CHAPTER 141: OATH OF THE WOLVES

Chapter 139 – Oath of the Wolves

"...Oathkeeper."

The deep, resonant voice didn’t echo through the air—it slid straight into Ethan’s mind, weighty as iron chains and yet sorrowful as a funeral bell. The lupine Black Wolf, massive even in death, lowered its head ever so slightly, eyes dim but burning with conviction.

We heard the call. A call for vengeance. If what I feel is true, then I will trade my eternal loyalty... for vengeance.

Ethan’s chest tightened as the wolf’s spectral form wavered. Its gaze flickered not to him, but toward the remains of its pack.

Another presence stirred. A second wolf—larger still, its spirit cloaked in pale mist—stepped forward beside the first.

Me too... Even in death, I wish to remain by his side.

Then came the smaller figures. One after another, the spectral shapes of young wolves padded into the clearing, their translucent paws barely touching the earth. Their tiny muzzles pointed to Ethan, to their parents, to each other. They, too, sought to follow.

But before they could move closer, the parents stepped in front of them, their ghostly bodies solidifying like guardians of memory.

No... my dear children. The father’s voice cracked, more human in its grief than beastly. We failed to protect you. This is our repentance. Allow us... to make things right.

The mother wolf’s tone followed, soft but firm, like the closing notes of a lullaby.

You must go. Live again, not in chains of vengeance, but in peace. In the afterlife, may you find warmth we could not give you here.

"B-but Father—!" one of the pups whimpered, the voice no louder than a breeze.

No buts.

The mother stepped closer now, her massive frame curling protectively around the younglings one last time.

Listen to your mother’s voice... one last time. Please. Let us fulfill our duty as parents. Go on, and live free.

The children exchanged silent, tearless goodbyes. They lowered their heads in a final bow to their parents—then, one by one, their spectral bodies unraveled into streams of silver mist, dissolving into the night sky. Only their lifeless corpses remained in the grass, pale reminders of what was lost.

Ethan clenched his fists. So even after calling them... there’s still a chance they will choose to pass on.

The two remaining figures turned toward him. The great Black Wolf and his mate stepped forward. Then, to Ethan’s astonishment, they bowed.

Help us... fulfill our wish.

Ethan met their eyes, and without needing further words, he understood. Revenge. Retribution upon the orcs who had slaughtered their kin.

He raised his hand slowly, laying his palm upon the crown of the alpha’s head. The coarse texture of spectral fur tingled against his skin, carrying both heat and sorrow.

"...I will."

The moment the words left him, their spectral glow collapsed inward, sinking back into the cold flesh of their bodies.

Almost instantly, the corpses convulsed. Ethan staggered as a torrent of mana surged out of him, golden mist spilling like blood from an open vein. It poured into their remains, stitching flesh, closing ragged wounds, filling hollow eyes with a pale, unwavering fire.

The wolves rose.

First shakily, then with gathering strength. Their paws dug into the earth once more, claws raking shallow grooves into the soil. The pair looked at one another—alive again, even if hollowed—then pressed their foreheads together in a lingering embrace.

When they turned to Ethan, both lowered themselves to the ground, forelegs bent, muzzles nearly brushing the dirt. A gesture not of submission, but of solemn oath.

---

Status Screen

Name: Nyxfang,(Alpha)

Level: 31

Race: Lupine Blackfang (Undead Variant)

Towering over Ethan by four full heads, Nyxfang’s fur is an mid night black that swallows light, his eyes bottomless pits of darkness. The mana coursing through his veins radiates like molten gold against the void of his form.

Name: Seloria, (Mate)

Level: 24

Race: Lupine Blackfang (Undead Variant)

A full head taller than Ethan, Seloria’s pelt mirrors her mate’s—dark, lustrous, unnaturally smooth—yet her gaze carries a softer depth, like midnight water reflecting a hidden moon.

---

[Undead Revival] – [(2)0/20]

The bond was sealed, but not completely...they had a wish still need to be fulfilled.

Ethan lowered his hand, his breath heavy but his resolve steady. Two shadows now stood beside him—not mindless undead, but allies born of love, loss, and vengeance.

The resurrected wolves did not immediately move toward vengeance. Instead, they turned back—toward the eight small, still forms lying in the grass.

Without needing to be told, he summoned eight of his soldiers. Shovels formed from shadow and steel in their hands, and they wordlessly began to dig. The soft, rhythmic sound of earth being turned filled the clearing, the scent of soil mingling with the lingering iron tang of blood.

The wolves approached their children with heartbreaking gentleness. Nyxfang, the massive alpha, lowered his head and nudged one of the small bodies closer with the tip of his muzzle. Seloria followed, her dark eyes glimmering faintly as she carefully lifted another pup in her jaws. Together, they placed each of their offspring into the graves.

The soldiers filled the holes, the soil falling like muted rain. When the last mound was patted smooth, a low, resonant exhale rumbled from Nyxfang’s chest—like a stormcloud finally breaking. It wasn’t a howl, but the release of something heavy, a pressure that had chained his soul even in death.

Ethan watched quietly, his hand resting on his blade pommel. They needed this... a farewell, before the hunt.

The air shifted. The wolves’ heads lifted in unison, nostrils flaring. Though their bodies were dead, their senses remained sharp—if not sharper than before. The forest seemed to whisper into their ears, and their gaze snapped toward the northeast.

The orcs.

Seloria’s lips curled, revealing ivory fangs. Nyxfang’s hackles rose, his massive frame bristling like black thunder.

Ethan smirked faintly. "Found them already, huh?"

Behind him, Sylvie’s wide eyes shimmered in awe.

"B-big sister... they look alive. They move like they’re alive, even when they’re dead..."

Lirael crossed her arms, though her own gaze was just as spellbound.

"I know, right? This man is absurd everywhere. First, summoning soldiers that look human... now wolves that rise from the grave."

Sylvie bit her lip, her voice barely above a whisper.

"C-can I... touch them?"

Lirael’s head turned sharply, blue hair swaying as she shook it.

"I wouldn’t. Not now. Look."

She tilted her chin toward the wolves. They were already moving, low and silent, like shadows flowing through the underbrush.

"They still have something left to do. See how they’ve locked onto a scent? It’s vengeance that drives them. Best not to disturb that."

Sylvie nodded hesitantly, clutching her staff tighter as the group fell in behind the lupines.

Branches snapped underfoot. Leaves whispered overhead. The two massive wolves glided ahead, black pelts nearly indistinguishable from the shadows of the forest. Every movement radiated predatory purpose, the hunt already begun.