The Request

The mountain wasn't very tall. Apart from the snow on the peak, the rest of it was covered with bare, dark brown rocks. From halfway up, not a single tree could be seen, making the barren landscape appear both ugly and desolate. Baroque followed the silver wolf cub to the top and entered a sloping cave through a crack between two snow-covered rocks.

Despite having imagined what he might encounter, Baroque felt a twinge of disappointment when he saw the wolf in front of him. A regular-sized wolf lay in a nest made of dried grass and branches, eyes closed, seemingly lifeless. Unlike the shimmering silver fur of the cub, this wolf's fur was a withered white, curled and tinged with a dull yellow, looking even less impressive than the frost giant wolf lying unconscious outside. The only notable feature was a diamond-shaped crystal embedded in its forehead, clear and naturally integrated into its body.

The silver cub cautiously approached the white wolf, nestled close to it with a look of reverence, resting its chin on its front paws, calm and docile.

Baroque bowed slightly out of respect for the strong, even if it was just a beast. "I am Baroque, a beastman, here to pay my respects. Your child mentioned that you are Hebradon wolves, though I know little about your kind... I have never even heard of it."

The white wolf slowly opened its eyes. The silver gaze fell upon Baroque, giving him the uncanny sensation of being completely seen through, as if he had no secrets left.

"Descendant of the Frostwolf clan, it is a fortunate surprise to meet you in my final moments," the white wolf said in a dry, weak voice, as if it were gravely ill or severely injured, its life force nearly depleted.

"Perhaps you are mistaken. I come from the Gravel Wasteland, not from the Frostwolf clan," Baroque explained, feeling it best not to conceal anything from this seemingly wise white wolf.

"No mistake. The bloodline of the Frostwolf clan cannot be disguised. You are indeed one of them," the white wolf wheezed, as if speaking sapped its strength.

"Honored one, is there anything I can do for you? You must know, I did not intend to intrude upon your territory. Perhaps I can offer some form of compensation," Baroque suggested, feeling an immense pressure despite the wolf's frailty, a pressure so real it felt like a heavy shackle on his spirit, even though the wolf seemed so weak it could be killed with a single finger.

"There is something you can do for me, not as compensation, but as a favor I implore of you, descendant of the Frostwolf clan," the white wolf said, looking tiredly at Baroque's surprised expression. "As you can see, I am near death. Before I die, I beg for your assistance, my child."

Baroque felt it absurd that this white wolf referred to him as "child." They were not that familiar, but he chose not to mention it, instead asking cautiously, "What can I do for you? But as you can see, my strength is limited. Even your child could easily kill me. I doubt I can be of much help."

"Do not underestimate yourself, child. Outsiders may not know your strength, but as the King of Hebradon wolves, I sensed it the moment you entered this forest. I know your power... and even I cannot fathom your potential. But I guided you here... you will be able to help. You are hope, my hope, and the hope of the beastmen."

"You guided me here?" Baroque exclaimed in surprise. He had felt something was amiss since entering Trem Forest, as if everything revolved around some unknown force. He had been confused, thinking it was just nerves, but it turned out he had been led here by some force, arriving at this mountain. This white wolf, claiming to be the King of Hebradon wolves, possessed terrifying strength.

"There are things you will learn in time, but for now, it is best you do not know. It would burden you greatly. Just remember, my child and I are the last Hebradon wolves, we are phantasmal beasts." The white wolf licked the silver cub beside it, which let out a contented purr and continued to sleep peacefully.

The white wolf struggled to move, too weak to stand. Baroque noticed several eggs the size of goose eggs in the nest beneath it, dull gray and unremarkable. He felt absurd – this Hebradon wolf was hatching eggs! It was comically absurd.

"Do not be surprised. As phantasmal beasts, we are hatched from eggs. It is not just us Hebradon wolves... all phantasmal beasts are hatched from eggs," the white wolf explained, looking at the three eggs with a pained and sorrowful expression.

"What do you need me to do?" Baroque, as a shaman, had a keen sense for life. He felt no life pulsating from those three eggs... though still alive, they were on the verge of death. This seemed to be the source of the white wolf's pain and sorrow.

