"A journey is not merely the movement of the body. It is a path inward, where every trail reveals new horizons of understanding."

  — Hayasaka Sadao (早坂貞男), Japanese philosopher and Zen master, renowned for his teachings on the inner path and harmony with nature.

  The mountain ranges of Evetaki slumbered in mist. The forest held its breath, as if listening to discover who dared step onto its paths. Silence wasn’t just the absence of sound — it pressed down like a foreboding. Only the crackle of frozen grass under paw betrayed movement.

  The air was crisp and cool, and the silver frost glistening on the leaves contrasted with the cold shadows.

  At the peaks, the forest seemed to dissolve into green silence. The crows circling above could see nothing but an endless ocean of foliage, blending into the sky.

  The world was waking. Sunbeams pierced the thick canopy, drawing patterns of light on the damp earth. The mist slowly melted, yielding to the scent of pine and moist soil.

  The Hirobeast paused, inhaling deeply. His heart quickened.

  His face drew attention — sharp, fox-like features, as if cunning itself had taken form in his gaze. His white-golden fur shimmered in the sunlight, flickering across his cheeks and neck. Black ears tipped with fine tufts twitched, catching the slightest rustle — like antennas of the living world. He moved lightly, as if the wind pushed his steps and the sky watched over him with a blessing.

  At his waist — pouches of dried herbs, among them St. John's wort, pungent and warm in scent. A reed, modest in appearance, stuck out from the strap — deceptive in its simplicity. In his paws — a manuscript, stained by time, its edges as if singed by spells. From it emanated the scent of ancient woods, moss, and rain.

  His breathing was steady, deep — the inner calm of a hunter. His skin faintly glowed — magic seeping from him like heat from coal. A cowboy hat bobbed atop his head in rhythm with his steps, completing the image of a traveler you couldn't fool — and wouldn’t forget.

  He stared into the grove, as if expecting the trees to speak. And they did — in the creaking of branches, the sigh of leaves, the shifting scent of the air. Everything here felt familiar, yet strangely foreign.

  He hadn’t come for glory.

  His goal — Isufilka. The one chance to save his mother.

  And to prove he belonged to the forest — not just as its reflection, but as part of it.

  – New Quest: Interaction with Nature. Progress: 1 out of 10.

  A cold voice sliced through the silence like a blade on ice. Not a vision — a system. Not magic — structure.

  It gave him power but bound him in chains — unseen, yet felt in every step, glance, and choice.

  He’d grown used to its presence. Even while simply moving — the system counted.

  Points trickled like rain, and every moment carried weight.

  The Hirobeast stepped forward.

  Tree roots responded, as if sensing him.

  The air trembled.

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  The grass bowed.

  Nature knew — he was here.

  He ran a paw over the trunk of a young spruce.

  The tree responded with a subtle shiver.

  – +2 points.

  Hint flashed: “Touch of Growth. Acceptance.”

  He hadn’t expected a reward — but the system felt it.

  He tossed a nut to a squirrel.

  It darted, grabbed it, vanished into the branches.

  – +3 points.

  Hint: “Awareness. Understanding of Needs.”

  He nodded — here, intention mattered more than action.

  He picked up smooth pebbles from the ground and skipped them into the river.

  They bounced, chiming like little bells.

  – +4 points.

  The ripples reflected the sky.

  He paused to touch a patch of moss, soft and cool beneath his paw. A beetle crawled over his claw. He didn’t brush it away.

  He simply observed.

  – +5 points.

  Hint: “Stillness. Non-interference. Listening.”

  He ran his paw along the bark of an old willow.

  The touch — barely there. Yet the tree responded, as if memory stirred in its roots.

  – +6 points.

  He breathed in deeply, held it, and simply listened: birds, wind, rustling grass.

  A moment of complete stillness — no thoughts. Just him and the forest.

  – +7 points.

  Nature answered: “Fusion. Acceptance of Silence.”

  He ran along the riverbank.

  His body aligned with the flow, his breath matched the river’s rhythm.

  – +8 points.

  It welcomed him. But tested him too.

  The voice returned — cold as morning frost:

  “Every action has weight. Points are not rewards — they reflect depth.”

