Chapter 4

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When Lanie turned around, Allen was already standing at the bedroom door. The five-year-old boy was unusually calm. Allen asked softly, "Mom, what are the Predators?"

"Devils," Lanie replied simply, adding, "pitiful devils."

Many years later, Allen would understand the meaning of these words. But now, Lanie had no time to let him grasp them: "Allen, we have to leave. Take your dagger, and don't pack anything else!"

The mother and son took their simple luggage and just ran out the door. A flash of fire came from the town entrance, followed by an explosion not far from a row of bungalows. Flames spewed from the windows and doors of the bungalows, lifting the roofs and shooting ten meters into the sky!

With the burst of fire, a powerful shockwave spread out, throwing Lanie and Allen back into the house. They fell in a heap, and after a few seconds, Lanie recovered from her dizziness. She shook Allen, and the boy struggled to get up, indicating he was fine. As they turned to leave the house, Lanie saw several figures emerging from the fire a few meters away.

They were men, but not from the town. They were painted with oil or had tattoos, and they held chainsaws or submachine guns, slaughtering nearby residents. One of the men looked at the house, his gaze meeting Lanie's in mid-air.

Lanie gritted her teeth, rushed over to close the door, and dragged a table to block it. Then she ran back, lifted a patched blanket in the corner of the room, revealing a cellar. It was usually used to store food. Lanie opened the cellar and gestured for Allen to come over.

Allen seemed to know what was about to happen. His body trembled slightly, but he didn't say a word. He walked over, and Lanie kissed his forehead, saying, "Stay here and don't come out, Allen. You must survive! And use that dagger to kill your father. His name is Archimedes. Without him, we wouldn't be cursed like this!"

Allen's whole body shook. He instinctively remembered a name: Archimedes. In the cellar, it wasn't completely dark; faint light and some sounds came from above.

The sound of the door being pounded.

Then a loud noise, as if something heavy had fallen. Lanie's scream and the sound of a gunshot rang out simultaneously. Allen sat huddled silently. Suddenly, a violent explosion sounded overhead, and scorching flames swept over the cellar. The intense light shone through the flimsy wooden door onto the boy's face.

It was the sound of a grenade exploding.

That night, screams, roars, and explosions echoed continuously. In the small cellar, Allen sat motionless like a statue. He didn't cry or make a fuss, just as he hadn't on the night he was born. But his bright red eyes were misty with tears.

At the same time, a corner of his young heart became hard and cold.

No matter how long the night, it would eventually pass. When Allen came out of the house, he saw a large area of scorched earth. The street, which had been covered in silver snow the day before, now lay bare and black. Scattered on the scorched earth were fragmented bodies. Among them, Allen saw a severed finger with a silver ring blackened by fire.

An indescribable sadness welled up in his chest, and the boy took a deep breath to keep from crying.

It was Lanie's ring.

On the town's streets and in the collapsed houses, bodies were everywhere. Many were town residents, mostly men, but also some women and children. Not far away, Allen saw Moss, the chubby boy a year older than him. He had just fought with Moss recently, and now, poor little Moss was only half a body, the other half nowhere to be found.

Allen looked up, appearing somewhat dazed. The town had no living souls left, whether survivors or the so-called Predators, they had all left before dawn. The world was vast, seemingly boundless; yet it was also small, too small to accommodate a boy.

For a moment, Allen didn't know where to go.

Allen wandered aimlessly down the street. A light breeze blew from behind, carrying a faint scent of blood. As he turned, a black shadow pounced from the house behind him. His mind buzzed, and then everything went silent. His pupils dilated, allowing him to see that the black shadow was a wolf.

A wolf as big as a calf.

Its body was covered in gray fur, and its powerful jaws could easily bite through a few centimeters of iron, let alone Allen's neck.

This was a snow wolf, a first-class dangerous species that only hunted in winter. Normally, experienced hunters could deal with such dangerous species, but Allen was just a five-year-old child!

To the snow wolf, this was an easy meal. Although human children didn't provide much meat, they tasted delicious, and the snow wolf couldn't wait to drink the warm blood from the tender neck. But when it saw the boy's red gem-like eyes and the silver-gray pattern that appeared around his pupils, the snow wolf felt fear!

It was as if it had encountered its natural enemy, not a tender and delicious human child.

Everything happened in an instant.

