It seemed like destiny. Shadow and Phantom, partners in crime.
I set off from the stables at a gallop toward Lord Griswald's lands on Phantom's back with the sun set in the distance. On my journey northward I notice dark menacing clouds rolling in as if pursuing me. I arrived hours later at the area along the edge of the forest where the attacks had taken place by nightfall. By this time my quarry the storm clouds have caught up to me and now stand above me threatening with a steady wind with the promise of heavy rain.
The cloak of dark now draped over the land and the tree line separating the farmlands and the edge of the forest of Erwin. The storm clouds blowing in block the moon and stars deepening the darkness of the night. Sitting atop phantom I check the map provided by the guild confirming I am in the correct location. I use a faint light spell to orient myself as I follow the path into the forest. Before entering the forest, I tie phantom up to a tree at the start of the forest trail. I pat him on the head and say "I'll be right back. stay right here." Shadows stretch long and thin, twisting around me as I step under the dark canopy. The forest seems to be alive with movement, a snap of a twig here, a rustle of leaves there. Each sound sends a shiver of awareness through me, sharpening my senses, but I press on, searching the forest floor for signs of wolves.
A soft drizzle turns into steady rain, transforming the ground beneath my feet into a slick, muddy mess. As I tread deeper into the heart of the forest, I start to wonder if all forests at night feel this eerie. But just as that thought flickers through my mind, a sudden weight crashes into me from the side.
The attack comes without warning. Before I have a chance to draw my sword, something large and hairy latches onto my right arm, dragging me down with a brutal force. Mud splashes as I hit the ground, the rough wood of my puppet form grinding against sharp teeth and claws. The massive wolf shakes its head violently, and in an instant, my arm splinters, ripping from my body with a sickening crack.
For a moment, my mind blanks, the giant wolf still biting and clawing at my chest. Then panic floods in watching it's fearsome jaws rip my armored chest plate off and crushing it. I regain my senses and kick hard with both feet, throwing the wolf off me and crashing into a thick tree trunk. I cast a barrier to fend off a second wolf lunging from the left, but my fractured concentration leaves openings. More wolves rush forward, snarling, eyes gleaming in the dark, ripping at my cloak and clawing deep into the wooden frame of my body.
In desperation, I hurl Fire Lance spells from the ground, each one a blazing streak of destruction. One, two, three wolves are struck, their bodies hurled backward as fiery bolts tear through them, leaving gaping, charred wounds. Their lifeless forms slam into the ground with sickening thuds. I continue casting in rapid succession, each spell roaring into the darkness. Some strike true, while others miss, shattering trees and sending them crashing down around me. The relentless barrage drains me quickly, and I can feel my mana reserves dwindling.
I need to get off the ground!
I summon a wall of fire, the flames roaring to life as they encircle me. The searing heat forces the wolves back, giving me just enough time to get to my feet and to grab my sword with my remaining hand. I can't rely on magic alone. At this rate my mana is going to run out. If it runs out, my enchantment will end, leaving this puppet to collapse uselessly.
The remaining wolves encircle me, their snarls echoing through the dark as the torrent of fire shielding me begins to sputter and die. With the flames fading, the beasts retreat into the shadows, their bloodthirsty maws just out of sight. I can barely see them now, but I can hear them—the low growls, the scrape of claws on wet ground.
Then, they pounce.
Gripping my sword tightly, I swipe at where I think the nearest wolf is. The blade connects, slicing through fur and bone with a sickening crunch, spraying blood into the rain. But the others keep coming, their claws tearing into me from every side, their jaws snapping at my wooden frame.
I swing wildly, striking true only occasionally, my blade often meeting empty air. The wolves are unrelenting, ripping me apart piece by piece. One sinks its teeth into the side of my head, shattering part of my mask and ripping out my right eye. My vision halves as I thrust my blade into its neck, sending a torrent of blood over me. I throw the beast off me, sending it crashing to the ground at my feet.
I keep fighting, hacking and slashing, each move more desperate than the last. My strikes grow frantic as panic overtakes precision. In the chaos, another wolf lunges, its jaws closing around my hand. With a brutal shake, it knocks my sword from my grip, the blade landing in the mud with a dull thud far out of reach.
My sword! and I don't have mana for another spell. I'm screwed!
Desperation consumes me. With no other options, I lunge for my severed arm, gripping it tightly. Wielding it like a club, I swing with everything I have, battering the last wolf repeatedly until it collapses.
Finally, silence falls. The forest is still again, save for the faint hiss of dying flames as the rain extinguishes the remnants of fire. Around me lie the broken bodies of the wolves, their blood mixing with the mud.
I stand, battered and broken, my limbs splintered, and my mask shattered, barely holding together. But it’s over.
