Long before the Kingdom of Nyxor rose to glory, before its black towers pierced the clouds and its royal banners spread across the northern valleys, the island was nothing more than a land of blood, fire, and endless war.

No king ruled the entire island.

No law could bind its people.

The land belonged to whoever was strong enough to take it.

Deep within the western forests lived the Fox Clans. They were swift, cunning, and masters of deception. Their villages were hidden beneath ancient trees, protected by traps and narrow paths known only to their own kind.

To the east, the Tiger Tribes ruled the mountains.

They were fierce warriors who believed that strength was the only true measure of a leader. Their warriors painted their faces before battle and carried enormous blades forged from black iron.

Beyond the mountains stretched the golden plains of the Lion Tribes.

The lions considered themselves the rightful rulers of the island. Their armies were disciplined, their fortresses enormous, and their pride even greater than their walls.

Farther south lived the Black Panther Clans.

They rarely fought in open fields.

They preferred the darkness.

A village could fall in a single night without a single warning.

And in the northern wilderness...

The wolves watched them all.

Unlike the other races, the wolves did not seek to control every corner of the island.

They simply defended their territory.

But that changed when the wars grew closer to their lands.

For centuries, blood had been spilled over rivers, forests, mountains, and hunting grounds.

The Foxes fought the Panthers.

The Panthers attacked the Lions.

The Lions marched against the Tigers.

The Tigers invaded the northern forests.

And whenever another army crossed into wolf territory, the wolves answered with their fangs.

The island became a battlefield.

Smoke covered the sky.

Villages burned beneath the moon.

Children learned the sound of war before they learned the meaning of peace.

Generations were born knowing only hatred.

Every race had its own story.

Every race believed itself the victim.

And every race believed the others were monsters.

Yet among the oldest wolves, there was a legend.

A legend so ancient that even the oldest elders could barely remember when it had first been spoken.

It told of a creature known as the Great Black Wolf.

According to the legend, long before the clans existed, a gigantic black wolf had appeared upon the highest mountain on the island.

Its fur was darker than the night.

Its eyes glowed like frozen stars.

And its howl was said to shake the earth itself.

The first time it howled, the forests became silent.

The second time, the rivers stopped flowing.

And when it howled for the third time, every creature on the island heard the same voice inside its heart.

One day, its blood would return.

A descendant would be born.

Not an ordinary wolf.

Not an ordinary man.

But the final heir of the Great Black Wolf.

The legend claimed that this descendant would bring an end to the wars.

The races would finally stop killing one another.

The island would finally know peace.

But there was another part of the prophecy.

A part that the elders rarely dared to speak aloud.

The descendant would not bring peace through kindness.

He would bring peace through fear.

He would not ask the races to surrender.

He would force them to kneel.

He would not unite the island by earning the loyalty of its kings.

He would destroy their crowns.

Fox.

Tiger.

Lion.

Panther.

Wolf.

All would eventually stand beneath one banner.

One ruler.

One throne.

One bloodline.

And the prophecy ended with a warning.

The descendant of the Great Black Wolf would be the most ruthless creature ever born upon the island.

He would possess the heart of a prince...

and the soul of a beast.

For hundreds of years, the wolves waited.

Nothing happened.

The wars continued.

The legend slowly became nothing more than an old story told beside dying fires.

Until one night.

On the highest mountain in the northern wilderness, something happened that had not happened for generations.

The moon turned red.

The wind suddenly disappeared.

Even the birds fell silent.

An ancient wolf stood alone at the edge of the mountain.

His fur was black as midnight.

His body was enormous, larger than any wolf the island had ever seen.

He lifted his head toward the red moon.

Then he howled.

A deep, terrifying sound rolled across the mountains.

It passed through the forests.

Across the plains.

Over the tiger territories.

Through the hidden villages of the foxes.

Into the dark lands of the panthers.

And finally toward the great lion fortress.

Every warrior stopped.

Every horse became restless.

Every child woke from sleep.

The howl continued until the entire island seemed to tremble beneath it.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, everything became silent.

The ancient wolf lowered his head.

His glowing eyes stared toward the distant horizon.

Something was coming.

Something that had been waiting for centuries.

Far away, beyond the mountains, beneath a sky filled with black clouds, a woman screamed inside a small stone house.

An old midwife froze.

She looked toward the newborn child in her arms.

The baby was unusually quiet.

His eyes were closed.

His tiny hands were clenched tightly.

Then the child opened his eyes.

One eye was deep blue.

The other was golden.

The midwife's face turned pale.

She slowly stepped backward.

"No..."

Outside the house, the wolves began to howl.

One after another.

Then dozens.

Then hundreds.

The entire northern forest erupted with the sound.

The woman who had just given birth stared at her child in fear.

"What are you?"

The baby looked toward the window.

For a brief moment, the moonlight touched his face.

And beneath his skin, something moved.

Something ancient.

Something hungry.

Something that had been sleeping inside his blood for generations.

Far above the mountains, the Great Black Wolf raised its head one final time.

Its eyes burned beneath the red moon.

The legend had begun again.

And this time...

the island would not survive unchanged.

Because the child destined to end the wars had been born.

But nobody yet knew the truth.

The one who would bring peace would first have to become the greatest monster the island had ever known.

Years passed after the birth of the mysterious child.

The island continued to bleed.

The wars between the races grew worse with every passing year. The Fox Clans fought over the western forests. The Tigers pushed deeper into the mountains. The Lions expanded their territory across the golden plains, while the Black Panthers controlled the southern shadows.

The wolves remained in the north.

But somewhere between those endless wars, a young man began to rise.

Nobody knew exactly where he had come from.

Some claimed he was the son of a forgotten noble family.