The snow wolf didn't bite Allen's neck. As the wolf pounced, Allen instinctively rolled forward, ending up under the wolf's belly. The dagger in his hand stabbed upward, and with the wolf's momentum, it opened a long wound in the wolf's belly.

Wolf blood, intestines, and organs splattered over the boy. When Allen emerged from the wolf's body, he was covered in blood. But before he could recover from the shock of his narrow escape, countless green dots appeared at the street corners, on the houses, and elsewhere.

Snow wolves, dangerous creatures, usually acted in groups. There were 23 of them, surrounding Allen.

Allen's attention was entirely on the snow wolves, and he didn't notice that the blood on his dagger, the Demon's Praise, had completely disappeared.

Only some dark red stains remained on the blade, the blood of the dead.

The wolf pack didn't rush to attack. Allen looked at one of them. It was the smallest, with a silver coat, and it had a light that the others lacked.

A hazy, silver-white light. Cold and deadly, like a late autumn breeze.

The silver wolf stepped forward, circling Allen. It sniffed around him with its slightly damp nose, and the boy remained stiff. Although it only took a few seconds, it felt like an eternity to Allen.

The silver wolf stepped back a bit, and its mouth opened, speaking in a human voice: "Are you afraid of me?"

Allen was utterly astonished.

The silver wolf smiled in a human-like way: "Although our body structures are different, we can still simulate human voices by vibrating certain muscles. Have you never seen this before?"

The boy shook his head honestly.

A hint of surprise flashed in the silver wolf's clear blue eyes, and it continued: "You don't smell bad, I like you. Your kind is all dead. How about coming with me? Or becoming our lunch?"

"Will you kill me if I go with you?"

"Of course not. On the contrary, I'll teach you how to hunt. But if you want food, you'll have to get it yourself, just like my other companions."

"I'll go with you." Allen didn't hesitate. He hadn't forgotten his mother's final request. No matter what, he had to survive, even if it meant living with snow wolves.

Surviving was the only way to fulfill Lanie's last wish!

So that day, a young boy and a silver snow wolf left the town that had just experienced a massacre.

"By the way, my name is Bai Fang," the silver wolf said on the way.

"My name is Allen."

The boy hesitated for a moment and asked, "Why are you letting me go?"

"Because you're afraid of me, and because I'm lonely..."

The world doesn't stop for anyone, and time always moves forward at its own pace. Five years passed in the blink of an eye.

In the year 433 of the Dawn Calendar, summer.

A group of soldiers moved through the forest. They were a hunting team, accepting various commissions and sometimes hunting rare dangerous species for profit. The team had only three members, all of whom were Source Force users, especially the team leader, Andy, who was a ninth-level Source Force user! The soldiers were actually hired from the nearby Gaul City, simply because these mercenaries were familiar with the local environment.

At this moment, the mercenary captain, Gute, said, "Boss, we're not far from the wolf den. Text first published."

Team leader Andy looked at him and said, "Captain Gute, are you sure those damn snow wolves are nearby?"

"Last month, when we accepted an official commission from Gaul City to conduct a routine biological survey in this area, we indeed found the snow wolves' den. If they haven't moved, we won't be wrong." Gute paused and emphasized, "Summer is the season snow wolves hate the most. During this season, they usually hide in cool caves to spend the entire summer, so the chances of them moving their den are slim."

"Excellent." Andy jumped up, his eyes gleaming with greed: "I heard there's a silver snow wolf in this pack. The fur of a silver snow wolf is priceless! It looks like we can't help but get rich this time."

As the hunting team appeared, on the other side of the forest, a horned deer was wandering through the grass. It had a complex, crown-like antler, its weapon for self-defense. It was using its antlers to push the grass, a way to test for hidden dangers. After confirming there was no danger, it began to graze on the green grass, extracting water and fiber to sustain itself.

Suddenly, the horned deer lifted its head, and its powerful hind legs pressed into the ground, launching it into a graceful arc. The deer sensed danger, a nearly instinctive perception that had saved it many times. But this time was an exception. A flash of silver suddenly appeared from the nearby tree shade, and the deer's body in mid-air trembled violently, followed by a mournful cry as it fell to the ground.

A sharp dagger had pierced its neck, buried to the hilt. The deer's eyes were filled with terror, and it could feel something being drained from its body. It didn't die immediately, its limbs flailing helplessly, but it could only watch in despair as the predator emerged from the tree shade.

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