Fenrir was celebrated as the demon god who commanded wild winds and frost—but for its descendants, that was not a good thing.
In the Age of Gods, when deities still held dominion over the world, life barely survived amid all kinds of natural disasters.
Storms, frost, thunder, plague, the undead…
The planet’s will, mother of all gods, was still growing in a hazy state, and the gods born from these authorities walked the mortal world. Their actions could not be explained by simple good and evil.
Under the ravages of natural disasters, humans and other races favored by wisdom gave birth to faith in order to survive.
Faith allowed gods to walk the world through their believers, and to toy more deeply with the emotions of living beings.
The countless beings who prayed for rain never imagined that it wasn’t because they weren’t devout enough that they were driven by hunger and thirst to abandon everything.
It was that the god they believed in wanted to see that very scene before letting go.
High above the clouds, He laughed at the spectacle of countless beings dancing and flailing as the rain washed over them.
But not all life regarded them as noble beings. Some scorned them, some doubted them, and some were hostile toward them.
In the frozen lands of the far north, the Fenrir of old disdained surviving on faith. In its world, claws and fangs were the foundation of survival.
It despised the races that worshiped faith.
Did a god give you the strength to walk this world?
Did a god raise you?
No—flesh and blood give power, and parents, even nature itself, raise their children!
“We exist under the same heaven and earth. Why should we survive on the charity of these hypocrites?!”
It bid farewell to its tribe and hunted in the world’s most dangerous places.
It was only interested in the strong.
Fenrir’s story began with its search for strength.
What is strength?
Dragons—born with powerful bodies, gifted in magic, and favored by the skies.
But innate strength also created acquired weaknesses.
Greed, underestimating enemies, fear of desperate battles—in Fenrir’s eyes, dragons were the type that looked strong but were hollow inside.
The lowest kind of weakling—one that feared even getting hurt.
In contrast, there had once been a human who trembled as he drew his sword before Fenrir.
What was the reason he refused to retreat even knowing his own weakness?
It began approaching human city-states. Though this race had fragile bodies, they had gradually secured a foothold in this harsh world in their own way.
Its existence spread among humans the legend of a giant wolf that hunted only the strong. People even revered it as a totem.
But this act drew the attention of the gods.
A savage beast actually wanted to encroach on the domain of gods. They sent down divine punishment.
The gods of storm and frost descended, and a long winter swept across the world.
Fenrir saw the human city-states it had once known collapse under the cold, and people began to pray in the ice and snow.
So that was it. Was this the origin of faith?
When it witnessed the gods’ methods, Fenrir clenched its sharp teeth, its ferocious visage fully revealed.
With a long howl, wind and snow were shaken.
Storm and Frost took human form and descended, attempting to tame Fenrir the same way.
In the boundless ice and snow, Fenrir walked alone.
Its thick fur could withstand the cold, and its claws and fangs let it hunt the frostborn.
Even this white hell could not control it.
Finally, the god could not help but act personally. It tore out its fangs, cut off its claws, and stripped off its fur.
Crimson blood dyed the valley where the battle took place red—a hellish scene.
But as it wandered the far shore of death, a rage that devoured everything made its heart beat again.
It would make the gods bleed!
…
And now, Shaya was doing the same thing—baring her claws and fangs before a god.
No longer wrapped in frost and storm, this time it was the purest form of hunting.
The mist completely enveloped her, and she began to run.
Tentacles struck from within the fog, but they could only scatter afterimages.
The Lord of Mist held the authority of loss and devouring.
Within the mist, there was no way out. Life caught by the mist would gradually become part of it.
Seeing Shaya release her frost domain and face it with only physical speed, the Lord of Mist couldn’t help but laugh.
【After all, just a beast—savage and stupid.】
Shaya didn’t respond. She had now entered a state of complete focus, feeling everything around her slowing down.
Deep within her soul, Fenrir’s consciousness was guiding her.
“A pure god has no body, no composition of life—it is an existence that cannot be hunted.”
“Claws and fangs are weapons that tear flesh apart. This is a foundation that cannot be changed.”
“But against a god, what you need is exactly this kind of foundation. ‘Unchangeable’ means even they cannot escape it.”
“So, if it has no body, you give it one.”
Running at high speed, Shaya’s blood and qi circulated, allowing the mist to invade her body through the flowing energy.
Shaya’s body gradually weakened, and the mist began to contract.
【I didn’t expect you to give up resisting so soon. I wasn’t done playing yet.】
What it didn’t notice was that within the mist it had withdrawn, crimson blood energy had mixed in.
Shaya’s body was incredibly strong. The blood energy released during her high-speed run had already spread through the mist—and the other side hadn’t noticed.
Because the other side was unfamiliar with the forms of life, and that was their weakness!
“You’re right, because I wasn’t done playing either!”
Long ago, Fenrir—having lost its claws and fangs—attacked the gods of frost and storm on the verge of death.
Just like the current Lord of Mist, they too were bound by flesh at the moment they thought it was over.
Shaya broke through the mist wrapping around her and bit down on the crimson fog outside.
【AHHHHH!!!】
The entire mist was making sounds, like the wailing of hellish demons surging forth.
Shaya coughed blood as she bit and tore, refusing to let go.
As her blood drained, the Lord of Mist was infected by it—it had been captured.
“If the opponent has no authority similar to devouring, how do I make it be trapped by flesh?”
“What I said earlier was about pure gods, but almost no god remains pure. While they toy with life, they themselves are invaded by life.”
“Even without using our own flesh and blood to accelerate the other’s physical formation, the parts of themselves already invaded by life still exist.”
“And those places are their weaknesses. What you need to do is be patient, and kill with a single strike.”
Now Shaya and the Lord of Mist had entered a bloody brawl. Claws and fangs tore at the Lord of Mist’s flesh, while the mist wreaked havoc inside Shaya’s body.
If she couldn’t find the weakness, then she could only fight it out like this.
Though she was confident she could win, she didn’t want to win too ugly.
After all, the people coming to pick her up had arrived.
After the Lord of Mist gained a deformed body, the intense pain made it unable to adapt for a time.
At this moment, it was just a lump of flesh without facial features, able to move only by relying on a few octopus-like arms.
These octopus arms could previously be used as weapons, but now that the authority of mist couldn’t be used, they were only used to struggle and pull.
It was far too obvious. Shaya shifted her offense and cut off those octopus arms.
Though the thing was still twitching, it had no life left in it.
“Just born and already dead. How pitiful.”
【Damn it, I actually…】
Shaya collapsed to the ground, her breathing growing heavy.
