After overcoming one trialsome obstacle after another, a sliver of sunlight finally pierced through the dark clouds and mist saturated with spatial rifts in the sky, filtering through the dense canopy of leaves to scatter golden patches of light across the cold, dim mountain range.
Crunch. A sturdy right foot clad in a knight's boot stamped down on one of those golden patches, pressing the rotting carpet of fallen leaves deep into the ground and snapping a hidden dry branch in the process.
Following close behind, the werewolf Nasdel thought with mild surprise: How could the Prince fail to control the force of his own footstep? Is he mulling over some weighty question?
Walking at the front was the werewolf Prince Dubner. He had a crop of silver-gray hair, a robust and lean build, and a face radiating arrogance and ferocity — the unmistakable look of an epic-rank knight who excelled in close combat.
Dubner wore strange black armor that was neither as cumbersome as full plate nor composed of overlapping small scales. It appeared to be a "leather armor" crafted with the same materials and techniques as full plate. In his fingers he toyed with a string of verdelite, ocean stone, and sunstone beads as he spoke in an unfathomable tone: "Nasdel, are you surprised?"
"Your Highness, how did you know?" Nasdel blurted out in astonishment. The Prince had guessed what was on his mind without even resorting to extraordinary power? Truly the most brilliant strategist and cunningest schemer of the werewolf kindred!
Dubner narrowed his eyes, gazing toward the pillar of light streaming down through the thick foliage ahead. It was so radiant and clear that he could make out countless motes of dust dancing within it.
"I knew you must be wondering why I didn't simply use the 'Gate to Another World' to reach 'Flame Stone Valley,' but instead chose to walk through this forest at a leisurely pace," Dubner said in that particular tone unique to a "sage."
"Flame Stone Valley" was the location of the Dark Council's headquarters.
Uh, I was actually surprised that you couldn't control your own footsteps — wait, I never once questioned why the Prince chose to walk when it would take several hours to reach Flame Stone Valley! Oh, compared to the Prince's wisdom, vast and deep as the ocean, I truly fall short. I didn't even notice the most obvious anomaly, and the Prince had to point it out to me himself!
Nasdel — who had always prided himself on being clever — froze for a moment, then grasped the Prince's "well-intentioned guidance." Half ashamed and half moved beyond words, he felt genuine admiration for the Prince: "Yes, Your Highness, I am indeed surprised."
Ha. Dubner laughed silently to himself. Your thoughts are just too easy to read. As the most cunning and intelligent prince of the werewolf kindred, all it took was a bit of deduction: "This council session was jointly proposed by Dionysus and Dracula. They want to consolidate the Council into a single, well-ordered body that can actually enforce its will, instead of the toothless arrangement we have now — where the Mind Flayers pursue their own agenda, the Beholders follow their own whims, and infighting erupts the moment no one's looking."
"Overall, that's a good thing, but not necessarily for us werewolves. Only I and Sonit have reached Legendary rank, which puts us far behind the seven Primordial Dragons of the dragon kindred and the four Progenitor Vampires of the vampire kindred. Moreover, both Sonit and I have been stalled at the third stage of Legendary for ages, nowhere near the peak levels of Dionysus and Dracula. If the Council gets unified, we might just end up as slaves to those damnable vampires."
Listening to the Prince speak at length, laying out the future and circumstances of the werewolf kindred with perfect clarity, Nasdel's eyes lit up. His heart was equal parts shaken, worried, and filled with fervent admiration. Sonit and the other princes always mocked their own prince as someone with nothing but muscle between his ears — bloodthirsty and brutal, incapable of thought. But could any of them have produced a speech like this?
The werewolf kindred had several princes, but only two had reached Legendary rank.
Dubner's expression turned solemn and grave: "That's why I chose to walk — to give myself time to think about how our kindred can escape this predicament and extract the greatest possible benefit from this situation…"
Gazing at the Prince's towering back, Nasdel felt his nose and eyes stinging. It was too moving. Even a werewolf as tough as himself couldn't hold back his emotions. The Prince was truly the conscience and hope of their kindred — their savior.
"Your Highness, have you found a solution?" Nasdel asked, a hint of urgency in his voice.
"…It's a complex and difficult problem, not so easily resolved…" Dubner's tone grew heavy. Then, suddenly, his nostrils flared and he said gravely: "I smell something unfamiliar."
An unfamiliar scent? A stranger who had made it safely into the depths of the Dark Mountains? Nasdel felt every strand of his wolf fur beginning to stand on end — until he caught sight of the Prince's majestic silhouette, and his composure returned.
Dubner abruptly turned his head and lunged forward. A tremendous gale erupted, snapping towering trees like twigs and revealing a lake shimmering with faint ripples in the distance.
At the edge of that lake, where the wind struck, "space and time" wavered like disturbed water, and a figure slowly materialized. He wore a black double-breasted frock coat and a matching top hat. In his right hand he held an exquisite, intricately engraved silver-white pocket watch. It was none other than Lucian.
Lucian showed no surprise or panic, merely nodding slightly. The acute sensitivity of a Legendary-rank werewolf to changes in the surrounding environment was every bit as extraordinary as the Council's texts described — perhaps even more exaggerated.
ROAR!
Dubner's silver-gray hair bristled strand by strand. His jaws yawned open as sharp wolf fangs sprouted, and his golden eyes were overlaid with a film of silver-white.
His body crouched halfway down like a great bow drawn taut with stored power. Dozens upon hundreds of dark shadows coiled around him.
His eyes suddenly blazed with light, and that layer of silver-white vanished in an instant.