The Wolf of Calamity - Book 1 - Chapter 3 - Punishment and Theory (Patreon)

Year 1396 After Chaos
Month 7

Natural Plane

“The Chaotic Plane,” the Monarch – otherwise known by most as the Primordial Dragon, Tiamat – speaks quietly from her place on the throne at the end of the audience chamber. The three dozen gathered Ranked – each being at the very least a Low-Prince with their own Domains extended to only cover their skin and clothes – shiver slightly as her aura begins to leak out of her.

Tiamat’s aura – a special aura given only to the sole Monarch recognized by the natural plane – is a deep purple in color, with occasional specks of black mixed in as it spreads further and further into the hall. Once it reaches the first Ranked standing near her – a High-Prince, who is nearly twice as powerful as the late Magister Lazarus – it causes the man’s domain and aura to immediately shatter before reentering his body, leaving him gritting his teeth while kneeling on the ground.

“You let him escape to one of the two places out of my absolute control,” Tiamat says while narrowing her draconic, violet eyes at the assembled Ranked as each and every one falls to their knees just like the first one did. “And now that his life crystal has been extinguished, you can’t even find his corpse.”

The primordial being stands up from her throne in slow, fluid motions, allowing her deep purple wings to stretch out to the sides of her throne with her beautiful black dress reaching down to the floor.

At the sight of the shivering Ranked in front of her, she simply frowns before focusing on the one solely responsible for their current conundrum.

“Commander Ezral Halt of my Royal Guard. Even with the help of over two dozen Dukes, you were still unable to stop the Magister from escaping,” she states in a manner both cold and lethargic that has the man in question shivering from his place at the center of the hall on his knees. “If you have no excuse, then I will carry out your punishment.”

The man simply stays silent, unable to give a reasonable excuse for his failure while knowing that giving a false one would only bring on more pain.

After the man’s silence sinks in long enough, the Monarch raises a delicate looking hand and compresses an orb of purple water in front of it. Just the sight of this water has the gathered Ranked wishing they could be anywhere else, but before any of them can even make a sound, the orb disappears, following which comes the sound of the commander’s corpse hitting the floor.

The Monarch turns her attention to the second in command of the Royal Guard and states, “Commander Jerold Vahgner, find the heretic’s corpse and bring the Fallen Lord of Chaos’s organ back. At any cost.”

Jerold looks shocked – both at his sudden promotion and the death of his former commander – before quickly bowing his head and answering, “As you wish, Lady Monarch.”

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Year 1396 After Chaos
Month 7
Ten hours later

Chaotic Plane

Asher

I let out a low growl as I shoot up from my spot lying down, only to let out a wince as I feel my wound almost opening up again.

Just a nightmare…

With that thought, I lie down on the ground again before looking around the den. Then I turn my attention back to the wound, just to surprisingly find it with less than half of the black energy it was giving off earlier still there.

Does that mean it’s curse is weaker than my own? Or was I wrong in my estimation?

I narrow my eyes and turn my head to look out of the den, just to find the blizzard raging just as strongly as it was when I entered. But considering how I’m no longer filled to the point of bursting, enough time must have passed for my food to be digested.

With nothing else to do right now, I lower my head back to the den floor and focus my eyes on the ground.

It’s been bothering me for a while, but the tiny particles that I can see in the air… what are they? I’ve never seen anything like them in what I was taught.

Floating practically everywhere are what must be thousands of tiny little particles. Amongst them are for the most part tiny blue ones that, if they weren’t glowing with a very faint light, I’d just think were snow, along with some other deeper blue ones and even some green and brown ones.

I take the time to watch the particles bob and weave in the air for a little while before thinking Initiate.

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Asher

Direwolf Chimera

PHYS: 30.333 | MAGIC: 34.424

DEX: 10.612 |  CTR: 11.406

STR: 9.811 |  PWR: 12.61

CON: 9.91 | CAP: 10.408

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So these stats mean that I’m about ten or eleven times as strong physically and magically as a regular direwolf in each area? But do those stats compound? Does each stat raise the other stats, or is this a flat rate?

I narrow my eyes at the information before letting out a breath that somehow turns to smoke which burns a short path through the snow in front of my head.

I’m starting to wish that man were still alive if only to explain some things to me.

Like what he meant by a ‘Ranked’, and what a Monarch even was. Because all I know about them is that the man himself was something called a Low-Prince level Ranked, while the Monarch is the Monarch. Some sort of powerful being that he hates.

And that’s all I know.

Then again, it’s possible that this System of his will explain it to me sooner or later.

With that thought in mind, my eyelids slowly lower until I find myself drifting off into sleep again.

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Twelve hours later

My eyes snap open to the sound of a snapping twig coming from outside of the den.

I slowly climb to my feet, noting for a second that the wound in my side isn’t as painful anymore – meaning the curse is probably gone by now – before looking out the exit to the den that I can only barely fit through. Just for my eyes to narrow at the sight of another one of those wraiths passing by the den.

Fortunately, it doesn’t seem to notice me. But I can’t help but tense up as it passes. Especially after I ID it.

<-| Nameless | Ice Wraith | PHYS - 78 | MAGIC - 134 |->

This one’s even stronger than the last. Albeit not by much.

Several dozen seconds pass by before I eventually hear the sounds of its movements fading, along with the disgusting scent that it brings along with it. One akin to decaying flesh.

If I don’t get out there to devour more creatures, then I’ll never become strong enough to survive. But how’ll I do that with these things wandering the area…?

Suddenly, the sound of a snapping stick draws my attention through the narrow hole to find another direwolf walking through the area. Followed immediately by the smell of another wraith that I’m assuming is about to kill the direwolf that is now stiff as a board. But surprisingly, instead of that, I find the wraith completely ignoring the direwolf to pass by just like the other one.

What…?

It’s at that moment that I notice the smell now that the wraith is gone far enough away.

What is that…?

I trail the direwolf with my eyes for a few seconds before inching my way out of the den to get a better look. And once I do, I finally make out some sort of light blue muddy liquid stuck on the direwolf’s fur.

Could that be it?