"My tribe has long been extinct, leaving me to live alone. The taste of such loneliness is maddening..." the white wolf said.

Baroque nodded involuntarily, understanding the pain. He had barely survived the days after his tribe was destroyed. "Your tribe was destroyed? It's said that phantasmal beasts are unmatched in strength. Who could wield such terrifying power?" he asked.

"As I said, there are things you should not know too soon. You will understand in time. For now, listen to me..." the white wolf said, and Baroque fell silent.

"I am very strong. This is not self-aggrandizement or arrogance, but a fact. Even the calamity that wiped out my tribe could not harm me. But I could not bear the loneliness, so I used half my power to give birth to four eggs. These are my children, the hope for my race's continuation," the white wolf said, looking at the silver cub and the three phantasmal eggs with a pained expression once again.

The white wolf's proud expression exuded a kingly aura that quickly dissipated, making Baroque nearly collapse to the ground, drenched in cold sweat. "I am a male Hebradon wolf, originally incapable of laying eggs. But as the king of the Hebradon wolves, I used half my life force and nearly all my soul power to create these four phantasmal beast eggs. They will hatch and continue my lineage, even if it costs me my life. But I need to constantly infuse them with my life force..."

"Things haven't gone smoothly. My enemies never stopped hunting me. Because I created the four eggs, I lost most of my power and was eventually found by them. For a long time, I lived in hiding, constantly fleeing. My first child was lucky enough to hatch," the white wolf said, looking lovingly at the silver cub and licking its fur again.

"The other three..." The white wolf gazed painfully at the remaining three phantasmal eggs. "They weren't as fortunate. In a recent attempt to evade my enemies, those damned beings doubled their numbers to corner me. They were all Sacred Phantasmal Armor warriors, using crystals from my deceased kin. I couldn't escape immediately, and they were about to kill my only hatched child. I had no choice but to temporarily stop nourishing the other eggs."

Baroque began to understand. The three phantasmal eggs had fallen into a state of near-death because the mother (or rather, father) had suddenly stopped infusing them with life force. These weren't normal eggs and had very stringent requirements for their survival, hence the current state.

"In my last escape, I suffered a fatal injury. I don't have much time left, and my three poor children... won't continue to hatch," the white wolf said, its gaze dimming as its life force rapidly dwindled, which Baroque could clearly feel.

Almost instinctively, Baroque began chanting shamanic spells, invoking the power of totems, pure and full of life, to surround the white wolf and its three eggs. To his delight, it had an effect. The totem power flowed into the white wolf's body and slowly into the eggs as well.

At first, the white wolf showed little excitement, for the totem power was too weak, a force it knew even better than Baroque did. Great beastman shamans in the past had possessed much stronger totem power, which had only managed to slightly repair its injuries without providing significant help.

But then, something changed. The white wolf's dim eyes suddenly shone with silver light, like two bright moons, fixed on Baroque.

Though Baroque's totem power was weak, it contained an incredible force that the white wolf couldn't comprehend. It was like destructive thunder yet brimming with vibrant life. Despite its long life and countless encounters with different powers, this combination of life and destruction was unprecedented. Perhaps... it could indeed save them...

Baroque's face turned pale, blood draining away. The totem power vanished, and he collapsed to the ground. He had overestimated himself, trying to save the Hebradon wolves with his weak totem power. If he had known the true might of the Hebradon wolves, he would not have attempted such a foolish endeavor. It was akin to a tiny lizard trying to give life-saving blood to a mighty dragon, utterly absurd!

The hope in the white wolf's eyes did not fade. It had seen a glimmer of hope for its unborn children to survive. With a look of final resolve, the white wolf stared sternly at Baroque. "Descendant of the Frostwolf clan, can I trust you?"

Before Baroque could respond, the white wolf interrupted, continuing, "Perhaps the beastmen have long forgotten the close bond between the Hebradon wolves and your kind. In ancient times, we fought side by side, living and dying as brothers and comrades. But I don't have time to explain it all to you, Baroque. Take care of my children for me. In the future, you won't regret it, nor will you be disappointed!..."

Baroque tried to speak, confused and with many unanswered questions. But the silver light in the white wolf's eyes enveloped him, and he fell unconscious, knowing nothing more.