Wolf was a big boy. He was three years old. His mother had quietly passed away half a year ago, and while the boy stood there staring at the small mound that served as his mother’s grave, he couldn’t help but think about the past.

Ever since his first birthday, Wolf had noticed that his mother enjoyed sleeping more and more with each passing day. Sometimes she would sleep for a whole day straight. Then for two, then three. Each time the episode happened, it lasted longer and longer, until one day, the woman stopped waking up altogether. A month after Sky fell asleep for the last time, she passed away peacefully.

Even though he was just a toddler, Wolf had noticed that his father had grown even more serious and quiet ever since the two of them were left alone.

As far as Wolf could tell, his father was a solemn man grieving the loss of his wife. This was natural. Wolf also grieved, for not being able to see Mommy.

However, if someone with a bit more life experience saw the way Archibald acted, they would have gotten a different impression than little Wolf. They would have thought that Archibald had buried a lifelong enemy he’d held in very high regard. Then again, for some folks, that could have passed for the textbook definition of a spouse.

Other than his mother’s death, two other noteworthy events occurred in Wolf’s short life. Both of them related to changes in Wolf's Mind Hall, which had already grown to the point of having three columns. The second column had emerged from the mists more than a year before Sky died, when Wolf was barely thirteen months old…

***

Wolf had just finished carving the first column of his Mind Hall. The process had taken a great deal of time, more than half of Wolf’s life. Meaning, the boy needed seven-odd months to complete his first great work.

The endeavor itself might have appeared strange and counterintuitive to an outside observer. But to a newborn who lacked any sort of past experience, it seemed like the proper way of doing things.

First Wolf made the rough column perfectly smooth. Then, once the column was turned into a perfect cylinder, Wolf started making the real engravings, which was the fun part. The boy had no idea why he did things the way he did. The whole action was like picking up crumbled paper someone had discarded and using it for drawing. Logically, the first thing he should do was make the crumpled paper as smooth as possible, and only then draw on it.

Wolf didn’t find it odd that, once the column was smooth, it had grown slightly thicker than it had been before. He didn’t find it odd that the pieces he cut off never landed on the ground. Before the bony splinters could touch the floor, they would turn into wisps of mist and then evaporate into thin air.

After working for so many weeks, Wolf made one final cut, and the last bone shaving fell through the air. Just like its predecessors, the chip became mist before silently disappearing.

Wolf floated down from the top of the column. After taking a couple of steps back, he observed his handiwork with pride.

The column’s original look, that of a majestic, primal braid woven of gods’ bones, had become a complex work of… art. It now depicted a myriad of creatures. They were all climbing and slithering atop each other, stepping on the heads and shoulders of those below while those above used them as steppingstones. Apes, crocodiles, mice, giant insects, ursine monstrosities as well as an untold number of creatures without a name. All of them seemed to be aspiring to reach the heavens above.

Wolf had only ever seen a few of these lifeforms. He’d only ever seen a limited number of different kinds of lifeforms period. He didn’t know that some of those things didn’t exist, while some resembled real creatures that inhabited Masterpiece, even though his carvings looked considerably weirder than their real-life counterparts.

Observing his work, the boy nodded in satisfaction. He felt the pride of a job well done, but a moment later, a bothersome thought popped up.

“What am I supposed to do now?” he wondered.

There really was very little he could do here.

Should he smooth out the bit of floor that had emerged from the fog while he was working on the column? But that would only take a couple of nights at the most... He could carve out the steps? That would kill a month or two? Or should he maybe go for the throne?

This really was a conundrum for Wolf. Unlike normal people, he didn’t dream. Every time he fell asleep, he would find himself in this grand chamber, sitting on the throne. Being here was being more awake and clearheaded than when he was in the physical world.

Unfortunately, the only thing he could do in this place was think, and customize his surroundings. He didn’t really have all that much to think about yet, and with nothing else to do… He wondered if he was supposed to sit around and stare into the fog?

“Maybe I should carve it now?” Wolf’s Mental Aspect thought as he stared at the throne.

For some reason, though, that thought felt wrong. Very wrong. Still, Wolf slowly walked up the stairs. Once he reached the top, the boy glanced at the primal looking seat of power. Even though it seemed like it was made from the same material as the floor and column, Wolf could tell that there was a huge difference between the two.

