Howard crouched behind the rubble, peering at the scene.

There they were. The soldiers. Lord Kael. And that Summoned he'd run into before.

He wanted to run and find his father, Arl, but with all the fire and bodies, how could he tell what was happening?

It was horrifying. The beast's throat swelled like a bellows, its translucent skin glowing a sickly red. Another howl was coming.

The Summoned was bleeding. He had never seen one so injured before. His arm was twisted, mangled. And despite that—he was helping.

Howard almost felt bad for throwing that brick at him the day before.

But he couldn't stay here. He couldn't let them kill Lord Kael...

Earlier That Morning

Howard stood with his group, puffing out his chest in front of two church girls.

"You won't believe it," he declared, while his friends rolled their eyes. "A terrifying Summoned saw us yesterday. Looked us straight in the eye."

The girls, entertained, kept eating.

"These two trembled like babies," Howard continued, pointing at his friends.

"Liar!" one protested.

"Pff, that's not even how it happened," the other added.

Howard ignored them and leaned closer to the girls.

"But I stood my ground. Fearless. I walked right up to him and asked, 'What do you want?'"

The girls giggled.

"And what did he say?"

Howard grinned dramatically.

"He said, 'Hand over your stuff, brats.'"

"That's a giant lie, and you know it—" his friend tried to argue, but Howard was already at the climax of his story.

"So I raised my rifle and—bam! He ran off with his tail between his legs!"

The girls laughed again—until a heavy sound made the ground tremble.

Silence.

General Kael.

Howard's stomach twisted into a knot. The girls hid their food and ran into the church.

"Nice going, old man. Ruined my moment," Howard grumbled.

Kael raised an eyebrow.

"How old are you, talking like that?"

"I talk like everyone else."

"Not everyone is a child."

Howard scoffed and turned his head—only to realize his friends had already vanished.

"Idiots!" he growled.

Kael shook his head.

"Let's go see your father."

Howard sighed and followed him.

As they walked through the dusty streets, Kael broke the silence.

"How have your parents been since moving here?"

Howard kicked a can.

"Fine. Everyone's been nice… but it doesn't matter."

"Why?"

"Because the demons will get here eventually."

Kael clicked his tongue.

"Then we'll kill them. That's what soldiers are for. And we have a group of Summoned too—"

Howard let out a dry laugh.

"Yeah, right. 'Summoned heroes'? More like a bunch of pussies."

Kael stopped.

"Watch your mouth. They are still envoys of the gods."

Howard shot him a look of pure contempt. To him, Kael was just an old man clinging to fairy tales. Because he knew the truth.

He had two memories of his brother.

The first: the day he graduated from the academy, grinning ear to ear, ready to be a hero.

The second: his brother screaming in despair. His parents carrying him as they fled, while the Summoned—sent by the church to 'help'—simply walked away. Without even trying.

Howard clenched his fists.

"They're not saviors…" he muttered.

Kael saw his expression and didn't push further.

"Then I will protect them. I won't let anything happen to your father while he's under my command."

Howard swallowed hard. Something warm trickled down his cheek. He quickly wiped the tear away.

They arrived at his house. The smell of stew hung in the air. His favorite meal.

"Thanks, Lord Kael. See you later."

With that, he ran to the door, a smile on his face.

But deep inside, the decision was already made.

He wouldn't let Kael die.

He wouldn't be like the Summoned.

With his telekinesis, he lifted a chunk of rubble and locked eyes with the wolf.

He was ready.

Daion looked up, shaking. Fear had him trapped. His left arm burned like fire, twisted at a terrible angle—but he could still move it.

His sword lay a few meters away. The tip was broken, but it would still work. If only he could reach it...

He tried to stand, but his legs refused. His body wouldn't obey him.

The wolf stared him down, holding his gaze for only a second before energy began condensing in its maw. There was no escape.

With a cry, Daion forced himself up—only to collapse again.

The pig-like beast chuckled, licking both of its mouths in disgusting satisfaction.

He didn't want to die. Not like this.