  The Hirobeast stopped, attuning to the forest's silence.

  His nose twitched at the scent of a damp cave — the same one where he’d once played with wolf cubs.

  A memory flared, wrapping him like dense mist, obscuring reality.

  Flash.

  “Papa! Papa, look! I found the berries myself!”

  A little wolf pup stood at the cave entrance, eyes shining with pride. Behind him, a sister — quiet, gentle, her fur moss-scented.

  He smiled — but the memory, like fire in the dark, blinked out.

  Reality returned. Space regained its shape.

  – Caution. Danger is near.

  Movement in the thicket. A shadow.

  Three wolves.

  Through the canyon mist, a shadow slipped — a silver she-wolf — Mayu.

  Her fur shimmered like it was dusted with frost. She moved lightly, almost silently, like part of the mist itself. Ears alert. Gaze cold.

  Power in her paws. Grace in her stride. Her tail swept away the haze.

  From the gloom emerged Velarosa — the violet alpha.

  His silhouette rose like the spirit of the cliffs.

  Massive, scarred, cloaked in violet shadow.

  Muscles rippled with every step.

  Eyes like smoldering coals.

  He moved slowly, confidently.

  Stood — like a mountain.

  Silent — like a verdict.

  One stepped forward — Mayu.

  In her paw — an icy spear, forged from the forest’s breath.

  She hurled it. The air tore.

  He dodged sideways. Just in time. Almost.

  The tip sliced his shoulder.

  Blood on the snow. Alive.

  “I won’t stop. Even if I burn.”

  He drew two sickles — bark and metal, woven into arcs.

  The first strike — a branch flew.

  The second — magic resonated. Air ripped, leaves swirled.

  Mayu recoiled. But not from the second strike.

  – Spell of Fracture.

  The ice beneath her cracked — inner ice, not real.

  – +9 points. A blow to the mind.

  “You’ve learned to use the system… but not to hear the forest,” she whispered, faltering.

  He remained silent.

  Words — a waste of time.

  Precision — everything.

  He gathered strength.

  – Gravitational Surge Spell.

  A leap. His body grew heavier. He dropped.

  The ground trembled.

  The world shook.

  Hands shook, muscles tensed, every sense screamed — run.

  But deep within his mind, from a hidden corner, a voice whispered — warm as breath on fur,

  the same one that always called not to fear, but to come home:

  “Ni-san!”

  Flash.

  In that moment, his consciousness sank into a misty haze. A whirlwind of memories enveloped him like a frozen veil, obscuring all around.

  His inner world spun — and he found himself again where it all began.

  Snow blanketed the ground. Mountains loomed in the distance. Frost cloaked the pines like a gentle shroud.

  The cave — the very cave where he had once found not just strength, but his bond with the forest.

  Its walls bore the drawings of ōkami, the ancient guardians — their eyes gazed into the future, their silhouettes seemed still alive in those cold stones.

  His sister stood beside him, pointing to the symbols. Her eyes gleamed with light, full of power and harmony.

  She was more than kin — she was a guide, leading him along a path that had once seemed so clear.

  Now, her image had become a fading ghost — distant and elusive.

  The whirl of memories shifted sharply, and once more Mayu stood before the cave.

  Her figure — a living memory, a shadow carrying the last glimmer of lost harmony.

  She was part of that world, part of him, and her presence lingered here, in this place, even after all these years.

  Taking a deep breath, he felt the magic of the forest fill his body.

  It wasn’t just nature’s breath — it was the breath of ancient spirits, pulsing in his blood.

  He climbed an old oak branch, and his gaze drifted across the mist — as if searching for what he had lost.

  In his memory, faces returned.

  Inside the cave, among the pups, were Yuki-Oka — white as winter itself, and Fubuki, whose eyes were as cold as ice.

  Their lives depended on Isufilka, the legendary flower blooming at the Hirobeast’s feet.

  A flower that could heal any wound — but only in the hands of one worthy of its power.

  He was ready to walk the path again.

  The memories would never leave him — they would stay until this long, painful road to restored harmony was complete.

  Fear and sacrifice were constant companions, but he knew: without them, there could be no strength — and no peace.

  His gaze returned to reality...