2025-07-25 22:02:51Yang Mirae didn't rise as Seojin returned from the back room. The old fan spun through hot air above her head, creaking with each rotation. Soondae, the bat beast, huddled on her head like a crown, mostly asleep.
Seojin cleared his throat. Mirae grunted, shifted, then lazily reached behind the desk.
From a stack of pillows she pulled a folded jacket, black and lean but clearly grown out of by someone long ago. Seojin sat it on the desk.
"It was my last recruit's," she said, voice crackling. "He grew three inches overnight and swore he'd never fit it again. Ended up getting drafted eventually."
She squinted at Seojin. "You look like you could fit it plenty."
Seojin took the jacket gently, unfolding it. It was surprisingly light, lined inside with a thin layer of reinforced fabric. On the back, a faded white emblem—a wolf fang curled into a crescent. The sleeve had a sewn patch: Obsidian Fang: Fight With Teeth.
He slipped it on. It fit loosely but comfortably. The sleeves were slightly long, sleeves grazing his fingers. It felt… right.
"Wear it right," Mirae said, eyes half‑shut. "I don't need it back. Make it mean something again."
Seojin bowed slightly, feeling too awkward to fully express thanks.
"Good night," he said quietly.
"Survive till morning, kid," she replied without opening her eyes again.
Soondae grunted. Mirae jerked and mumbled something about "shut up" before drifting back asleep.
Seojin crept away, jacket fresh on his shoulders. As he backed toward the exit, he felt more grounded than he had in days.
The sidewalk underfoot felt empty now. Storefronts blinked shut. Neon signs flickered out. The city whispered in cooling tones of blue and silver.
Fenrir padded beside him in his smaller form. Silent and regal. The wind rustled, and the jacket flapped.
Seojin paused beneath a streetlamp node—reflections danced over the neck of the jacket. He held his hand up and the surface of a cafe window glowed with translucent windows: quest boards, logging info, and his personal System overlay.
He tapped the prompt to view his Skill Tree.
Three glowing base circles rotated slowly before him: Enhanced Strength, Enhanced Speed, Enhanced Durability.
Small root‑like patterns trailed beneath them, locked. He knew to unlock their evolution paths he needed to max one first.
He hovered over Speed. Would be nice to dash around like the wind, he said aloud.
Fenrir's voice came softly in his head: Speed for what? To run?
Seojin looked around. The plaza was quiet. The wind rustled through fallen leaves. Maybe, he admitted, but even if I'm not fast, at least I could be gone before they reach me.
The wolf didn't respond immediately. Your enemies will not wait for you to run fast, Fenrir finally said. They will strike even when you try to run. You must survive long enough to strike back.
Seojin squared his shoulders beneath the dim lamp. He closed his eyes and thought of every time he'd fallen during training — not failing to land a hit, but blasted to the ground because he couldn't take proper damage. He'd felt his body give out before his mind.
He opened his skill screen again and tapped Durability. All his upgrade points flashed into that circle. It pulsed and bloomed with light.
Within seconds, notifications blazed:
Enhanced Durability → Superhuman Durability (Rank E+)
Trait Tree Unlocked: Endurance EngineChoose Branch Skill: Kinetic Conversion or Last Stand ProtocolA small preview window popped:
Kinetic Conversion: "Absorbed damage becomes internal force that can be released in a counterstrike."
Last Stand Protocol: "If HP drops below 30%, defenses and regeneration increase by 50% for 10 seconds."
He stared at the choices for a moment, breathing shallow, but closed the screen without picking. One step at a time. He didn't pick yet. His eyes burned with resolve.
He retracted the interface. The city remained steady, neon reflections dancing on the glass.
Fenrir padded on beside him quietly.
Seojin reached his block eventually, flicking off the jacket's reflection. The apartment building's lobby glowed faintly through tinted glass.
Before he could press the intercom, the door opened from inside.
His mom stood in the threshold, wearing her uniform top, purse slung over one shoulder. She blinked at him, tired and sharp.
"You're late," she said. "I told you to be in by—"
Then her eyes locked on Fenrir behind Seojin. She stopped. Her purse strap swayed as her hand came up to cover her mouth.
Her knees softened. Seojin felt the world hold breath for a moment.
"You… you formed a bond?" she whispered.
Seojin nodded quietly.
Tears shined in her eyes. Then her expression shifted from surprise to relief to joy. She hurled her purse aside and wrapped him in a fierce hug.
