Chirin Region, a vast expanse near the southernmost borders of the Lafina continent, lay under the dominion of the Kingdom of Vinzl. Though far from the heart of the kingdom, this land remained an integral part of Vinzl’s territory, housing hundreds of towns and thousands of villages that dutifully paid their annual tributes.

  One such village rested on the border of the Chirin Region, a small settlement tucked between dense forests and winding rivers. Here, a middle-aged hunter named Ajal carefully stalked his prey—a lone deer grazing in a clearing. Ajal, a father of two, depended on the hunt to feed his family. He knew that a successful hunt meant nourishment for his children, and with each passing season, it had become more difficult to find game.

  With practiced precision, he nocked an arrow onto his bowstring, took a deep breath, and loosed it. The arrow whistled through the air, striking the deer cleanly. The animal staggered before collapsing, and Ajal approached swiftly, ensuring its life had ended before hoisting it onto his shoulders. As he made his way back, he noticed an old man trudging down the path ahead, leading a weary horse pulling a cart filled with goods.

  “Old man Din!” Ajal called out, adjusting the weight of the deer. “Why the long face?”

  Old Man Din, a well-known merchant who often traveled between villages, sighed heavily, his expression weary. “Ajal… It’s been a strange day. I encountered a procession of nobles heading toward the Magical Academy.”

  Ajal frowned. “Nobles? In these parts? That’s rare.” He hesitated before realization struck him. “Could it be related to the rumors?”

  The older man sighed again. “I wouldn’t be surprised. They were well-armed and had mages among them. Whatever is happening near the academy… it’s attracting attention.”

  Ajal nodded grimly. The rumors had been spreading like wildfire—whispers of unnatural occurrences, strange phenomena, and beasts acting erratically. Even experienced hunters like Ajal had noticed a stark change in the forest. Game had become scarce, as if fleeing from an unseen predator.

  “It’s unsettling,” Ajal muttered. “The animals—they’re vanishing. Boars, deer, even the rabbits. It’s like they know something we don’t.”

  The two men continued down the path, their conversation shifting between noble affairs and the oddities plaguing the region. The deeper they delved into speculation, the more ominous the air around them seemed to grow.

  Within the depths of the Abyssal Fortress, Eo sat upon his throne, lost in contemplation. His creation had grown—strong enough to be considered a true stronghold, yet still incomplete in his eyes.

  The throne he rested upon was not an ordinary seat of power. Forged from an amalgamation of rare materials, its structure pulsed faintly with energy. Darkened obsidian veins coursed through the metallic frame, engraved with intricate runes that absorbed surrounding mana. The seat itself was cushioned by a material that shifted in texture, adjusting to Eo’s form like a living entity.

  Yet, despite the grandeur of his throne and fortress, one crucial element remained lacking—manpower.

  Power was not an issue for Eo. He had more than enough. However, raw power alone could not build an empire. He had managed to modify several humans, enhancing them far beyond their natural limits, but unlike him, humans were shackled by their inherent biological constraints. No matter how much he refined them, they would always reach a threshold, a limit he could not yet break.

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  Thus, he turned his attention elsewhere.

  A book lay in his hands, its worn cover suggesting it had passed through many before him. It was a simple folktale book, one that could be bought from any town or village. Its contents detailed Tangea’s mythical beasts and monsters—creatures that once roamed freely but had either gone extinct or faded into legend.

  One name caught his eye.

  “Fenrir.”

  As if summoned by the mere utterance of its name, a shadow rippled on the ground before him. From the abyssal depths, a massive black wolf emerged, its molten gold eyes gleaming with unwavering loyalty. As the creature fully materialized, it bent its forelegs, lowering itself into a kneeling position before its master.

  “You called, Master.”

  Eo observed the beast, his gaze analytical. To the humans, Fenrir was the very definition of a mythical beast—a creature of legend. But Eo knew the truth. Fenrir was not a product of legend but of meticulous modification and experimentation.

  Fenrir had been his first successful subject. Unlike the humans, where limitations hindered progress, Fenrir had accepted the modifications seamlessly. The wolf’s body was a perfect fusion of organic and magical constructs, reinforced on an atomic level. Eo had infused it with an immense amount of magic, altering its very existence. At first, he had expected failure. Instead, he had created something extraordinary.

  For Fenrir, strength was a certainty. Even among powerful humans—mages, knights, and archmages—his mere presence inspired unease. Yet, in the presence of Eo, the beast felt insignificant. Lowering its head further, Fenrir pressed itself against the cold floor, a gesture of submission born not out of fear, but reverence.

  ‘Master is Master,’ Fenrir thought, reaffirming its unwavering devotion.

  Eo’s eyes glowed, shifting in color as he activated his analytical vision. The world around him blurred, breaking down into intricate layers of energy and structure.

  Eo began his deep scan, delving into the microscopic details of Fenrir’s composition. His analysis combined the principles of both magic and science, allowing him to perceive layers of existence beyond ordinary comprehension.

  At a cellular level, Fenrir’s body was a complex weave of biological and magical constructs. His muscles, unlike those of normal beasts, were reinforced with mana-conductive fibers, allowing for enhanced strength and regeneration.

  His bones were no longer mere calcium structures but had transformed into a resilient, semi-magical alloy that could withstand immense force. The marrow within constantly generated mana, acting as a secondary core that fed into his bloodstream.

  Eo focused on the bloodstream next. Unlike humans, where blood served as a carrier of oxygen and nutrients, Fenrir’s blood was a conduit for pure magical energy. It pulsed with a dark, luminous essence, reinforcing every fiber of his being.

  Then, the most intriguing discovery—the Nerve Nexus System.

  Fenrir’s nerves were laced with elemental pathways, allowing instantaneous transmission of signals. Unlike humans, whose reaction speeds were limited by biological impulses, Fenrir’s body communicated through direct mana impulses, making him faster than any living creature Eo had encountered.

  “Interesting,” Eo murmured, fascinated by the depth of his creation.

  Fenrir remained still, his muscles tense under the intense scrutiny. To be examined by Eo was both an honor and an ordeal. His very being was being unraveled and understood in a way no other entity ever could.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Eo leaned back, breaking his focus. The glow in his eyes faded, returning to their usual hue.

  “You are stable,” he remarked. “More so than I initially thought.”

  Fenrir exhaled softly, relief washing over him.

  For now, Eo had no immediate changes to make. But his mind whirled with possibilities. There was always room for improvement—always another layer to uncover.

  And if he could perfect Fenrir… then what else could he achieve?

  The Abyssal Fortress was only the beginning.