He couldn’t quite put it in words. The material from which the column had been created made Wolf feel tranquil when he touched it. It brought peace. The throne, on the other hand, had the opposite effect. It made him feel… violent?

Still, there were only so many things he could do here. So, Wolf steeled his resolve and made his move. He struck the tiny chisel against the regal chair.

Other than making a hair-raising scraping noise, nothing happened. The throne wasn’t one bit malleable. It was much tougher than the column, not to mention the soft floor.

After trying a couple of times, Wolf gave up. He had a feeling that the chisel would break long before the throne yielded. Giving up on the throne for now, the boy turned around. At least he could finish the floor.

Wolf’s Mental Aspect froze. The fog-filled room had changed. At some point, a second column had emerged from the mists.

It looked like it had always been there, yet when Wolf had appeared in the Mind Hall earlier that evening, he had clearly seen only a single column.

Wolf’s Mental Aspect stared at the new feature. It looked exactly like the first one did, before Wolf started vandalizing it. The boy barely had the time to react when yet another oddity happened.

The white, intertwined surface of the column rippled like pondwater in the wind.

A large humanoid shadow, as black as the darkest night, squirmed its way out of the column. The eerie specter took in its surroundings for a moment, then shot straight at Wolf. The man-sized apparition flew faster than the wind, and rammed itself into the toddler’s tiny body.

Just like when it left the column, the specter made the surface of Wolf’s body ripple as it dove in.

A strange, icy current invaded Wolf's pristine soul. It was like freezing cold tar had stuck to the very core of his pure being.

***

While this bizarre scene happened in Wolf’s Mind Palace, back in the real world, his body gasped and cried out as he awoke.

“Bwaaaaaa!”

With two conflicting wills inside it, the body disconnected from the mind and acted on instinct. Reflexively the baby started bawling and spasming. Wolf’s body temperature plummeted, until he turned as cold as the netherworld itself.

Sky, who slept next to her child, awoke with a start.

“There, there, little Wolf. It’s not real, it’s just a bad dream,” Sky soothed her baby. Then she touched his cold, clammy skin. The sensation made her shudder. She realized that this was something far more sinister than a bad dream. Her child was dying!

Not knowing what else she could do, the woman screamed, holding her baby close. She tried to warm him up, while fighting the feeling of terror grabbing hold of her.

The eyes of Wolf’s body frantically turned left and right, as the two wills housed inside his Mind Hall fought for supremacy. Wolf was unable to see the face of the woman holding him, only her elegant elongated fingers as she clutched his tiny form from the behind. But he clearly saw Archibald sprinting towards him, jumping over a stool.

The tall man, who was clearly not an elf, was holding a Light-Stone in his hand, with worry clearly written on his broad face as he opened his mouth to say something. The instant Wolf laid his eyes on his father, something inside of him seemed to snap. Unimaginable hatred started boiling deep within him.

***

“Mongrel!?” Wolf’s Mental aspect shouted as Lonely Eagle’s remnant will took control for a moment. Viewing the body’s human father through Wolf’s half-elf eyes was a great insult and humiliation to the man he once was. “This glorious king has a mongrel body! Which slut of my kind dared copulate with a human!? I shall exterminate her clan! First, I must take care of the sire of this inferior body…”

As this furious, cold voice boomed inside Wolf’s Mind Palace, the body outside fainted from shock. However, those words and threats were enough to rouse Wolf’s anger and fighting intent.

“Shut up! That’s Daddy! You can’t say bad things about Mommy and Daddy!” Wolf’s Mental Aspect shouted once more as Wolf once more took control over it. Then the spiritual body started clawing at itself, trying to kill the shade.

The boy’s Mental aspect shredded his own skin, paying no heed to the pain. He tore off chunks of flesh with his tiny hands. But as Wolf kept hurting himself, he injured the black shadow as well. At a great personal cost, the infant’s Mental Aspect dragged the shade out of his body.

“You little son of a bitch! You’ll ruin us both!” the remnant of Lonely Eagle's will let out a disembodied screech as it was thrown out of the tiny spiritual body with extraordinary force. The creature flew through the air of Wolf’s Mind Palace, and slammed back-first into the pillar Wolf had just finished carving.