Though this puppet body doesn’t feel pain, the sight of my shattered limbs, fractured chest, and splintered faceplate fills me with a grim sense of weariness. I have to get back to the tower. Gathering my severed arm, I stagger through the mud, retracing my steps out of the forest.
When I reach the edge of the trail, my heart sinks. Phantom lies lifeless, his body reduced to a bloody, mangled corpse, still tied to the tree. His guts spill onto the ground, torn apart by the same beasts I just fought. I stare for a moment, then force myself to move. There’s no time to hesitate. With my ride gone, I limp toward the capital on foot.
Sorry Phantom, you deserved better than that.
The rain pours relentlessly, each drop cold and heavy, but it doesn’t slow me down. Thanks to my inability to feel pain or tire, I make steady progress without rest. The trip takes all night and into the morning. By some stroke of luck, the storm’s fierce rain and wind keep the streets deserted, allowing me to slip unnoticed toward the castle’s hidden passage.
At last, I stumble into the sanctuary of the tower basement. The creaking of my shattered body is masked by the steady rumble of thunder outside. I am safe, for now, though I hardly feel victorious. All I want is to end my nightmare by returning to Ren.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Then it'll be his problem.
I ascend the stairs slowly, shadows stretching long as I reach Ren's quarters. The storm outside casts jagged flashes of lightning through the windows, illuminating the dim corridor. I push open his bedroom door and stagger inside. The real Ren lies peacefully on the bed, oblivious to the ordeal his puppet self has just endured.
I can barely hold myself up right now, my mana near empty, but with the last dregs of mana, I made sure to return to Ren. I stand in the doorway to his room, tattered, missing an arm, cloak shredded, my mask cracked and exposing a single remaining glowing eye. Lightning flashes behind me, lighting up the wrecked, monstrous silhouette I've become. I almost pity him for what he's about to experience.
Then, with the last bit of energy left, I let go and drift into nothing. My consciousness and memories return to Ren.
In an instant, my consciousness becomes one with Ren, and I feel the overwhelming flood of memories crash into me. I see myself, no, Shadow’s body, crumpled in the doorway to my room, its severed arm lying beside it. The images of the dark forest take over my vision, blotting out the safety of my room, replaced by the shadow’s memories, surrounded by snapping jaws and gleaming eyes.
I relive every agonizing second. The wolves tearing into my arm. The beast that ripped out my eye. I can feel the splintering of wood, the violent shakes as I was thrown to the ground, and the crushing weight of the wolves pinning me down. My screams echo in the room as I clutch my arm and head, trying to shield myself from wounds that aren't there.
The puppet felt nothing. Shadow didn't have nerves to sense pain or adrenaline to respond to fear. Yet, when the memories are transferred to me, all of that anguish, the terror, the raw panic, and the trauma, are mine to bear. My mind burns with the trauma, searing itself into my thoughts. I thrash against the sheets, flailing like I’m still in that forest, still fighting for my life.
Finally, the memory transfer subsides. The forest fades, and I return to my bed, drenched in sweat, gasping for air. My chest heaves as though I’ve just run for miles instead of lying here. I stare blankly at the ceiling, my hands trembling while fragmented images replay behind my eyes. The snarls. The blood. The moment I saw Phantom's mangled body. The failure. The helplessness.
Morning comes, but I can’t bring myself to move. I stay frozen under the covers, wide awake, eyes fixed on Shadow’s ruined form across the room. His body lies broken, each splintered limb and deep claw mark a haunting reminder of my failure. How foolish I had been to think Shadow was ready. I had no idea how dangerous even ordinary wolves could be—how unprepared I was.
The door creaks open, and Lady Willow enters. She takes a moment to assess me before gracefully crossing the room to sit at the edge of my bed.
“Rough night, Ren?” she asks softly, holding her arms open for a hug.
I don’t respond. I can’t. I don’t know how to explain the fear gripping me, the shame that weighs me down. Without thinking, I crawl from the sheets into her waiting arms, the tears finally breaking free. I sob quietly against her chest, the pain of failure too heavy to hold alone.
Willow strokes my back gently, whispering soothing words until, somehow, exhaustion drags me into sleep.
When I next wake, the light filtering through my window tells me it's midday. I’m still tucked into bed, the scent of lavender lingering from Willow’s presence. She returns moments later, her serene expression calm as ever.
“Master Ren,” she says with a gentle smile, “I know last night was hard, but you can’t stay in bed forever. Come have some lunch.”
Reluctantly, I force myself to climb out of bed. My legs feel weak, but she’s right. I don’t have the luxury to wallow. Shadow is broken. No, am broken—and I need to fix us both.
Using a levitation spell, I carry Shadow’s battered body downstairs to my workshop. As I lay his damaged frame across the workbench, the sight fills me with frustration. Wood. I had made him out of wood. Weak, fragile, breakable. Why had I chosen such a poor material? Convenience? Familiarity? I curse my own short-sightedness. I won’t make the same mistake again.