Seojin felt strength in her arms he hadn't tapped into in years.
"Mom," he said. "I'm fine."
"It's okay," she whispered. "You're home."
Fenrir shifted, calm but alert. Looking around warily as the hallway lights flickered.
From behind came a soft voice.
"Seojin?"
His sister, a few years older, stepped out of the living room wearing thick pajamas. She rubbed her eyes and froze when she saw Fenrir.
She stared at Seojin and burst out, "No way! He's real?"
When his mother let go of him, the sister took a hesitant step forward.
"Can I… can I see?"
Fenrir lowered his head slightly. Sister stared in awe, then grinned.
She elbowed Mom. "He's legit."
In the doorway behind them, family beasts stirred into view.
Mom's fox-like creature stepped forward—beautiful orange fur shimmering with ember‑like sparks in its eyes. Sister's beast, a rabbit‑cat hybrid with silver paws, let out a soft hum.
They all tried to check Fenrir out—proud family members showing off.
Fenrir let out a single deep growl, then released a low thread of aura. Like an invisible boundary line. Both family beasts retreated immediately and sat respectfully by their partners.
Seojin rubbed the back of his neck. "He's… a little territorial."
Mom smiled, brushing back hair gently. "So is mine. Must run in the family."
Sister giggled.
They all lingered in the hallway for a moment.
Seojin slipped off the jacket and hung it over a coat hook by the door.
As he unzipped the pockets, Mom's eyes drifted to the white emblem stitched into the fabric. Her expression stiffened.
"You got scouted?" she said quietly.
He looked at her, silent.
"Did they… force you?"
"Mom.."
"Its just that I know how forceful they can be..."
Seojin shook his head.
She rubbed her forehead. "If you ever need help…"
He swallowed. "I'm okay."
She pursed her lips, then rummaged for a second.
She moved away into the living room and returned carrying a sealed black case.
She closed the door behind her.
"I didn't think I'd give you this yet," she said softly.
Seojin stepped forward as she lifted the lid.
Inside was a weapon wrapped in cloth. He unwrapped it gently—first the silken cover, then the velvet lining. Revealed a sleek longsword with a dark steel handle sculpted like a wolf's maw ready to bite. The blade was folded artfully, slender, balanced. The sheath had mirrored trim and etched runic lines along the spine.
He held it. The weight was surprising for such a slim weapon. It felt alive.
Mom watched him. Her eyes glistened.
"This was your father's," she whispered. "He was one of the originals that arose from the first rift. His code name was Wolfbane. He left it to you. He said… if you ever bonded… not until then. That day finally came."
Seojin's chest throbbed with something he hadn't felt in years: belonging.
He leaned forward and rested the sword against his shoulder, holding it in two hands. It responded to him—not with magic, but with resonance. The surface thrummed softly, alive beneath his grip.
He closed his eyes.
She placed her hand on his wrist.
"Be careful," she said. "But don't hold back."
He shut the blade slowly.
"Thanks, Mom."
They stood there for a few seconds. No words.
Night came in through the window as Seojin settled on his bed.
Jacket hung over the chair. Sword boxed on the nightstand. Fenrir curled on the rug. The air smelled of paper and dust and quiet expectation.
Fenrir's voice came inside his head once more. Calm.
"You've begun walking the edge of the world. Just don't fall."
Seojin stared at the ceiling.
If I fall, he thought to himself, I'll drag the world with me.
He closed his eyes.