*Crack!*

The shadow's spine snapped, but a moment later, the damage healed. As long as the shadow remained whole no damage would be permanent.

Furious, the shade jumped back towards Wolf’s Mental Aspect. Or, at least it tried to. The specter felt as if barbed hooks had stabbed into the flesh of its back. It tried to jerk its body away from the column one more time, but something held it firmly in place, tearing at its flesh in fury.

The shadow turned its head and looked behind it. To its horror, the myriad of creatures that had been nothing more than carvings just a moment ago were holding it firmly in place.

But they weren’t simply keeping Lonely Eagle from lashing out at Wolf’s Mental Aspect. The crocodiles and apes and mice were drawing the shade into the column. The creatures tore at the pitch-black body with tooth and claw. Even more terrifying was the fact that once a creature managed to tear off a chunk of meat, it started feasting on it. In a frenzy, they tore the pieces from each other’s mouths, as well as from the shadow.

The shade screamed. It struggled furiously, but the creatures holding it were strong enough to fight for the right to ascend to the heavens, let alone to keep hold of a mere memory of a manling.

The shadow felt fear. True death was at hand. It panicked, finally pleading with the creatures, but its screeching pleas fell on deaf ears. The monstrosities of the column kept frenziedly devouring the intruder. Other than their demonic strength, the creatures seemed to possess one thing in common. They wanted to destroy the shadow at all costs. It had endangered their creator.

The shadow’s rage-filled yells and pleas for mercy turned into shrieks of pain, then devolved into whimpering and wails of desperation. Then there was silence. The shade was gone.

Wolf raptly watched the whole scene. Oddly enough, he didn’t find it scary at all. For the creatures he had made to defend him seemed only natural. What scared him, though, was what happened after Lonely Eagle’s shade was gone.

The boy looked at the crimson-soaked throne and floor under him. He screamed in fright as the blood and gore slowly wriggled back towards him.

He watched with horror as the ruined flesh merged back into his body, knitting his wounds closed. In a few short moments, Wolf's Mental Aspect was fully healed. Even the torn little one-piece had mended itself to match the one his physical body wore.

***

In the world of Wolf’s Mind, the disturbance seemed to last for ages. In the real world, however, not even two seconds went by before Wolf’s seizure stopped.

“Wolf… Baby… Talk to me! What’s wrong?” Sky asked with a shaky voice.

She was beside herself with worry. Wolf’s nose bled. A tear of blood ran down his cheek. And he was as cold as a corpse. Sky feared that a backlash from the way he’d been born had happened, killing the child.

Standing beside the bed, Archibald was muttering and waving his hands. A silvery-purple glow that formed into ancient runes of power appeared in the air above his son’s head. Archibald was in such a state of panic that he failed to notice that the toddler had already regained consciousness.

“It’s all right Daddy. I had a bad dream.” Wolf uttered with some confusion as he watched his father and the lights gathered above his head.

Sky let out a sigh of relief and hugged her baby even tighter, while the motes of light and half-formed runes returned to Archibald’s palm. The boy was getting warmer by the moment. She didn't dare imagine what her son had just gone through. She believed that he’d just fought back against the collapse of his soul.

“Good, good. Don’t scare Mommy like that ever again,” Sky said with tears in her eyes. She felt guilt beyond words for the crippling defect she believed she had bestowed upon her child.

Wolf nodded his head like a good boy and looked at her straight in the eye.

“Can Daddy sleep with us tonight?” The boy asked with a pleading look.

Sky made a disdainful face, but allowed Wolf’s request.

And that was how Wolf experienced his first life and death struggle. He was barely a year old, yet had faced the mortal threat of having a shade of his past life try and snuff out the new person he now was.

***

The second incident was considerably more benign in nature. It happened when Wolf was two and a half years old. His father had finished shoveling soil into the hole he had placed Sky in a while ago, returning her to Earthmother’s embrace.

Archibald was solemn as he slowly explained some things about life to his now motherless child. He tried to speak succinctly, as if his words were the most expensive thing in the world. He explained what death was, trying to sound like a father. Due to his professional deformation, the man utterly failed, and spoke like a professor he’d once been.

The words Wolf heard could be summarized like this: Mommy is gone, Daddy put her in a hole and covered her with dirt. Apparently, keeping dead people around was something only a Necromancer would do, whatever a Necromancer was.

