"Awooo!"
The moment they saw the Old Wolf of Farron, the werewolves shrank back into their original forms. Heads lowered, they whimpered in instinctive submission.
Even asleep, the old wolf radiated absolute authority.
"Don't be afraid," Darrick said with a gentle smile, patting their thick fur. "Go stand back. I might look a little scary in a moment."
"Woo…"
Instead of retreating, the wolves pressed against him and lay by his side, refusing to budge. No matter how he tried to nudge them away, they stayed put—stubborn as stone.
"You guys are as stubborn as mules…"
Resigned, Darrick gave up and turned toward the slumbering Old Wolf of Farron. He lowered himself onto one knee.
He had prepared himself as much as possible, but claiming he wasn't afraid would've been a lie. Whether he could return to human form after becoming a monster was anyone's guess.
But more than losing his humanity, he feared losing the things precious to him—
the wolves, the people he had come to know, and those he had yet to meet.
To protect them from demonic harm… he would accept the wolf blood.
"When I think about it like this, it's actually pretty cool… just like something a legendary hero would do."
He let out a laugh. If he ever wrote an autobiography, this part absolutely had to stay—this cool, dramatic line right before the trial began.
Maybe a hundred years after he died, some girl would read it, be moved to tears, and visit his grave with flowers. A nice thought.
He glanced at the Old Wolf and the tombstone behind it.
Who had this wolf been guarding all this time?
[Will you swear the covenant and become a Watchdog of Farron?]
Without hesitation, Darrick swore the oath.
Unlike the Warriors of Sunlight—the second covenant discovered by the people—the Watchdogs of Farron required only one duty:
Destroy intruders who disturbed the peace of Farron Keep.
The Sunlight Covenant offered no power upon swearing. Warriors of Sunlight, like the humble Solaire, had to earn their glory through their own strength.
But the Old Wolf of Farron bestowed wolf blood. Endure its trial, and you gained a strength comparable to the Undead Legion.
Gather the wolf blood of the entire Legion, and one could even awaken the power of a Lord of Cinder.
Fail… and you would become a twisted corpse burning along the roadside of Farron Keep.
Darrick exhaled heavily and clasped his hands in prayer.
Dark blood seeped from the wolf's fur, crawling across the floor like a living shadow. It wrapped around Darrick, sinking into his flesh.
There wasn't much wolf blood, but it was enough to reshape a person.
Darrick shuddered. A surge of power flooded his veins. A giant wolf appeared before him—holding a greatsword in its jaws—displaying ferocious, fluid wolf-born sword techniques in a silent glade.
Was this the Old Wolf in its youth? No… it felt older. Ancient.
An ancestor.
As he watched the wolf's technique, he realized he could replicate it.
The memories were carved into the wolf blood itself.
Just as he sank deeper into the flow—
Agony exploded.
"Ghh—AHHH!"
His body twisted and swelled. Not transforming—mutating.
Dirty, matted fur burst from his skin. His muscles tore and reformed. Madness flickered in his eyes.
Was he… failing?
His thoughts scattered. The world twisted—
—and then fire burst into his vision.
Not real flames. A memory.
But real enough.
His childhood.
His old life—the loving family, the peaceful days—destroyed in a sudden blaze unleashed by demons.
Darrick Chester—born into a family of beast tamers.
Living far from the city, raising beasts. Never imagining demons would come.
But they did.
Blood. Fire. Screams.
The roars of beasts.
The laughter of demons.
He alone survived—shaking inside a cabinet—yet still found, dragged out, and lifted before the demon commander.
A small demon with pale skin and a large purple gemstone embedded in its forehead.
It pierced his left arm, leaving behind corrosive slime. Even now, the old wound still throbbed faintly.
"Hmm… eaten by the wolves you lived with day and night? Rather dramatic."
It threw Darrick to the waiting pack and walked away.
"If you survive, come find me. Whether you kill me or I kill you—it will make for a splendid play. Hehehe…"
But the wolves didn't eat him.
They pretended to be feral to fool the demons—
and protected him.
They licked the demonic slime from his wound. Many lost their tongues for it. Those old wolves still lived on the farm, spoiled by Darrick.
They survived together.
Until today.
Was this the moment life flashed before his eyes?
Was he becoming a monster?
His will alone couldn't stop the transformation. The wolf blood drowned him.
And then—
Sigh…
He heard it again. The sigh of the Farron Legion.
If he couldn't even endure this, they wouldn't even bother sighing.
I have to endure.
I must endure—
"Awooo!"
A wolf howl tore through the haze.
Not the great wolf's howl. His wolves.
They sank their fangs into him—biting hard, drawing blood!
Had they mistaken him for a threat?
No. Never. The bond between him and his wolves ran deeper than any bloodline.
Suddenly—
The pain faded.
His mutation reversed. Fur shed off. His muscles restored. The agony remained, but he could endure it now.
Then he heard the wolves' pained whimpers. Blood dripped from their mouths. Their limbs quivered.
And Darrick understood.
They were sharing his wolf blood.
Bearing the trial together.
If he passed like this, he wouldn't gain full Legion-level power.
But—
It was better than turning into a monster.
As long as he and his wolves stayed together…
They could be called the Farron Legion, too.
Darrick clenched his jaw, resisting the madness.
The wolves did the same.
Time blurred.
Then—
Thud.
He collapsed—still in human form.
The wolves had collapsed earlier, but their eyes were clear.
They had survived the wolf blood trial.
All of them were now Watchdogs of Farron.
A blade-shaped Wolf's Blood Swordgrass fell before him. For the Farron Covenant, it was as sacred as a Sunlight Medal.
Slay intruders.
Protect the Legion's peace.
Offer Swordgrass for the Old Wolf's blessing.
The message echoed in Darrick's mind.
He let out a breathless laugh.
Protect the peace of Farron Keep?
Not now.
Because he was the one about to disturb that peace.
Soon—
Battle echoed again outside Farron Keep. The Ghru and Darkwraiths clashed as always.
Darrick and the wolves cut through the battlefield. Any Ghru or Darkwraith that rushed him—he met head-on.
At last, he stepped through the chaos and reached the gate.
This time, inside the fortress, there was no endless battle.
The last of the Farron Legion slowly rose—exhausted, yet resolute—as if awaiting his challenge.
And Darrick?
He lifted his sword, lowered his head—
—and offered the Farron Legion's ancient salute to the final Abyss Watchers.
The Watcher paused.
Sensing something.
Then—
He returned the salute.
Clang! Clang!
Steel rang throughout the Keep once more.