Previous Chapter
Latest Chapter
Reflection and Bonds
The Obsidian Fang headquarters buzzed with activity, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows through the glass walls. Crates of equipment were scattered across the labs and halls, their contents half-unpacked, wires and mana conduits spilling out like veins of a growing beast. Seojin hefted a crate of training pads, his arms straining as he followed Mirae’s directions to a storage room. Yuna was a few steps ahead, balancing a box of tech components, her ponytail swinging with each step. Pyra perched on her shoulder, chirping indignantly whenever the box wobbled. The air smelled of metal and polish, undercut by the faint pine scent drifting in from the forest outside.“This is worse than training,” Yuna groaned, setting her crate down with a thud. “My arms are gonna fall off.”Mirae, leaning against a lab table cluttered with glowing monitors, smirked. “Quit whining, firecracker. You’re building character.”Seojin lowered his crate, wiping sweat from his brow. The work was grueling
Initial Evaluations and Synergy
The training room stretched wide and open, its high ceiling studded with retractable rings that gleamed faintly under the soft glow of rune-etched panels. The air buzzed with latent energy, a low hum from the tech embedded in the walls and floor. Combat dummies stood in neat rows near the center, their humanoid shapes crafted from magisteel and padded with reinforced foam, designed to take a beating from beasts and tamers alike. Holographic screens floated above each one, blank for now, waiting to display data. Targets and training equipment lined the edges of the room, some scarred with claw marks, others pristine and gleaming. The space felt alive, like it was holding its breath, ready for action.Mirae strode to a control panel set into the wall, her fingers dancing over the glowing interface. With a soft chime, the dummies lit up, their sensors glowing a faint blue, like the pulse of a heartbeat. Holograms flickered to life above them, showing baseline stats: durability,
Exploration and Evaluation
The truck’s engine rumbled low, a steady hum that vibrated through the metal floor. Crates and boxes, haphazardly stacked, shifted with every turn, their wooden edges scraping faintly against each other. Seojin sat cross-legged in the back, his shoulder pressed against a crate marked with the Obsidian Fang emblem, a white fang curled like a crescent moon. The air was warm, thick with the smell of oil and dust, and the narrow windows let in slivers of fading sunlight. Across from him, Yuna sprawled on her back, one leg kicked up on a crate, her phoenix, Pyra, perched delicately on her shoulder. The bird’s ember-lit feathers cast a soft, flickering glow, painting the truck’s interior in hues of orange and gold.Seojin’s fingers traced the edge of his guild jacket, the black fabric still feeling foreign on his shoulders. He wasn’t used to this, any of it. Not the jacket, not the guild, not the weight of Fenrir’s presence, even if the wolf was tucked away in his BestiaCore for now. The la
New Flames, New Fangs
The rest of the school day passed like fog.Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. The kind that made your head ache if you sat too long under them. Class after class bled together — lectures, blackboards, the occasional spark from someone's bonded beast playing beneath a desk. A scaled tail here, a floating eyeball creature there.But all of it blurred to the edges.Seojin sat quiet, back straight, hands folded on the desk. Just like always.Except now… people noticed.The whispers didn't come in waves. They came in trickles — muttered names, side-eyes, darted glances toward his jacket.He caught one of the seniors in front of him squinting at his shoulder — the patch barely visible beneath the collar of his uniform. "Obsidian Fang," it read. Black thread on charcoal fabric. Barely noticeable unless you knew what to look for. But in a school like this, people noticed guild colors."Isn't he the one who—?""Didn't he fail his summon, like, four times?""I thought he was cursed?""Then wh
The Wolf Beneath the Skin
Seojin woke before his alarm. Not jolted or groggy, just there, awake, eyes open to the faint blue of early morning threading through the blinds.The apartment was still. The hum of the fridge, the occasional thump of a pipe, but otherwise… silence.He sat up, dragging the blanket off his legs. His uniform, freshly ironed, hung on the back of his door. Next to it, draped carefully on the same hook, was the jacket Mirae had given him.Black. Sleek. A little big in the shoulders, but it carried a weight he didn't want to take off.The insignia on the back — a white fang curled like a crescent moon — caught the early light just barely. It looked like it was breathing with him. Below it, stitched in faded thread across the sleeve:OBSIDIAN FANG: FIGHT WITH TEETHHe ran his fingers over it once. Then twice."I look stupid, don't I," he muttered to no one.From the rug near his closet, a familiar grumble stirred.Fenrir stretched lazily, his smaller form barely as tall as a beagle, but some
Wolf’s Thread
Yang Mirae didn't rise as Seojin returned from the back room. The old fan spun through hot air above her head, creaking with each rotation. Soondae, the bat beast, huddled on her head like a crown, mostly asleep.Seojin cleared his throat. Mirae grunted, shifted, then lazily reached behind the desk.From a stack of pillows she pulled a folded jacket, black and lean but clearly grown out of by someone long ago. Seojin sat it on the desk."It was my last recruit's," she said, voice crackling. "He grew three inches overnight and swore he'd never fit it again. Ended up getting drafted eventually."She squinted at Seojin. "You look like you could fit it plenty."Seojin took the jacket gently, unfolding it. It was surprisingly light, lined inside with a thin layer of reinforced fabric. On the back, a faded white emblem—a wolf fang curled into a crescent. The sleeve had a sewn patch: Obsidian Fang: Fight With Teeth.He slipped it on. It fit loosely but comfortably. The sleeves were slightly
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