After that fateful night, the human captors increased their pace significantly, moving through the changing terrain as if desperately trying to outrun their own shame. Over time, the white wolf, aided by his flawless memory and keen intellect, began to systematically learn their spoken language. Though he was entirely unable to speak it himself due to the many physical differences in his vocal anatomy, he came to understand it perfectly, finding the structured dialect far more precise than the guttural communication of demonic wolves. He also began to decipher the subtle gestures and hand signs the humans used to convey hidden meaning.
Through careful listening, he pieced together that his captors were a small, ruthless group of bandits who called themselves the "Money-Seeking Bandits." They routinely captured and sold living creatures as slaves, raided other human settlements for wealth, and possessed absolutely no moral compass beyond their relentless pursuit of gold. The white wolf did not yet understand the practical value of this "gold," but he knew with certainty that it was their ultimate, unifying goal. Despite their despised status as criminals, their leader held a noble rank in a powerful human kingdom, making their operations virtually untouchable by the local authorities.
On the sixtieth day of their long journey, the caravan finally broke through the dense treeline of the Endless Forest and descended into the lowlands. For the first time, the white wolf saw other humans laboring under the scorching sun or entering the very forest the bandits had just left. The bandits, with their threadbare garments and blood-stained gear, stood out from the civilian humans, who looked upon the arriving wagon with a complex mix of disdain and envy. The white wolf also noticed that some of the more sophisticated clothes worn by the wealthy onlookers were made of smooth beast skins, which he correctly surmised were the processed hides of demonic beasts like himself. A horrifying thought began to form in his mind: was this his ultimate destiny?
As they neared the heart of human civilization, the white wolf's internal fears grew exponentially. They passed through sprawling towns and heavily fortified military checkpoints, and the more he witnessed, the more he understood that the fate of beasts in human society was far from ideal. Humans had found all sorts of creative, morbid ways to utilize their bodies: for belts, shoes, armor, and even as exotic food. The first time the wagon passed a grease-slicked tavern and he saw a human tearing greedily into cooked beast meat, the white wolf was overcome by a violent wave of nausea until he fell into a dead faint, waking up hours later still shivering with absolute revulsion. While demonic beasts did occasionally eat other demonic beasts in the wild, it was an incredibly rare occurrence; as sentient beings, they vastly preferred hunting normal animals. The white wolf had always known that the powerful rule the weak, but humans took this primal concept to a new, terrifying level of industry.
Soon, the traveling group reached the outer gates of a massive city. The city walls were immense, a staggering size that astonished even the captive beasts who had spent their entire lives in a wild world of giants and mountains. The guards opened the gates wide for the bandits without asking for identification, and inside, the white wolf saw more humans than he had ever imagined existed—a chaotic sea of people moving in every direction. The language he had spent the last two months learning was dominant here, which provided a small, grim comfort to his analytical mind.
The heavy wooden wagon was pulled through the crowded city streets to its final destination: a large, blue building with a prominent sign hanging above the main entrance. The white wolf could not yet read the written characters, but he knew with a deep, sinking sense of dread that they spelled nothing good for his pack, or rather, what was left of it.