The Sovereign Chronicles novel Chapter 42

In the darkest hours before dawn, Kaelen was jolted awake by a burst of laughter.

A group of men and women strolled past the base of the mountain, chatting and laughing without a care in the world, blatantly ignoring the lethal dangers of the deep forest at night.

"It's them?" Kaelen stayed concealed on the ridge, peering down. As the group crossed a moonlit clearing, he recognized them instantly.

It was the exact same gang that had provoked him at The Fifth Proving Grounds.

Their squad consisted of fifteen Initiates, all boasting high cultivation tiers. No wonder they strutted through the woods with such arrogance.

Kaelen kept his breathing shallow, ensuring he remained utterly undetected. He didn't have the sheer power required to slaughter fifteen elites at once. Not yet.

"Hold up!" A male Initiate in the group suddenly raised a fist.

"What is it?" The others immediately tightened up, flawlessly shifting into a defensive formation. The casual smiles remained on their faces, but their eyes grew razor-sharp.

"Kaelen is close." The Initiate scanned the dark woods with a cruel smirk. He was the one who had deliberately shoulder-checked Kaelen and pawed at his travel pack back at the proving grounds. He hadn't just been picking a fight; he had stealthily dusted the bottom of Kaelen's pack with a specialized alchemical tracking powder.

The powder was colorless and odorless, entirely undetectable to ordinary senses. But he could track its faint signature from miles away.

Under his guidance, the fifteen-man warband had followed the scent all the way here. However, it had been days since the powder was applied. The trail was fading, and he could only pinpoint a general radius.

"We've got him!" The Initiates exchanged bloodthirsty grins, scanning the impenetrable brush and the towering ridge nearby.

"Are you absolutely sure?" A female Initiate stepped forward, gripping a heavy iron whip.

"Dead sure!" The male Initiate was Corbin Shaw, an Upper Initiate at Phase Seven of the Spirit Warrior Tier.

"Break into groups of three and fan out. He's nearby. Might even be asleep."

"Whoever finds him first, don't kill him right away. We all deserve to share in the entertainment."

"We'll sweep this way. You guys take the flank."

"Ready or not, little Kaelen, big sister is coming."

The fifteen Initiates split into five trios, gripping their weapons with wicked sneers. Two of the squads began scaling the very ridge where Kaelen was hiding.

At the summit, Kaelen's eyes narrowed. He drew three throwing daggers from his belt, preparing to strike. He had no idea how they had tracked him, but figuring that out was a luxury he couldn't afford. He had to break out, or they would skin him alive.

But just as he braced his Aether...

"Ahhh!" A bloodcurdling scream erupted from the squad heading west.

"Haha, found him already?" The other four squads immediately pivoted and rushed toward the sound.

But when the fifteen Initiates converged, the blood drained from all of their faces.

From the suffocating darkness of the treeline, dozens of glowing, sickly-green eyes locked onto them. A massive wall of shadows stood in silence, staring them down with cold, calculating malice.

A thick, nauseating stench of blood and wet fur rolled over them.

The air turned horrifyingly heavy.

Spirit Beasts? The Initiates swallowed hard, backing up slowly. But the glowing eyes in the dark didn't retreat; they advanced, step by agonizing step.

As the moonlight filtered through the canopy, the monstrosities finally stepped into view.

A wolf pack!

And not just any wolves—Dire Wind-Wolves!

Over a hundred monstrous wolves surrounded them in a massive crescent. Each one was built like a siege engine, covered in coarse, wire-like black fur. Their claws gleamed like hooked sabers in the moonlight. They bared razor-sharp fangs, drool dripping from their jaws as they tightened the noose.

The fifteen Initiates gulped, their breathing turning frantic. Over a hundred Spirit Beasts? They had hit the 'jackpot'.

"Ignite your Aether! Scare them back!"

Corbin Shaw barked the command, instantly unleashing his Martial Arts. A freezing white mist erupted from his body, creeping silently across the forest floor and coating the dead leaves in frost. He raised his palms, condensing razor-sharp ice crystals in his hands.

The others fought down their panic, igniting their Aether reserves in a blinding display of Martial Arts. They were all at Phase Six of the Spirit Warrior Tier or higher; individually, they completely outclassed the Dire Wind-Wolves.

The pack paused, seemingly wary of the sudden display of magical firepower.

The standoff was agonizingly tense.

"Don't panic! Whatever you do, hold your ground!"

"Stand shoulder to shoulder! Look them in the eyes!"

Corbin kept barking orders. Yes, they were individually stronger, but there were over a hundred of these ruthless predators. If a full-scale slaughter broke out, it would be mutual destruction—or a total wipeout for the Initiates.

From the center of the pack, the Alpha stepped forward. It was larger than a warbull, packed with corded muscle that radiated a suffocating pressure. It looked like a demon of war. With fangs like daggers and paws the size of bucklers, it crushed branches beneath its immense weight as it stalked toward them.

"Wait for my signal! Nobody moves!" Corbin, sitting at Phase Nine of the Spirit Warrior Tier, stood at the vanguard, locking eyes with the Alpha in a cold stare-down.

The Alpha let out a deep, vibrating growl—a battlefield command. Instantly, the entire pack dropped into an attack stance, snarling viciously as they locked onto their prey.

"What is it doing? What do they want?"

A female Initiate panicked, drawing her warbow to full tension. Her arrow was forged purely of crackling, burning Aether.

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