The rest of the group members quietly watched the scenario without interfering. While some were even laughing mockingly as they were enjoying watching Miles being mistreated by Ryan. Miles’ fingers worked. The sting across his chest from earlier flared as he shifted, but he didn’t flinch. It was a norm for awakeners especially, hunters to look down on unawakened individuals like himself so it was only best that he endured the insults as there was nothing he could do against a bunch of awakened hunters. Being a porter for hunters going on a raid to the outlands was the fastest way for Miles to earn money in order to save up for his sister's medical bills and other expenses. was the only way that he could. Despite the risk, and low chance of survival it was the option he always took without hesitation. ‘Hey Ryan, why did you have to hire this guy? He is too weak for this kind of job....” Jax asked, looking at Miles with a disdainful glare. “Jax is right! You should have hired

Ryan approached the door of the boss' room. “Is everybody prepared?” he asked without looking back at the rest of his teammates. “Let’s do this,” one of the group members said confidently. “Hey, don’t get in our way as soon as we enter that room or else we will kill you first.” Ryan threatened Miles, who was standing at the back of the group, before he pushed the door open. Inside the room, they found the alpha wolf resting on its altar, awaiting their arrival as they marched in. All members of the squad charged at the alpha wolf at the same time in planned formation. Miles was amazed as he watched how Ryan and the rest of the squad unleashed coordinated attacks at the wolf. He had to admit that even though Ryan was a jerk, he was still an excellent hunter. They managed to defeat the alpha wolf in fifteen minutes. They were now resting as they waited for Miles to remove the mana crystal from the dead body of the alpha wolf before they could leave the dungeon. “Hurry up, twerp. I

Miles tumbled down, sliding down the slopes. He was bleeding profusely but in a desperate attempt to survive he tried to climb his way back. The rocks scraped and cut his hands as tried crawling back up . Behind him, the wolves surged forward, relentless. Pain screamed through every nerve in his body as claws and teeth raked at him. One latched onto his ankle, yanking him backward. Miles kicked with all his strength, but another wolf lunged, clamping onto his arm. He gritted his teeth and scrambled up the steep incline, fingers tearing at rock and soil. Each step was agony. Blood seeped from his wound, soaking his clothes. The wolves’ snarls were deafening, their breath hot and ragged as they closed in, but Miles refused to surrender. He remembered everything—his struggles, the endless taunts, the betrayals, the years of proving himself. He would not die here as a pawn. With a growl, he jammed his dagger into a jagged rock, pulling himself up inch by inch, fighting every pull, eve

The beast attacked as one. Miles barely dodged the first bite, rolled beneath snapping jaws of the second, and raised his arm to block the third— Crunch. Pain lanced through him as fangs scraped bone but the wound healed quickly. Miles was amused but he didn't have time to relish in that though as the beast was charging at him again. He roared, countering with a kick infused with demonic force. The impact sent one head reeling with a fractured whine. The other two struck at once. Miles leapt back—but not fast enough. Claws raked his chest. He slammed into the ground, vision swimming as something cracked inside him. He coughed blood. The beast didn’t give him time to recover. It charged. Miles rolled desperately, barely avoiding being crushed. He staggered to his feet, his lungs burning from exhaustion as his strength was draining fast. Another attack from the monster . Miles vaulted onto a jagged rock, then launched himself downward, plunging the dagger into one skull. T

Miles walked all the way home. The city lights blurred past him as night settled in, but he barely noticed them. His attention stayed fixed on himself—on the uncomfortable pull of torn fabric against his skin, on the dried blood crusted along his sleeves, on the way his boots squelched faintly with every step. His clothes were ruined. The jacket he wore had been slashed open along the side, the fabric shredded where claws had torn through. His pants were no better—burn marks from demonic energy scorched the hems, one knee ripped clean through. Even his hands bore thin cuts that stung each time cold air brushed against them. Anyone who looked at him would know something was wrong. And that was the problem. Miles pulled the hood of his jacket lower, hunching his shoulders as he passed under streetlights. He avoided crowded streets, choosing longer, dimmer routes instead. His heart tightened every time someone glanced his way, every time he imagined running into a neighbor. What a