Scar-Eye’s consciousness drifted in endless darkness. He felt death approaching—yet he refused to yield. The corruption nesting within him had replaced his heart, leaving him in a dazed stupor for far too long.
A chaotic voice whispered in his mind, urging him to submit to the great darkness. But he ignored it. He had to stay with his sister.
The siblings were descendants of the wolf king two generations past. His sister was named Shaya; he was Shatuo. But after a childhood mishap left him scarred across one eye, the pack took to calling him Scar-Eye.
As a pup, he had been the weakest of his litter—so frail that most, including his parents, doubted he would survive to adulthood. Yet against all odds, he endured past infancy, though he seemed perpetually on the verge of collapse. In the end, he became one of the few who lived.
Too frail to rely on brute strength, he honed his mind instead. He dug crude traps for prey, masked his scent with mud, and gradually grew into one of the finest hunters of his generation—second only to his sister.
Unlike her scrawny brother, Shaya was strong, agile, and swift, the wolf king’s favored heir. Despite their differences, their bond never wavered. When Scar-Eye first began hunting and returned empty-handed, the pack shunned him during meals. To keep him fed, Shaya hunted extra prey just for him.
As an adult, Scar-Eye grew carefree, avoiding conflict—an oddity among wolves, yet well-liked. Shaya, meanwhile, was a natural warrior, undefeated in duels and admired by many.
Then came the day their father, the wolf king, was slain by his successor. Overnight, the siblings’ standing crumbled. Unfair treatment during hunts became routine; worse still, the pack turned to outright bullying, encouraged by the new king.
Shaya’s combat prowess meant she was sent on relentless hunts. When separated from her, the pack would “playfully” attack her frail brother.
For a time, Scar-Eye hid the abuse—until Shaya discovered the truth and confronted the old wolf king.
She fought fiercely but lost. Just as the king moved to finish her, Scar-Eye intervened.
Amid jeers, he challenged the king himself. Again and again, he was knocked down—and again and again, he rose. Blood soaked his fur, first his own, then the king’s. When the battle ended at sunset, only one stood: a scarred, skeletal wolf.
——
Memories faded. In the darkness, Scar-Eye glimpsed a sliver of light. He staggered toward it, remembering his sister suffering at a human’s hands. He had to protect her.
Then came waking horror—the sight of himself nearly slaughtering his own kin. Clarity struck like lightning. He realized why he had been so lost, and now, he would break free.
But the dark entity within him was no mere foe. Resisting its corruption this long was already a miracle…
“You’ve held out this long. Why surrender now?”
A voice, frigid as winter gales, snapped his mind back. Before him stood a colossal wolf, blue as glacial ice—a being akin to the very concept of winter itself.
Even as a wisp of its soul, the aura of Fenrir, the Storm Devourer, shattered the darkness around them.
“Who… are you?” Scar-Eye strained to see the wolf’s form.
“Fenrir. The Devourer of Frost, Ruin of Storms, the Distant One who walks the mortal realm.” The name thundered through the void.
“Then tell me, weakling—why do you yield? Is your will so brittle?”
“Great One, I… I’m exhausted. The darkness has no end.” Trapped between corruption and fading consciousness, he was a wanderer in a blizzard, waiting for release.
“You resisted the dark’s pull—so why bow to this filth? Why not crush it?” Fenrir’s roar was a blizzard of fury.
“Crush it? I barely stayed sane! How could I—”
“Take back your flesh. If it can wield your body, why can’t you?” The words hammered Scar-Eye down like an avalanche.
“Take… control?” Confusion gave way to revelation.
The corruption had severed soul from body, leaving his spirit adrift—a river without its source. The only escape was to fight on both fronts: mind and flesh.
Fenrir’s gaze sharpened with approval. “The filth severs the tether, yet fears a true battle of souls. It preys on despair—on your surrender.”
[Prove your spirit’s strength.]
The storm-wolf’s domain vanished. Once more, Scar-Eye faced the abyss—but this time, he charged into the darkness.
The void swallowed him whole.
——Was this the end?
AOOOOO—!
A howl tore through the corruption’s veil. This was no cry of pain—it was defiance.
Scar-Eye’s jaws ripped at the night itself. And this time, he heard an answer—from the world beyond.
——
Reality.
Frost-crusted, his body wreathed in killing cold, Scar-Eye halted mid-strike. His glacial claws hovered a hair’s breadth from Shaya’s throat. One fraction further, and her flesh would have split.
“Welcome back… Shatuo.” For the first time, the wolf king’s voice was gentle—soft as morning dew.
AOOOOO—!
Scar-Eye—no, Shatuo—howled, and the very skies above the pack’s territory trembled.
The corruption, now a writhing black mass, was expelled entirely—forced back into the grotesque sludge restrained by Xueji.