Lady Willow appears beside me, placing a plate of sandwiches and a glass of water on the workbench. “Don’t forget to eat,” she says gently before leaving me to my work.
For days, I throw myself into rebuilding Shadow, channeling every ounce of my magic and focus into reforging him stronger. Steel. This time, I shape steel. Harder, heavier, resilient enough to endure. Each joint, each plate is carefully reinforced, polished, and carved with purpose. No more fragile wood. No more vulnerability.
But durability alone isn’t enough. The wolves taught me that. Awareness had failed me too. I couldn’t rely on sight alone in the dark where my enemies thrived. I asked Lady Willow for guidance, and she introduced me to two enchantments— and . Night Vision would allow Shadow to see clearly in complete darkness. Threat Detection would keep him constantly aware of hostile entities, even those hidden from sight.
Embedding these enchantments was complex, but I practiced tirelessly, pushing through exhaustion to master the intricate spellwork. Every rune was woven into the steel body with care.
Three days later, Shadow's reconstruction was complete. His new form, forged from polished steel, gleams under the dim lamplight. Though only a few inches taller than before, he now weighs over 350 kilograms. If this body were to fall on me, it could crush me without effort. But that’s the point. This time, Shadow was built to endure. To survive.
I stand before Shadow’s new body, held up by a heavy metal frame. I am exhausted, bags under my bloodshot eyes. Despite WIllow’s protest I have hardly slept or ate in my determination to rebuild shadow. I am so tired that I can barely stand, but there is one last task I must complete.
I place my hand up to Shadow’s chest and sacrifice the last of my energy, mana and concentration to cast the mind transfer spell. The puppet glows for a moment and I feel a mana flow into it.
Suddenly, I find myself looking down at myself, or no, I’m looking at Ren. He sits slumped on the couch, exhaustion carved into his pale face, dark rings under his weary eyes. He looks at me, barely awake, clearly waiting for confirmation.
I look down at my steel hands, flexing my fingers. They move smoothly, no resistance, but the weight—the sheer solidity, is unlike anything I’ve felt before. I ball my fist, testing the strength. When I step out of the frame holding me, the floor groans under my foot, and a deep thud echoes through the workshop.
“Everything feels good. I feel… really strong,” I say, my voice steady.
Ren lets out a long breath of relief, his entire body slumping further into the couch. “Oh… good,” he mutters weakly, his eyes fluttering shut.
I activate the Night Vision enchantment next. Instantly, the dark corners of the workshop come alive, every detail illuminated as though lit by day. Then I focus on the Threat Detection spell. A rush of information fills my mind, directions and distances of every living being nearby. For a moment, it’s overwhelming, but I quickly learn to filter it, isolating only what matters.
“The new enchantments are working perfectly,” I report. I glance back at Ren, but he’s already fallen asleep, his soft breathing the only sound in the room. “That’s all right, brother. Get some rest,” I add quietly.
After dressing in the new clothes, armor, cloak, and mask Ren prepared, I raise my hood and make my way to the castle’s hidden exit. With my Enhance Speed enchantment activated, I sprint through the city streets and down the road toward Lord Griswald’s domain, my steel frame driving me forward without a hint of fatigue. Each heavy footfall pounds against the ground like the rumble of a charging bull. Passersby glance at me in confusion, and I spook the horses of a passing carriage, but I don’t slow down or pay them any mind.
It seems the price of this stronger, more durable body is sacrificing any sense of stealth.
Eventually, I reach Phantom’s remains, little more than bones picked clean, still tied to the tree. I retrace my steps into the forest. In the daylight, it looks far less menacing, though the damage from my fight remains clear. Blasted trees and churned mud mark the place where the battle happened, scattered with blood and the burned, mangled bodies of the wolves.
They seem smaller now
I carefully survey the grotesque, mutilated, and rotting wolf corpses scattered around the area. Before long, I find the one that took my eye. Without hesitation, I draw a dagger from my belt and slice into its bloated belly. The blade cuts effortlessly, and the beast's decomposed insides spill out, pushed by the foul gases of decay.
I am very thankful at this moment that I lack a sense of smell.
I plunge my hand into the gore, digging until I find what I’m looking for, my crystal eye. Pulling it free, I stare at the rare gem, still slick with rotted flesh. “This was hard to make, you bastard,” I mutter, wiping it clean before pocketing it.
One by one, I move to the other corpses and begin ripping their fangs from their jaws. My steel hands make the task effortless, though each extraction is accompanied by a sickening crack that echoes through the otherwise silent forest. I collect the fangs in a small bag, securing the proof of my victory to present to the Adventurer’s Guild.
I look once more at the battlefield, at the wolves that had nearly ended me. Never again.
With my bag in hand, I turn back toward the road.