, Sam thought as he stared wide-eyed at the raging monster. A part of him quivered, pulling away at what this meant. A monster. Were they monsters? The questions kept coming, and he had no answer to them, only a new feeling in his gut, a wrenching sickness. He’d killed them all, and he knew he was going to kill this one too. They could talk, but they wanted to kill him. That didn’t take the guilt out of it, though. It settled on him like a wet, heavy blanket. Then his head snapped up as revulsion gave way to panic. He dove out of the way, dodging a grapple from behind.

  Sam cursed. He had to keep his mind steady, or they’d kill him where he stood. There were more. He couldn’t see them, but he knew. Some were hidden back in the shadows of the forest, blending with the darkness. Their furs were like dancing characters in the dark. Sam turned around, trying to discern where they were. He had to run. He had only a few shots left, and after that, he would need to use his hands. That would get him killed. He mused that somehow he was stronger than he was before the Supermoon, but he wasn’t so strong that he could fight off a whole pack of werewolves.

  “Look,” Sam began, heart racing too fast to take full breaths. On any other day, he would have passed out already. “I don’t want any trouble.” His voice came out shaky. But that wasn’t what surprised him most. His voice was different. That and the language he spoke. He had meant to say the words in English, but the language was filtered into something else.

  “You should have thought about that before you killed Eiger! You killed them,” the tallest one barked, its voice tumbling out like the groan of boulders rolling down the side of a mountain. “The accords say it is our time. You have breached that. You know the consequence of that, don’t you? You can’t hide behind your steel and technology for long. We will run you down, dig our claws into your flesh to appease those you have murdered with your cunning and weapon. You will serve as…”

  Sam bolted.

  He’d been stupid; there was no reasoning with a beast, whether it could talk or not. As he ran, he tried to think of a better strategy. But the problem remained that he knew nothing of this place or these beasts. All he knew about werewolves were from movies, books, and edgy rock band music. He couldn’t trust that.

  A shadow solidified into glowing amber eyes and a snarling snout. It shot out of the darkness like the seed of evil, born out of vengeance and all the wickedness he could imagine. Sam slowed down, giving himself a moment to think.

  He could shoot, but that would only reduce his firepower, and from what he could glean from that larger werewolf’s speech, they weren’t going to stop.

  Sam let the monster swing at him. The claws came a breath’s distance from his face, and then he moved left and used the butt of the gun to slam against its rib. Something broke on impact, and the wolf howled in pain, staggering away from Sam. He thought about adding another blow to put it down, but then he felt the others coming. There was no time.

  He ran into the forest, hoping to come out of it soon. But the more he ran, the clearer it became that he was far from any kind of exit. The forest was large, and his only hope, if there was any, was daylight. He had no way to know how long that would be. And what was worse, he wasn’t sure that would help either. For all he knew, these beasts could hunt during the day too. His heart sank at the thought. That would mean he’d still be running and hiding during the day. If the D’Araks didn’t kill him, then exhaustion would.

  Sam hissed, pushing that thought away as he hunkered down behind a tree. He’d thought he was having a nightmare in that darkness. He’d thought he would wake up as pain lashed him, drowning him in the pit of agony. Even as he suffered, he’d hoped to wake up to the familiar smell of his room, the colors of The Legend of Zelda on his screen, and his half-eaten dinner almost falling off his lap. Yet, with every fresh tear of his flesh, every quiet groan to the series of torture, he’d come to realize one thing: it was all too long, too detailed to be a dream. He was really going to die.

  His heart thundered loud in his ears. His right arm ached, but he could live with the pain for now. Anything was better than death, which seemed to hover in front of him. Sam listened again. He was getting a knack for it. He could hear far, could piece out what he heard into components, the whoosh of wind against leaves was different from the rustle of movements. He could hear them panting, and their whispers. He had wondered before, but now he was sure these monsters used different languages. He could understand it, but he could feel the process of something translating their words.

  He looked up, trying to peer through the canopy and see how dark it was out there. Then he tried to come up with an idea. Where he crouched wasn't safe. If he wanted to survive, he’d have to find somewhere hidden. If there was one thing he could tell, it was that these beasts could track him. They’d been following him closely, no matter how fast he ran.

  Sam cursed, staggering back as one of them rounded the tree, claws swinging for his face. He brought his left hand to block and screamed as they dug into his skin. He shoved the beast back, stomping on its chest to push himself far away from it.

  His arm burned, but slowly the pain faded into a dull throb. It flashed sharp teeth in the vilest of grins. This one’s eyes were like the first, haunting gold. They burned with horrifying intensity as it rose to its full size. It was lean compared to the other larger beasts. Where it was supposed to ripple with muscle, Sam saw only the outline of dark fur. But when it growled, he felt the same dread, the very same dripping fear that he might die this time.

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  It didn’t attack, and Sam knew why. It lowered itself, poised to dive, but it didn’t. It was waiting, buying time. It didn’t have to try to win the prize; it wanted the others to come and overwhelm him. , Sam thought just before he attacked.

  He drove forward, his new speed making the darkness blur as he rushed for the beast. His left arm burned as he tensed the fingers into a punch, but he had no plan to use it. This wasn’t the kind of fight he could win with grit and luck. The werewolf relaxed, its body set to take Sam’s charge. Sam slowed just a bit before he reached it and crouched under the sudden swing of large, clawed hands. Once close enough, he could see the monster clearly, its head covering the space above him. Sam came up, gun first, and the shot echoed in the forest’s night like a crack of thunder.

