looked down at the ornate volume. The runes etched into the spine pulsed faintly as if sensing her attention. She nodded once. "I found this in the shop. A mod. It binds the system log into a book, soulbound. With a little mana, it records everything as entries, even monsters. I can share the pages like any normal book." She traced one of the embossed symbols absently with her thumb, the energy under her skin sparking faintly at the contact.

Alice's eyes narrowed, the flicker of envy clear. "I'm buying that when we get back to town." Her voice carried more steel than casual curiosity, the decision already locked.

Ed knelt beside Sinclair, his big hands steady as he adjusted his friend's body against a bed of cloaks. Sinclair lay motionless, his skin pale under the smear of dried blood. His chest rose and fell shallowly, each breath slow, but steady.

Ed's jaw tightened. "He needs to wake soon," he muttered, scanning the tunnel's mouth, then the black behind them. "If something else like that comes while he's down…" His voice trailed, but the weight of it hung in the air.

Rose closed the log, the snap of it breaking the silence. Her gaze swept over the group. "Agreed. That thing was worse than anything I've seen. We'll rest until he wakes."

No one argued. They each sank into the stone, backs to the wall, weapons loose in their hands. Chewy and Leia settled at Sinclair's flanks, their heads low but eyes watchful, ears pricking at every faint sound that echoed through the cave.

The last light from the sun slid lower, the beams at the entrance thinning until only the faint glow of fungi remained. The air was thick with the stink of burned parasite and the copper tang of blood, a reminder of how close they'd come to losing him.

The tunnel was tight, stone walls pressing close on either side, the air damp and heavy. Nine bodies, four humans, five wolves, filled the space. They set themselves into a rhythm, pairs rotating watch down each end of the corridor while the rest sat close enough that every breath and shuffle echoed. The wolves paced in slow shifts, claws clicking on stone, then settled again beside their partners.

Time dragged, the only measure the ache in muscles and the slow dimming of the faint glow from the fungi on the walls. Nearly two hours passed before Sinclair stirred. His shoulders shifted first, a groan rattling out of him. Heads snapped toward him instantly, all other movement stilled.

He forced his eyes open, grimaced, then croaked, "Did anyone get the license plate of the truck that hit me?" His voice was hoarse but carried a ragged chuckle. He blinked around at them, eyes glassy. "And… did I hallucinate a Valkyrie?"

Victoria leaned in, wings arched behind her, their glow casting pale light across the stone. Relief showed plain on her face, though her voice stayed tight. "How do you feel? It took forever to heal you. Something interfered. What's your health pool?"

Sinclair dragged a hand down his face and sat up with effort, his body stiff like stone. He winced, shook his head to clear it. "I feel wrung out. But coming back. That was… intense. You can't see my health numbers in the group window?" His eyes tracked the wings behind his sister, squinting as if only now noticing them.

Victoria flicked open her system display, a translucent screen hovering at her side. Her fingers worked through the interface, light reflecting in her eyes. "No. Just the bar by your name. No values."

Sinclair frowned. "Weird. Mine shows just under forty-two hundred."

The number hung heavy in the tunnel.

Ed swore under his breath, then said louder, "Shit, man. I've got barely fourteen hundred. You're walking around like your own diamond-plated fortress."

Sinclair scratched the back of his head, the motion awkward but carrying a grin. "That's a fair bit, I guess. The rest of my stats would probably make you shit a brick."

He started reading them off, voice low but steady. Each figure came sharp, Strength, Endurance, Constitution, Willpower, each higher than expected, some double what the others carried. Their silence thickened with every number. The only sounds were the faint drip of water from the tunnel ceiling and Sinclair's tired chuckle as he finished.

Name: Lord Sinclair Hagerson

Race: Human

Level: 25 (27)

Rank: E

Path: Journey of the Wolf

Class: Ulfhednar 19

Health: 4194

Mana: 2504

Stamina: 4146

Strength: 552

Agility: 506

Constitution: 419

Intelligence: 250

Willpower: 471

Endurance: 414

Luck: 66

Available Points: 8

The group sat in silence, the weight of Sinclair's numbers hanging heavy in the cramped tunnel. No one spoke; their eyes told enough. Chewy pressed his head against Sinclair's knee, Leia settling on the other side, both wolves watching him intently. He stroked their fur, giving them a faint smile. "See? I'm all right. But first, who's telling me about our little angel here? When did you sprout wings?"

Victoria's feathers shifted as if answering for her. She straightened under his look, the pale glow of her wings brushing the stone behind her. "My class is Valkyrie. I didn't realize they'd manifested until the others pointed them out. I don't keep them out all the time. Still getting used to them."

Sinclair tilted his head, studying the spread of feathers, then grinned. "Strange or not, don't hide them. If I've learned anything, it's that growth happens when you push in dangerous moments. Lean into it, even if it feels awkward. Just my two cents." He pushed himself upright with a grunt, giving her a lopsided smile. "And thanks for patching me back together."

Victoria's wings dipped slightly, a small nod of acknowledgment.

Sinclair pulled up his logs, hoping for clarity. The damage readout was useless, just Unknown. The monster's entry was the same. But the numbers made him pause. That single kill had given him nearly fourteen percent toward his next level. For him, that was absurd. One or two more kills would push him into level twenty-eight.

A ping flared in the corner of his vision:

Your base stats have changed!

+8 Constitution

+6 Endurance

He flexed his shoulders, testing the changes. The boost felt real, though the stiffness in his legs reminded him of the toll the day had taken. He rubbed his knees, grimacing. They'd been tight since morning, the ache gnawing deeper as the hours passed.

Leia's voice brushed against his mind, steady and concerned. Lord, your legs have been hurting all day, haven't they? When was the last time you checked your cultivation? That should have finished yesterday.

Sinclair froze, staring at her. Then he groaned, smacking his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Of course. Damn it." He flicked his wrist, the cultivation screen flaring into view before him. Numbers filled his vision, half-ignored until now. He let out a long breath through his nose, shaking his head at himself. Am I ever going to get the hang of this?

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