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Chapter 2: The Burning Truth
Edwin sat in his room, deep in thought. The flickering candle beside him cast long shadows across the wooden walls, its dim light barely holding back the dark. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the surface of his bed as he thought.
Were the books in the library wrong?
No,they cannot be. They are maintained by the guild and the government and hiding about something like The Black Wolves wouldn't do any good for them.
And yet…
"How did that black wolf have the ability to breathe fire?"
His voice barely rose above a whisper, but the question felt heavy, pressing against his mind like an unsolved riddle.
No such ability had ever been recorded. Black Wolves were dangerous but they didn't breathe fire. If they did, the guild's records would have noted it, and the knowledge would have been spread among adventurers.
These records had been used for generations. If they were false, it would have led to disaster long ago.
"Then how?"
No matter how much he thought, he couldn't find an answer. His mind chased possibilities like a hound on a scent, but every thought led to a dead end.
With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself up from his chair. "Sitting here won't solve anything."
The candlelight flickered as he moved, casting shifting shapes against the walls. He grabbed his coat, slung it over his shoulders, and stepped out into the cold night air. His boots clunked against the wooden floor as he left the inn, making his way toward the guild.
The next morning, Edwin stood once more at the guild's test site—a dense, ancient forest, its towering trees blanketed in mist.
This time, he had a plan.
Once again, he found the small, three-eyed fox. Its white-gold fur shimmered under the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees. The creature turned toward him, its intelligent eyes watching warily.
"Go," Edwin said, his voice steady.
The fox hesitated for a brief moment before bolting. But Edwin was ready.
He followed.
The forest seemed to shift around him as he ran, branches clawing at his cloak, leaves crunching beneath his hurried footsteps. The fox moved swiftly, weaving between trees, ducking under fallen logs, and slipping through narrow gaps Edwin barely managed to squeeze through.
And then, at last, they arrived.
A cave.
A deep, yawning darkness loomed ahead, a foul stench wafting from within. The moment the smell hit his nose, Edwin recoiled, pressing a sleeve to his face.
"Ugh... What is that?"
He stepped forward cautiously, the air growing thicker, heavier, as if the cave itself was exhaling its rot into the world.
Then he saw them.
Two enormous foxes—identical to the small one, save for their sheer size—lay before him. Their once-beautiful fur was torn from their skin, soaked in blood. Their powerful jaws were shattered, mangled beyond recognition. Their bodies were burned, charred black in places where fire had consumed them.
A fresh kill.
Edwin's stomach twisted.
"What the hell happened here...?"
Beside him, the small fox stood motionless, its tiny body trembling. A faint, broken whimper escaped its throat.
"These must be its parents," Edwin realized, his chest tightening.
His hands curled into fists.
"The black wolf… this is its doing, isn't it?"
The fox said nothing. It didn't need to. Its silent grief was answer enough.
Edwin forced himself to move closer, studying the bodies despite the bile rising in his throat. His mind raced, piecing together fragments of knowledge, searching for a pattern—until something clicked.
He stiffened.
"Wait a minute…" His voice barely rose above a whisper.
His gaze darted between the foxes. White-gold fur. Three eyes. A natural connection to magic.
A memory surfaced from the depths of his training.
"Spirit Foxes."
His eyes widened.
These weren't just any foxes. They were rare, mystical creatures said to be attuned to the flow of mana itself. They were known to be incredibly powerful, capable of wielding magic in ways few creatures could.
But they weren't supposed to be here.
Spirit Foxes were native to the Elven Forests—far, far from this test site. So why were they here? And more importantly…
"Why would the black wolf kill them?"
More questions flooded his mind, but he had no time for answers. He turned sharply toward the small fox, determination flaring in his chest.
"I'll figure this out," he promised.
Then, without another word, he ran.
Back toward the beast.
The black wolf stood where he had last encountered it, waiting in the clearing like a dark omen. Its fur, thick as a storm cloud, rippled in the wind. Its glowing red eyes burned into him.
Edwin stopped a few feet away, breathless but resolute.
The beast exhaled, the heat from its breath distorting the air. The ground beneath it was scorched, blackened from the flames it had conjured before.
Edwin clenched his fists.
"Kill me."
The wolf lunged.
Darkness.
And then—
Light.
He awoke with a gasp, bolting upright in his bed.
His pulse hammered in his ears, his body slick with sweat. He clutched at the sheets, his mind scrambling to make sense of what had just happened.
"That… wasn't normal," he muttered.
The black wolf had killed him. He was certain of it. He had felt it. The searing heat, the unbearable pain—it had been real.
And yet, here he was. Alive.
His breaths came in uneven gulps as he forced himself out of bed, pulling on his boots with shaking hands. He didn't have time to waste.
He ran.
Out of the inn.
Through the market.
Past startled merchants and confused townsfolk.
Straight to the library.
The doors slammed open as he entered, startling the librarian.
"Running in the library is—!"
"Not now!" Edwin called, already pulling books from the adventurer's section, flipping through pages frantically.
His fingers moved faster, faster—
There.
His eyes locked onto the page he needed.
His voice was breathless as he read aloud:
"Spirit Foxes are native to the Elven Forests. They are drawn to a good heart and a strong spirit. Upon reaching adulthood, which occurs between one to two years after birth, they gain the ability to breathe fire. Even before adulthood, they possess immense magical affinity."
Silence.
Edwin's breath caught.
"That's it."
He slammed the book shut, gripping it tightly.
"Just as I thought… these foxes aren't from here." His hands trembled slightly. "And they can breathe fire… just like the black wolf."
His mind raced.
"So… somehow, the black wolf has gained the powers of a Spirit Fox?"
He exhaled sharply.
His grip on the book tightened.
"What the hell is going on here?"
End of Chapter