  The beast was stunned, but only for the moment it took death to take it, and then it fell back with a thud. Sam didn’t have to wait long for the message. It popped up like a herald bringing bad tidings. He heard a howl so close his heart leaped, then many others echoed the first. Too many for the few shots left in his gun. Then he turned to the message hovering in front of him and something changed, a new message spooling out of the first.

  [You have defeated a D’Arak!]

  [D’Arak: Data unavailable!]

  You have not met the requirement for this information. Survive the trial period to acquire a complete data log.

  Sam frowned and continued running at a jog. What he needed was somewhere to hide, or a way to mask his scent. Also, more questions bloomed in his mind. If this was a test or some kind of trial, then what was the task? Was it arbitrary? That would be terrible. It would mean there might not be any ending, or perhaps he had to do something to meet the requirement. He tried to think, but nothing was coming to him. Nothing so far had seemed like a trigger for the end of the test. Or maybe he had to kill a certain number of D’Araks? Also, that werewolf said something about an accord. But with who?

  Sam came to a spot where long rays of moonlight speared down, illuminating the trees in front of him. It was like walking out of the darkness into divine light. The trees here were sparse, with lean trunks. They stretched far up, but there was enough space here to let light through in many places. The bushes were low too, and when he looked closely, he saw small animals like squirrels, but with pure, white skin and long tails. They scuttled about the length of the trees, and then they all scampered away as movements came to form behind Sam.

  There was no point running. The sky was wide and dark, and the moon was a full ball of silver light. He backtracked into the light, willing the beasts to follow, and they did. They marched into view, strutting like majestic demons. He hadn’t noticed before, but there was something different about the larger one. Its fur fell to its back like wave after wave of filthy grey. Bones jutted out of its elbow, stretching to a sharp tip, and it was wearing what looked like armor.

  It snapped its maw and then bared its teeth as it inched closer. Sam backed away, hands by his side. Behind the Alpha, more wolves walked into the light. Some were as large as the Alpha, but most were smaller or crouched on all fours, mouths hanging open as they panted.

  “You have given us a night of chase, oath breaker. You have given a night of death,” the Alpha muttered, the words coming out low, threatening, and yet soaked in pain. “You have killed the old, the young, and even Brekker. She was fast, too fast to think, but you killed her. You have washed our night in blood and now you have nowhere to run to.”

  It was right. Sam had nowhere to go that they couldn’t follow. Behind him was an endless field of light that was cut off by more darkness and trees. He wasn’t sure what could possibly be there, but he wouldn’t be safe anyway. If there was a way to trigger this Ascension System, he would only find it by facing the problem. And the problem was wearing tight-fitted armor with a body hewn from iron and eyes plucked from the depth of hell. And it was angry.

  “Behind you is the Wasteland of Scavengers,” the Alpha said. “They offer no support and have no strength to share. You are alone. Believe me, I wish not to go to war with your kind, but blood has been spilled, and blood must answer. We will give you mercy. Your death will be swift, and your end painless. You will feel only the smallest of pain.”

  Sam made a show of thinking about it. His busted arm was beginning to ache more now, and more than that, exhaustion weighed down on him like an extra weight. He couldn’t run if he wanted to. He wanted it to end. But he was human, and if there was one thing he understood, it was resilience. He would claw and crawl to survive. There was no sense in accepting death, fast or not. That wasn’t mercy.

  “Where I come from,” Sam said, bringing his gun arm up. It shook, heaving from being battered earlier. He sighed, trying to forget the pain. “People don’t simply accept death. Not when they can fight. And I have gone through way too much tonight to listen to a dog tell me about mercy.” The werewolves snarled, some taking steps forward with eyes peeled for murder.

  “Come,” Sam whispered. He didn’t have the strength to speak. He would hold out for as long as he could, and whatever happened after that would be in the hands of fate. He held the Alpha’s eyes, noticed the glint of rage in those balls of fierce ember, and knew that he’d just agreed to die most horrifyingly.

  The Alpha howled, and they came for Sam. The fastest coming first. Sam roared! But instead of charging, he backed away carefully. They rushed over themselves, snarling and biting each other to get to him.  They looked smart only moments ago, but now they were back to their base instincts. They were animals again, with only one thought: to be the first to reach their prey.

  Sam squeezed the trigger as one of them reached him. The bullet ripped through its head, blasting its skull at point-blank range. The force pushed it back, using its weight to crush another behind it. Sam ducked just as one lunged for him. He blasted another in the face before he turned on the one behind him with a wide arc swing of his fist. It caught nothing; the beast had dodged, leaving Sam open. Large fists dug into his own gut, lifting him slightly off the ground.

  He hit the ground, a hollow sound rushing out of his chest and throat. He couldn’t breathe, and the night had suddenly got darker. His eyes watered, and the only thought coming to him was that he’d been foolish. He’d thought he was strong enough to take a few with him, but he was wrong.

  He stood up on wobbly feet and staggered back, his eyes blinking fast to focus on the closing horde. They knew they had him now. There was no rush; they would enjoy his dread and then tear him apart slowly as he screamed. A sob escaped his lips, and his body shuddered from the agony along with the deep well of regrets. He backed away, his gun heavy in his hand. He’d held it all night like a lifeline, and it hadn’t saved him. He wanted to run, but he couldn’t. The closer they pushed him to the darkness on the other side, the deeper his despair grew. And then Sam took a step backward, and his foot found nothing.