His eyes burned with frustration, and the words echoed in his head:

"Heroes don't last long here."

He gritted his teeth. What an idiot he'd been! Why hadn't he run when he had the chance?

"What the hell are you doing?! Get up, you idiot!"

A familiar voice rang in his mind. He didn't know whose it was, but it sounded pissed.

His subconscious trying to motivate him? What a stupid time for memories.

The wolf's attack was ready. Omega energy crackled in its throat.

"A pleasure, Summoned… you were a fun hunt."

Daion forced a confident smirk.

"Then shoot, you piece of shit…"

He closed his eyes. The explosion shook the ground with a deafening roar—but something was off. The sound wasn't what he expected.

A yelp. Not his. The wolf's.

Daion opened his eyes just in time to see the deadly blast tearing through houses—but not him. Something had slammed into the beast's snout, hard.

The wolf snarled, its muzzle bleeding.

"Agh… Who the fuck—?"

Everyone turned at once. And there he was. Small, legs shaking, face tense with determination.

"Howard!" Sir Kael shouted, in utter disbelief.

The wolf froze. Its fur bristled, its claws extended, and its countless eyes dilated in fury.

"A brat…? How dare a mere child?!"

Daion felt the wolf's killing intent pierce through Howard like a knife.

"RUN, KID!"

Howard didn't need to be told twice. He bolted, jumping over the rubble.

The beast chased after him.

Daion saw Kael hesitate.

"Go!" he called. "I'll handle pig-face."

Kael hesitated.

"Even if I do, I can't kill it without a divine weapon… and in your state—"

"Don't worry about me."

With a groan, Daion gathered all his strength. He wouldn't last long, but it would be enough.

An unpleasant memory surfaced.

"Tell me you have one of those disgusting-tasting orbs."

Kael rummaged through his bag as the soldiers braced themselves and the pig-like monster advanced.

"Here. But it won't heal you completely—"

"I know."

Daion bit down on it, forcing himself not to gag at the awful taste.

"I just need to move again."

His minor wounds began to close, energy surging through his body—but the pain in his bones remained. Just as that hooded had said, the damage wouldn't fully heal.

Kael wasted no time and dashed away.

The pig-monster watched him briefly, but Daion hurled a rock straight at its face.

It turned, growling, its charred tusks still smoldering.

Daion extended his hand—his sword flew to him. Catching it sent a jolt of pain through his body, but he didn't let go.

He held firm, ignoring the agony.

"Your fight is with me. Let's finish this."

The pig-monster roared in fury. It spread its arms wide and charged at Daion and the soldiers, trampling several in its path. It didn't finish them off—just swatted them aside. Its real target was clear.

The only one who could fight back.

Daion braced himself, but the monster was already on him. It lunged, propelling itself forward with brutal force.

Daion slashed through the air—missed.

In a blink, the beast landed behind him. It winced in pain from the impact, but its smug grin never wavered. Before Daion could turn, a fist slammed into his chest.

The blow sent him flying, crashing into the rubble.

Daion rolled to his feet, brushing off the dust. He locked eyes with the pig and raised a taunting hand, daring it to come at him.

The glutton snorted and advanced slowly—until a soldier intercepted it.

A spear plunged into its side.

The pig let out a quiet grunt, as if it had only felt a splinter.

The soldier swallowed hard, frozen in terror as the monster raised its massive axe.

Daion didn't hesitate.

He hurled his sword.

The blade slashed through the pig's arm before the axe could swing down.

The beast barely had time to look up before Daion was already on him. Leaping forward, he drove his fist straight into the creature's snout.

The pig stumbled.

The soldier took his chance and fled.

Daion didn't let up.

He jumped again, using his momentum, and unleashed another full-force punch. But this time—

CRACK.

His fist slammed into one of the tusks protruding from the monster's neck.

Pain shot through his hand, but he didn't stop.

He landed, twisted his body, and threw a perfect uppercut with his other arm.

The pig coughed up blood.

His hits were working.

Daion inhaled sharply, adrenaline flooding his veins. He stretched out his hand—his sword flew back to him.

