AN: The story will be a bit slow at first, and not much dialogue, but I hope you will continue reading :). Will also attempt to release at least one chapter a day.

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Chapter 1: First Blood Baptism

Names are an intriguing concept. It can shape us, or we can shape it. It can hold power over us, or we can hold power over it. Knowing in itself is a powerful thing.

And I have been called many names.

The Dark Prince, the Blood Father, One of Conviction, the Feared One, the Reviled One, the Accuser, the Enemy, the Sin-Bearer, the Betrayer, the Ruler and the Seducer.

Some of the more poor names I have been called were the Impaler of Innocents, the Dark Bastard, and the Devourer.

-The Devil that None Knows

His index finger curled outward ever so slowly until it was made into a sharp point. Hunter pointed toward the dark-furred critter, his eyes glinting with a poorly hidden amusement.

“Kill it.”

I stood behind Hunter with a small spear in my hands. And although I call the spear small, it was slightly taller than me. But compared to the spears which the true Hunters of my tribe wielded, there could really be no comparison. The spear was of poor quality. Not so sharp as to be able to hurt oneself with it. But sharp enough to kill. It would be deadly in the hands of an expert.

Not so deadly in my hands…

I looked at the dark-furred critter, a Bigger Ronat, with grim determination, then looked back toward the half-naked form of Hunter.

As his name suggested, he was the Hunter of our tribe. His original name had not been Hunter to begin with. Hunter only had been given his name due to having taken over the position of the former Hunter. His status in the tribe was important. He was the lead Hunter and the trainer for the newer generations of Hunters in the tribe.

Looking at his naked back and the imposing manner in which he stood, I knew that Hunter was truly formidable. On his back, along his spine, there were small black ridges growing that led from his waist to just short of his neck. These black ridges were also found on his forearm. His hair was of a midnight color, its length reaching below his broad shoulders. Finally, there were the swirling black runes marked onto his back, extending outward from the middle of his back all the way to embracing his forearms and then coming back toward to his chest.

And although his manner was imposing, Hunter waited patiently for me to start. The patience, no doubt, stemmed from years of patiently awaiting his prey, lurking in the hidden shadows.

I looked toward the Bigger Ronat. Some small doubts swirled in my mind. The critter was almost as big as me, who had already passed basic Hunter training and was finally three and a half years old.

Hunter and I were both in the Ronat dens. Our tribe bred these critters for their fur, blood, and meat. The Bigger Ronats, the ones that were rarely born, were used as training and to see if one could really become a basic Hunter. It was the test of first blood.

The Bigger Ronat, if I had to describe it using familiar terms, was a cross between a rabbit and a sheep. It had the body of a rabbit and the slightly elongated face of a sheep. The sounds the Ronats made were also similar to that of a sheep, though their voices were deeper. Its body height, on its four limbs, came close to three feet.

Grasping the hard wooden spear in my right hand firmly, I proceeded toward the Bigger Ronat. My eyes met its pair of golden eyes rimmed with a slightly black hue. The Bigger Ronat only awaited for me, its eyes as if daring me to come attack him.

I took a step forward and still the Ronat did not move even an inch, let alone a foot. I pressed on and there was left only a gap of six feet between the two of us. Then I charged at it, using the momentum to proceed into a lunge, with my right foot stepping forward.

My spear went straight for its head. It was a sudden strike called the Snake Flight. Hunter had warned me of its disadvantages and advantages. The advantages laid in the suddenness and the deadliness of the move. If the lunge missed, however, it would leave an easy opening that anyone or in this case, any beasts, could take advantage of.

The Ronat easily dodged my spear. It diagonally jumped leftward, almost like a spear traveling outward. Startled by how fast the Ronat was, my eyes could barely catch its movement. It was my first time fighting a Bigger Ronat and I had underestimated the creature right from the start.

Then all I could see was a dark-furred blur before I lost all balance. A stinging pain exploded outward from my face, and a loud smack resounded in the Ronat den I was in. When I regained my bearings, I could see that I had fallen onto the sparsely grassed, earthen floor of the den.

I looked at the Bigger Ronat, who merely glanced at me from a distance as if I was a small pebble on the ground. I knew that the only reason I had been saved from further onslaught of attacks was due to Hunter releasing an Intention that was full of bloodlust.

Even though the bloodlust Intention was not directed toward me, I could feel it as if it were a cold chill in my spine. I almost wondered at how the Bigger Ronat was feeling, who was bearing the full brunt of the bloodlust Intention.

Then embarrassment hit me.

I realized that I had just been slapped in the face by the Bigger Ronat. Furthermore, to pour more kindling into the blazing fire that was my embarrassment, I saw that in my fall, I had released my grip on the wooden spear. It was a fact that was not lost upon me. Neither was it lost on Hunter, who I sneaked a glance from the corner of my eyes.

