[TLD] Chapter 10 - Real Monsters

Chapter 10

Real Monsters

The wolves moved first.

All three of them attacked simultaneously from different angles. Azratheon tried to track them all but they moved too fast. The one on his left darted in low and snapped at the back of his hind leg where scales gave way to more vulnerable flesh. Teeth tore through and blood welled hot.

He spun toward it but the wolf was already gone, dancing back out of reach.

Another strike from his right. This one bit at the underside of his tail and ripped away before he could retaliate. Pain flared sharp and immediate.

The third came from behind while he was still turning. Its jaws clamped onto his flank and pulled. Azratheon felt something tear and looked back to see one of his scales had ripped free, still caught between the wolf’s teeth. Blood ran from the exposed flesh beneath.

He snarled and lunged at that one. It dropped the scale and retreated smoothly, rejoining its packmates at the clearing’s edge.

They circled him now. Patient. Watching. Bleeding him with quick strikes and withdrawing before he could counter.

Another rush. Two at once this time, from opposite sides. He tried to defend against both and stopped neither. Teeth tore into the back of his other leg. More blood. More pain.

Azratheon snapped and snarled, spinning to try and catch them. But they were faster in this form than he was. Smaller. More maneuverable. Each strike drew blood from places his scales didn’t protect.

Then something shifted in his mind. The realization settled cold and clear.

He was bleeding. They’d torn a scale free. Bitten his legs and tail and flank. 

So what?

He was dragon.

The next time they rushed him, Azratheon didn’t try to track them at all. Didn’t spin defensively. He picked one and committed.

The wolf on his left darted in for another strike at his leg.

Azratheon gathered fire Qi in his hind legs and released it.

The Quick Step launched him forward in an explosive burst. The wolf’s eyes widened as he closed the distance in an instant. They collided and went down in a tangle of limbs and claws.

Azratheon’s jaws found the wolf’s back. Bit down on its spine with all his strength.

The hide was thick. Tougher than the boar had been. His teeth sank in but slowed. He could feel the spine beneath. The wolf thrashed and screamed, trying to throw him off.

The other two were already moving.

One slammed into his side. The second leaped onto his back. Claws dug into his scales and jaws snapped at the back of his neck. He felt a tooth slip beneath a scale there and punch through flesh.

Real pain. Real danger.

Azratheon roared and threw himself sideways, releasing the first wolf. All three went tumbling. He spun as he rose and threw the one on his back off with a violent shake.

The first wolf he’d bitten scrambled to its feet. Blood ran down its back and one of its hind legs dragged slightly. Injured but still mobile.

All three regrouped and faced him. Their coordination hadn’t broken. If anything, his counterattack had made them more cautious. More dangerous.

Azratheon made his decision in an instant.

He turned and ran. 

The wolves howled and gave chase immediately. He could hear them behind him, closing the distance. They were fast but so was he. The trees blurred past as he ran, scanning for what he needed.

There. Two massive trees growing close together. Old growth, their trunks thick and ancient. The gap between them was narrow enough for his purpose.

Azratheon angled toward them and put on more speed. Passed between the trees. Spun around as soon as he cleared and planted his feet.

The wolves were just behind him. Both of the uninjured ones charging hard, committed to the chase. The injured third lagged slightly behind but still coming.

The two in front didn’t have time to split or change angle. The narrow gap funneled them straight toward him.

Azratheon’s neck curved upward. His jaws opened wide as he inhaled deeply, pulling air and fire Qi together in his throat.

Then snapped forward and exhaled.

Fire erupted from his maw in a roaring torrent. It caught both wolves in the narrow space between the trees where they couldn’t dodge. Fur ignited. Flesh burned. Their growls turned to howls.

The flames cut off after several seconds. Azratheon’s breath came harder and exhaustion tugged at him. The technique had burned through a lot of Qi. But he was still standing. Still had plenty more.

Both wolves lay in the gap. Burned badly, still alive but not moving much. Whimpering.

The third wolf, the injured one, skidded to a stop out of range. It stared at its burning packmates. Then at him.

Then turned and fled into the forest.

Azratheon’s instinct screamed to chase it. To finish the hunt. His muscles tensed to launch after the fleeing wolf.

But fire-memory whispered in his mind. Finish the prey in your claws before chasing shadows.

He stopped. Turned back to the two burned wolves struggling weakly in the gap.

The fleeing one was already gone. These two were his.

He moved forward and ended it quickly, not prolonging their suffering.

He tore into both carcasses, consuming their hearts first. The two of them pushed his cultivation to the edge of his current stage. Stage 3 remained just out of reach. 

The process remained strange to him, cultivating a foreign concept for a dragon, but each stage so far had provided a sudden burst of bodily recovery. He couldn’t argue with the results.