By then, Wolf had become aware of the fact that he too had died at some point. That meant that Mommy was now being born somewhere else, which was great for her. She would have a mommy and daddy of her own, and live a beautiful life, just like him. Maybe he could go and find her one day? How far away could she be, anyway?

Little Wolf used these thoughts to comfort himself. Without the boy even noticing it, the day of his mother’s funeral had passed and night had fallen. Wolf had no idea what had happened, nor how he’d ended up back in their little family cot.

The cot was empty. Wolf was in it, but his mommy used to fill it up, and she was no longer there. The boy kept telling himself that one day he would find Mommy. Then he and Daddy and Mommy would once more live together happily. He was naturally oblivious of all the problems with that line of thinking. Of finding someone in a world filled with manlings, of the memories Sky now lacked, of the fact that the relationship between Archibald and Sky was a revenge pact and not a marriage.

It took a good long while of lying still in the darkness for Wolf to fall asleep. When he finally managed, he saw that his Mind Hall had changed. A third column had popped out of nowhere.

There was no feeling of a threat. No violent ghosts came to assault him. Wolf dazedly stared at the column, his eyes losing focus. He could see a young elf standing before him. The elf was practicing sword techniques in a white, empty world.

The child grew into a youth. The youth grew into a man. The older the elf grew, the more elaborate his crude, simple slashes and stabs became. Then, one day the beautiful, elaborate sword dance started becoming simpler.

Slowly, the myriad of techniques became basic slashes, stabs and parries once more as they returned to their origins. But there was nothing base about them now. An elegant simplicity replaced the initial crudeness, and the newfound minimalism contained fluidity that bordered on true art.

Wolf didn’t know how long he watched those moves in the blank white space. At some point, the scene started playing over from the start. This time, Wolf noticed that once the swordsman grew up, his blade would be stained red or green from time to time.

He lost track of the number of times he saw this evolution of swordsmanship. Finally, Wolf woke up. The tragedy he had experienced the day before now seemed like it was centuries removed from him. It was as if his mother had died more than a thousand years ago.

Other than washing over the pain of loss with the sheer force of time, the vision caused another change. From that day on, Wolf started swooshing a stick in his hand, attacking bushes and trees. He trained in the stances he had seen in his trance, putting what he had witnessed to practice.

Archibald soon noticed that his son had started playing alone in the forest. He was glad that Wolf was taking Sky’s death as well as he was. Maybe even too well.

Could it be that he knew what she thought of him, and how disgusted she felt deep down inside? Archibald wondered.

He thought about telling Wolf why his mother had died, but decided against it. From time to time, he also considered burning the damn letter Sky had left behind, but couldn’t bring himself to do it.

His fear of the vow’s backlash wasn’t the only reason. Regardless of what he personally thought of the woman, she had the right to leave a will and legacy for her child. He only hoped that this legacy of hers wouldn’t destroy his son.

Months passed. Wolf was a big boy now. He was three years old. He spent his days swishing a stick in the forest, sometimes following his father when the big man went hunting. He spent his nights vandalizing his Mind Hall and carving the giant white pillars for hours on end.

The first one depicted a myriad of creatures scrambling for a way to ascend to the heavens, the second one depicted various grasses, flowers and trees stretching their leaves and branches towards the sky, competing for the precious rays of sunlight. The third pillar, however, looked much more mundane. It was still a work in progress, covered in images of a faceless man performing sword katas. An endless number of moves were depicted on the smooth surface. If one observed them in the correct order, they could see that the carvings actually depicted smooth transitions from one sword stance to another.

Wolf was a big boy now. He was three years old. Despite trying to keep himself busy, despite feeling like centuries had already passed, despite trying not to show it to his father, deep down, Wolf was just a miserable little boy whose mommy had died half a year ago.

Archibald's lessons:

We manlings have considerably weaker bodies than Monster Beasts and an average person is almost certain to die even to the weakest of monsters. To become stronger and just to survive in this world we’ve found ways to improve ourselves.

The methods we most commonly use are refining of the body, soul and Internal Energy. Internal Energy Refiners are commonly known as Sword-Sages. Soul Refiners are referred to as Mages. As for Body Refiners, they are called barbarians, berserkers, brutes, knights and many more depending on the region they come from and their life’s choices.