Others believed he was nothing more than a wandering warrior who had appeared from the northern wilderness.

There were even rumors that he had no family at all.

His name was rarely spoken in public.

Those who knew him simply called him the Wolf Prince.

He was still young when he first entered the battlefield.

He had no crown.

No throne.

No royal army.

Only a dark cloak, a sword, and a handful of warriors who believed in him.

At first, the older commanders laughed when they saw him.

They thought he was too young.

Too inexperienced.

Too arrogant.

But that laughter disappeared after his first battle.

The young warrior stood at the front of his army while thousands of enemy soldiers waited across the valley.

The enemy commander was a Tiger.

A massive warrior covered in scars.

He had fought more than fifty battles and had never surrendered.

He looked at the young man standing on the opposite side.

"You are the one they call their leader?"

The young man did not answer.

The Tiger laughed.

"You are barely old enough to carry that sword."

The young man slowly drew his blade.

"I don't need to be old."

His blue eyes became cold.

"I only need to win."

The battle began.

The Tigers charged first.

The ground shook beneath their feet.

The young man's soldiers nearly broke under the pressure.

But instead of retreating, their commander stepped forward.

He moved faster than anyone expected.

One enemy fell.

Then another.

Then another.

His sword moved like lightning.

He fought through the center of the enemy formation and reached the Tiger commander before the army could react.

Their blades collided.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

The Tiger was stronger.

But the young man was faster.

After several minutes, the Tiger dropped his weapon.

The entire battlefield became silent.

The young man placed his sword against the warrior's throat.

"Tell your people to stop."

The Tiger stared at him.

"You defeated me..."

The young man lowered his sword.

"Then there is no reason for more blood."

The Tiger slowly bowed his head.

That was the first victory.

Then came another.

And another.

And another.

The young man's reputation spread throughout the island.

The Foxes began whispering about him.

The Panthers began watching him from the shadows.

The Tigers began respecting him.

Even the Lions began to fear him.

He became a commander.

Then a war leader.

Then the leader of an army that belonged to no single race.

His soldiers came from different tribes.

Fox warriors marched beside wolves.

Tigers fought beside humans.

Panthers guarded the rear.

Even some Lions eventually joined his ranks.

It was something the island had never seen before.

A mixed army.

One command.

One banner.

One leader.

And that leader had never lost.

Not once.

Years later, the young warrior had become a man.

His face had hardened.

His body carried scars from countless battles.

His eyes no longer carried the innocence of youth.

He had seen villages burn.

He had watched friends die.

He had witnessed kings sacrifice thousands of soldiers simply to protect their pride.

And he had begun to understand something.

Peace could not be created by asking everyone to stop fighting.

Someone had to become strong enough to stop them.

But before he could become king, he faced the greatest battle of his life.

It happened deep within the northern mountains.

His army had been traveling through an ancient forest when the wolves suddenly began behaving strangely.

They refused to move forward.

Some of the horses panicked.

Even the most experienced warriors became uneasy.

Then they heard it.

A howl.

Low.

Deep.

Ancient.

The sound rolled between the mountains.

The young commander stopped his horse.

His soldiers looked at him.

"What was that?"

Nobody answered.

Then the trees began to shake.

Something enormous moved in the darkness.

A shadow emerged between the trees.

At first, they thought it was a bear.

Then it stood upright.

The soldiers froze.

It was a wolf.

But not an ordinary wolf.

The creature was enormous.

Its body was several times larger than a normal wolf.

Its black fur absorbed the moonlight.

Its shoulders rose higher than a man's head.

Its claws dug into the earth.

Its eyes glowed like two burning stars.

The young warrior slowly stepped down from his horse.

"Everyone stay back."

His soldiers protested.

"My lord!"

"Stay back."

The creature growled.

The sound alone made several warriors fall to their knees.

The young man drew his sword.

The enormous wolf charged.

The impact threw him several meters through the air.

He crashed against a tree.

Pain spread across his chest.

He barely had time to breathe before the beast attacked again.

Its claws tore through his cloak.

The young warrior rolled away.

The ground exploded where the creature struck.

He stood.

Blood ran from his forehead.

The beast stared at him.

For the first time in years, the young warrior felt something he had almost forgotten.

Fear.

Not fear of death.

Fear of losing.

The creature was five times larger than an ordinary wolf.

Its strength was overwhelming.

Its movements were faster than its enormous body should have allowed.

Every strike forced him backward.

He attacked the creature's shoulder.

His sword cut through thick fur.

The beast roared.

It swung its enormous paw.

The young warrior barely blocked it.

The force sent him sliding across the ground.

His sword nearly slipped from his hand.

His soldiers watched helplessly.

Nobody dared interfere.

This was no ordinary battle.

It felt as though they were witnessing something that belonged to another age.

The young warrior stood again.

The black wolf charged.

This time, he did not retreat.

He ran toward it.

At the last moment, he jumped.

His blade struck beneath the creature's jaw.

The wolf screamed.

Its body crashed against the ground.

The young warrior landed hard and immediately rolled away.

But the beast stood again.

It was bleeding.

So was he.

The two stared at each other.

The wolf lowered its head.

The young warrior tightened his grip.

Then something strange happened.

The wolf's eyes changed.

For a brief moment, the young man saw something almost human inside them.

Recognition.

As if the creature knew him.

As if it had been waiting for him.

The wolf attacked one final time.

The young warrior moved to the side and drove his sword into the ground beneath the creature's chest.

The enormous beast stumbled.

The young warrior grabbed the broken remains of a spear from the ground and drove it into the wolf's shoulder.

The beast collapsed.

Silence returned to the forest.

The young warrior stood over it, barely breathing.