Then he cracked their skulls open and consumed their cores. They were gray-silver crystal, slightly larger than the boars’ cores. At the high end of stage 2, like he now was. 

The cores were another matter entirely, compared to the hearts. They would sit in his stomach, providing thin streams of Qi until consumed. Unlike a human, he lacked the means to pull the Qi out directly to accelerate his own cultivation.

Then he ate. The fight had pushed him and the hunger demanded satisfaction. He consumed methodically, tearing through burned flesh and working his way to organs and meat that hadn’t been touched by fire. The wolves were larger than the boar. More substantial.

By the time he finished, the gnawing emptiness had finally eased. Not gone completely, but better. Manageable. A few more days of hunting and feeding and he would feel… right.

Azratheon sat back and assessed. Blood covered his scales from multiple wounds. The puncture on his neck throbbed with each heartbeat. Bites on his legs and tail stung.

The missing scale on his flank ached. The wound would heal, like the others, though the scale would take months to regrow.

But he’d won.

Three wolves working together had nearly overwhelmed him. Their coordination and tactics had been effective. Without technique, without terrain advantage, the fight could have gone differently.

Just hatched and already showing the signs. Of hubris. Not an uncommon problem for dragons. He would need to be more careful.

The moon hung lower now. Dawn wasn’t far off. He moved through the forest back toward the meeting spot, leaving the remains behind.

When he reached the tree where he always waited, Azratheon settled against it heavily. Exhaustion pulled at him now that the fight was over. The wounds weren’t serious but they needed time to heal.

He curled up and closed his eyes.

Sleep came fast.

***

She looked up and realized the light had changed. It was sunset.

The realization jolted her from the meditation pose she’d held for hours. Her legs tingled as blood flow returned. She’d been at it all day again, trying to sense the ambient Qi the manual described.

And this time... maybe she’d felt something. A faint sensation, like gentle pressure moving beneath her skin. There and gone before she could focus on it properly.

Or maybe she’d imagined it.

Either way, she wasn’t discouraged. Tomorrow she’d try again. She was going to get this. She could feel it.

She stood and stretched, working the stiffness from her joints. The manual and her other possessions went back into the storage rings. She hid them in her clothes and checked the crumbs on the bed. Fewer today. She was getting better at eating neatly.

The walk downstairs felt lighter than usual. The common room was filling with the evening crowd but she moved through it without hesitation. Out the door and into the cooling air.

He’d be waiting. Like always.

The lumberjack stood just outside the inn with his two friends.

She noticed them immediately but kept walking. Just locals. Nothing to do with her.

“Wait.”

The word stopped her before she could think. Her body obeyed automatically, feet halting mid-step. A lifetime of conditioning.

She turned slowly. The big man was looking at her. His friends flanked him on either side.

“Yes?” Her voice came out small.

“Been watching you,” he said casually. “Coming and going. Same time every day. Alone.”

Her heart started pounding. “My masters are still hunting. I’m just—”

“Your masters.” He stepped closer. “Right. Been thinking about that. Awful strange, them sending a slave to stay in an inn. With coin to spend. While they’re up on that volcano for days.”

“They rewarded me. For leading them to—”

“And awful convenient,” he continued, talking over her, “that we haven’t seen hide nor hair of them. Not coming down for supplies. Not checking on you. Nothing.”

She took a step back. “I should go. They’re expecting—”

His hand shot out and caught her arm.

“I don’t think they’re expecting anything,” he said quietly. “I think something happened up there. And I think you walked away with their things.”

“No. That’s not—”

“Show me the brand.”

Her blood went cold.

“I don’t—”

“All slaves have them. If you’re really owned, show me the mark. Prove they’re still your masters.”

She tried to pull away. His grip tightened.

“I have to go,” she said desperately. “They’ll be angry if I’m late—”

“Show me.”

She pulled harder but he didn’t let go. His other hand reached for the back of her neck. She twisted, trying to stop him, but his friends moved in and grabbed her arms.

“Hold her.”

“No! Please—”

He pulled her hair aside roughly. Yanked the collar of her shirt down.

She felt the air hit the slave brand on her neck.

The lumberjack went very still. Then he laughed.

“Well look at that. It’s faded. No active claim.” He looked at his friends. “She’s free property, boys. Whoever claims her first gets to keep her.”

“Please,” she whispered. “You don’t understand—”

“I understand plenty.” His hand moved from her collar to the brand itself. Palm pressing flat against the ink on her spine. “This’ll just take a second.”

She felt the Qi flow into the mark.

The brand activated with a burning sensation that lanced down her spine. Not physical pain. Worse. The compulsion snapping into place like chains wrapping around her will.

She screamed and thrashed but the grip on her arms held firm.

The brand recognized its new master.

And she felt herself stop fighting.