Never lose your weapon. It is your heart. Your hands and feet. You wield in your weapon your own life and the lives of others.

I could almost hear the words Hunter had repeated over and over during training in my mind. Each word was like a resounding strike of thunder and shame.

Hunter glanced at me, and in his dark, red eyes there was that dull glow of amusement. It felt as if he was looking down on me, but I knew that was not the case. Hunter treated everything with this sort of dull amusement. He was like the wind, embracing life with a carefree attitude.

Hunter looked toward the spear. It was a silent communication with his eyes, but I knew that he wanted me to pick it up and try again.

My hand gripping on a tuff of grass, I stood up with just the slightest difficulty, mostly due to my embarrassment. Like other children of my tribe, I had a sturdy body so a kick or three was nothing.

Even as I picked up my spear, I watched the Ronat, who had now transformed into an ugly monster. Of course, that reality was only in my mind, for the Ronat, at this moment, was what stood before my goal of truly becoming a basic Hunter trainee.

Once I took a proper stance, I no longer felt the bloodlust Intention surrounding me. The Ronat was also no longer frozen in place from the overwhelming bloodlust.

The Ronat, perhaps still feeling threatened, did not move upon seeing me pick up the spear. The creature, instead, ignored me and warily glanced at Hunter who was moving away to allow me space. I felt anger and shame. Most of it shame.

I swiped at the Ronat, the edge of my spear making a horizontal cut. The Ronat dodged it easily. I pressed forward, not giving it time. I entered into Small Whirlwind, my hands holding the shaft of the spear closer. The spear blade, though of poor quality, was still sharp enough to tear into the fur and flesh of the Ronat.

The feeling of resistance as the spear made a small cut on its body was an indescribable feeling. The scent of blood entered my nose. Sweet, almost nauseating. The blood of a Bigger Ronat was of superior quality compared to the normal Ronats.

The creature made a roaring “bah” sound. Its pair of eyes glittered with golden rage, and the surrounding black hues of its eyes almost seemed as if it became a writhing darkness, alive and growing.

The Ronat did not have a monstrous or horrific appearance.

Nonetheless, its eyes…

They startled me. I was anxious. Never had I received a look of such hatred and anger before. True, I have had some slight brawls with other children my age. But none of these brawls had ever escalated into such enmity.

That slight second of hesitation was costly. I felt a smack resound against my chest, the force of it making me take two steps backward. This time, however, I still held onto my spear. That at least was something of a condolence. Then I regained myself quickly just in time to see a jumping head-butt from the Ronat.

Right then, I knew that it was an opportunity. My two hands moved quickly. I relied on my natural reflexes which had been further honed by two years of basic spear training. With a two handed grip on the shaft of the spear, I moved it slightly upward diagonally.

The Ronat did the rest of the work.

In midair, unable to dodge, the creature met the point of my spear. I felt a much harder resistance this time, and a spray of blood dyed the fur cloth I was wearing into a deeply scarlet hue. I felt a wetness on my neck.

The creature let out a weak moan and the glow of hatred in its eyes were fading ever so slowly, as if the previous enmity had been all but an ephemeral reality. Still, the Ronat struggled violently, its limbs thrashing here and there, one of them even almost reaching me.

It was a struggle to the death and I recognized its instincts screaming out.

Survive! Survive! ESCAPE! LIVE!

The struggle of the creature that was by now more than halfway pierced through the shaft of my spear lasted only a few seconds. But to me, it became an unceasing nightmare that almost seemed like minutes.

Even if it was on its death throes. Even if it was losing blood and already more than halfway into the embrace of the death, my spear somehow felt heavier. It was an impossibility which I wondered in my amazement. My horror stricken amazement.

Should it not be losing weight as its lifeblood drip down onto the bottom end of my spear, slowly cocooning my hands into that of a scarlet mess, then further soaking the ground red?

And though I, along with others my age, wielded strength that could carry the Bigger Ronats which weighed more than us…at this moment, I could barely carry it. Finally, I could no longer seem to be able to hold my spear in the position in which I had killed the Ronat.

I let my spear fall, the point of the spear soon touching the red, earthen ground. The shaft of my weapon, slick with blood, easily allowed the body—no, corpse—of the Ronat to touch the floor. It, however, remained fixated upon the end point of the spear. It was if the creature was still clinging onto life, though I knew it was already dead.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Remember this, Wolf Under Stars. This is the weight of death. The heaviness of life,” Hunter said from beside me. I had not even noticed him come closer toward me.

His words freed me from my fixation on the corpse of the Ronat.

“Does it ever get easier?” I asked.

Only silence greeted my question.

After Hunter skinned the Bigger Ronat, and packed its meat, fur, and blood, we left the Ronat dens.

Then the silence was broken by Hunter’s sudden voice. And in his eyes, there was still that ever dull amusement.

“That…you can only find out yourself.”