Chapter 3: The White Wolf
The white wolf whimpered and a dark and dangerous aura was coming off of Asher again. This time, it holds another different murderous intent, much more dangerous than when Asher had killed the hunting squad or the pack leader. It contains the souls of thousands of victims, all killed without hesitation, brutally and viciously. He turned his head from one victim to the next, but his eyes. His eyes were red, glowing red, the entire eye. Leaving his daggers, both gleaming blue, in the brown wolf's gut remains, he strode towards the white wolf. The wolf was shivering, scared beyond belief, this would be the thing that everybody fears, and the wolf is not the first to witness it, however, it is the only living one to witness it. The wolf couldn't move, it's leg tendons torn in the last fight and its neck on the verge of breaking, all it could do is watch as the being approached it. Asher's hair stood on end, his face clouded by darkness and only glowing red eyes were seen.
His fist clenched and his voice, calming and beautiful, he who would often talk to himself, was silent, not even a breath could be heard. You could have doubted he was breathing at all. The wolf now noticed that it wasn't just Asher who was silent, the world was. The forest the Wolf knew to be lively and fun was breath taken by the beast it now contains. The birds singing or the grass dancing in the wind, even the wind itself, all just gone, just him and a monster. The wolf accepted his fate, his short-lived dream and the rules of the forest. Asher raised his fist and the White Wolf had let out a tear, facing his demise. The fist lowered, at an astonishing speed, no kindness involved or ending your suffering, just a brutal hit, again and again. Bones crunched, skin tore and blood splattered. The ending of a life had already occurred for the wolf, his mother was raped by the pack leader and she gave birth to a 3 wolf litter, two became hunting wolves, killed by Asher, and The White Wolf, The runt of the litter. His mother suffered an abusive death by his mother's first mate, angry that she was raped but he could not take it out on the pack leader, so the mother was the one who died, and now, The Poor Little Runty White Wolf would join his family in a sad reunion. The birds stationed on the tree branches, the insects on nearby plants and the white wolf's family from the other world took pity on the poor wolf.
Asher's red eyes had dimmed away after another few hits, he blinked and returned to the deep blue eyes he normally had, compassionate yet dark, and noticed the wolf painted in red with its own blood, and it let out a soft whimper. Asher's left hand was around what was left of its neck and his right hand oozing out the wolf's blood. His sixth sense let loose and realised the intention of the wolf, 'to be friends.'
Asher's heart ached, and his hand throbbed. His mind crazed and regretful, he didn't even think about how this even happened. His eyes bawled out emotions in the form of tears. He screamed and yelled until his voice croaked. Asher was sorrowful, pained and regretful. 'The poor wolf,' he thought to himself. Asher decided that The White wolf will experience his quest with him. However morbid it may be, Asher will take a piece of the wolf to remember him by. It is a form of apology for this weak little runt, an apology of not just Asher, but Asher's apology on the behalf of this evil world this poor soul lived in. He murmured over and over, under his breath as tears rolled into his mouth, "I'm sorry little one, I'm sorry."
Asher tore off the tail of the wolf and wrapped it around his belt. He solemnly stood up, and walked slowly, head hanging down from his neck, to retrieve the blue daggers. Pulling them slowly out of the corpse, with only a minor hint of energy, Asher walked himself and the bloodied daggers towards the wolf.
"Not only will I take a part of you, I will consume a part of you, and carry on your will, to become strong. I, am weak. No amount of murder, destruction or arguing can dispute that fact..." Asher monologues in a regretful tone, as he carefully slices the abdomen of the White wolf open, reaching his hand in and forcing out a bone from the body. A relatively small bone, one only two widths of a hand, yet it had a faint blue shimmer.
"Therefore, you will be a part of me so I gain strength. Katanalóno"
Thin blue streams of light elegantly flow through the air, creating a surrounding dim glow around Asher. He hummed a magnificent tune as those streams thinned themselves out into bright strings, seemingly condensing themselves, then wrapping around three different parts of Asher's body. One string of gleaming blue light wrapped tight around his jaw, one around his left lower arm, and one on the left side of his waist. Each of these strings flashed brightly, blindingly bright, comparable to a fire, then coming back to a steady brightness. They slithered down Asher's body to the same point, in the centre of his chest, before all three of them spiralled together tightly and sunk into Asher's skin slowly. His face showing a pained expression hitting the limits of silent endurance, parted his lips to unleash a quiet groan of pain growing into loud moans of agony. It felt like hell to Asher, his bone being ripped out and replaced by condensed strings of light. His thoughts dulled down into constant repetition of the complaint, "Why must strength hurt so badly!?"
The little light he had in his eyes faded as his body hit the soft grass below. The pain wearing down enough to have coherent thoughts, but the cost of enduring that pain ruining his energy. A last fading giggle exited his mouth, "Hehe, that makes..four.."
The strong young man finally couldn't win against his fatigue, and passed out on the floor.