This was it.

He prepared for the final blow.

But then—the pig grinned.

At the last second, it caught the sword with its upper left arm. Daion tried to yank it free, but the beast's lower arms clamped onto his clothes like iron shackles.

In an instant, it hoisted him up to eye level.

The pig was bleeding, battered—but its grin remained. Wide. Satisfied.

Its lower mouth licked its lips, eager for Summoned flesh.

"You made the same mistake again, idiot," it growled, a deep, guttural laugh rumbling from its throat. "Too bad you won't get the chance to learn from it."

Daion thrashed desperately, straining every muscle in his body, but the monster's grip was like steel.

"Shit!"

The beast's mouth opened—hot, rancid breath washing over him.

Ready to devour him whole.

Panic seized him.

His mind blanked. His body stopped responding.

All he could do was kick and struggle—useless.

"Please… I don't want to die…"

He wanted to cry. But even that was beyond him.

"A Summoned, begging?" the pig mocked, savoring every moment. "What a pathetic hero."

It turned him easily, holding him up like a trophy. The soldiers looked on, helpless.

Daion fought to think—any plan, any escape. But his mind was empty.

He stretched out his right arm, praying for the same power that had saved him before.

Nothing.

The pig tilted its head, intrigued by his futile attempt.

Daion exhaled shakily, lowering his hand.

Maybe those idiots were right.

Maybe this was the part where someone would swoop in and save him. Like in those ridiculous stories he used to hear.

"I don't watch anime or whatever. That's for freaks."

A different voice echoed in his head—a man's this time.

Of course.

No one was coming.

Time slowed.

He looked at the pig again. Everything about it was grotesque.

Why did they call it "The Glutton"? Just because it was a pig?

His eyes traced over its body, searching. Anything.

The tusks. They ran from its shoulders up its thick neck, curving toward its snout.

Strange design.

Why? It couldn't just be aesthetic.

Then—it clicked.

A creature this massive had a weak point.

Its spine.

One of the tusks was already cracked from his last hit.

"What's wrong, kid? Giving up already?"

The god's voice rumbled in his mind.

Daion gritted his teeth.

No. He wouldn't.

Fear twisted into rage. Adrenaline surged through him.

As the pig's mouth drew closer, he gathered every last ounce of strength and punched it straight in the snout.

The monster snarled in pain.

"Don't fight with honor…"

Power crackled down his arm, surging into his gauntlet.

He spread his fingers.

A blast of energy erupted.

The recoil was brutal. His bones snapped from the force.

But it worked.

The shot tore through the pig's open mouth.

The beast dropped him on reflex.

Daion landed on his feet. His knees buckled, but his left arm still worked.

He pivoted.

"Every monster has a weak point. Hit it—and they die."

Jack's words echoed in his head.

Daion felt Omega energy flood his body.

With a furious roar, he drove his feet into the ground and struck.

Steel met bone.

His one shot. Everything he had.

The tusk shattered.

His sword carved through flesh, spine—then the second tusk.

The pig's massive body collapsed onto its back.

Dead.

Its head rolled beside him with a sickening thud.

It still twitched.

Without hesitation, Daion split it in two with a final slash.

Then he dropped to his knees, gasping.

His entire body burned.

Had he won?

The soldiers erupted into cheers.

Relief swept through them. They clapped, shouting his name.

It was a strange feeling.

Daion felt himself on the verge of collapse.

He had done it.

He had proven himself.

But then—

A howl tore through the night.

The Wolf.

He had almost forgotten.

Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to stand.

The soldiers looked at him, confused.

To be honest, he didn't understand why he was moving either.

He could tell himself it was logic—if they didn't kill the Wolf now, it would slaughter everyone later.

But it was more than that.

It wasn't just the thrill of hearing his name chanted in victory.

It was something deeper. Something pushing him forward.

"You wouldn't abandon me, would you?"

A playful, feminine voice whispered in his mind.

Daion locked eyes on the inferno raging in the distance.

And he ran.

End of chapter 11