As Sinclair and his companions wound deeper into the cavernous salt mine, the absence of any Myrkr or its minions was disquieting. The pressing silence of the tunnels only amplified his intuition that something was amiss. Thanks to his ability to communicate telepathically with Direwolves, which also apparently applied to regular wolves, he heard Onyx's urgent mental call confirming his fears.

"My Lord, the golems attack from the other direction. You must hurry!" The message, urgent and clear, jolted him into action.

Knowing every moment spent in the mine's depths was a moment lost to defend the village, Sinclair didn't hesitate. With a swift motion, he hoisted Rose onto his back. "RUN!" he commanded, his voice echoing off the salt-encrusted walls.

They surged forward, a blur of speed and determination, Sinclair's strides long and powerful. The dank air of the subterranean passage rushed past them, carrying the scent of earth and the tang of salt, a stark contrast to the open air they desperately sought.

Rose, secured firmly on Sinclair's back, felt the tension in his frame. It communicated more than words ever could. He was worried, and she could feel it in him. She knew him well enough to know what was going through his head right now and how he was beating himself up. She would have to set him straight afterwards, she reminded herself. He was moving so fast there was no way she could say anything right now with her head tucked into the back of his helmet.

They burst forth from the mine entrance, the sunlight momentarily blinding after the gloom of the tunnels. Sinclair's sharp eyes quickly adjusted, focusing on the threat at hand.

With Rose in tow and his companions flanking him, Sinclair dashed towards the beleaguered village, his howl, a mix of fury and determination, cut through the chaos. It was a call to arms, a promise of retribution.

The landscape blurred past as he and his companions thundered down the rocky path. As they approached the final hill, the grim sight that greeted them was like a still from a nightmare — a titanic golem, its silhouette a grotesque mockery of life, loomed ominously over the village.

Gently placing Rose on the ground, Sinclair's voice was calm yet urgent, spurring her and the Direwolves into action. "Get to the defenders! Cover them as best you can."

Sinclair's hands clasped the haft of his axe, its surface humming with the gathered potency of his power. Mana swirled around the blade, a visible aura of destructive promise. He could feel the weapon vibrating as he poured more and more mana into it, aching for release, as if it understood the direness of their plight.

With a roar of effort that echoed off the encroaching cliffs, he launched the axe. It cut through the air with lethal precision, a harbinger of his wrath. Streaking fire and whistling like an inbound missile attack. Sinclair didn't linger to watch its flight; his trust in his own skill was absolute. Instead, he pressed on, his focus shifting to the immediate threat before him.

Leaping over the village's defensive barrier, Sinclair landed with a thud that sent ripples through the soft earth. His hatchets, smaller but no less deadly than their larger counterparts, found their place in his hands. He didn't get a chance to fight with these as often, but that did not mean he was any less deadly.

The ground shivered underfoot, and he glanced back just in time to witness the impact. The axe had found its mark, carving a gaping wound through the golem's stone flesh. The creature staggered, its form nearly cleaved in two.

The golem was relentless, driven by some unholy animation. It straightened, the hole in its torso seemingly inconsequential, and continued its march forward, each step sending vibrations that could shake window panes. Sinclair fired off Valykrie's Gaze as he closed the distance.

Name: Rúnskel

Race: Mutated Rune Stone Construct

Level: ??

Description: Forged by Norse dwarves in the same ancient forge that birthed Gullinbursti, Rúnskel was once a marvel of rune-infused craftsmanship, designed as a guardian of the sacred mines. Its body, a massive amalgamation of smooth rune-carved stone and glittering veins of enchanted ore, shimmered with protective energy. Corrupted by the Myrkr, the intricate runes now glow with a sickly green hue, their original purpose twisted. Once a proud protector, Rúnskel is now an unrelenting force of destruction.

The cacophony of warfare picked back up and filled the air, a discordant symphony accompanying the determined defenders as they unleashed a volley of attacks against the encroaching stone golems' smaller minions. It was difficult for their arrows and piercing weapons to bring the little golems down. In enough numbers, it worked, but those numbers were getting smaller as injuries mounted.

Rose, her attention fixed on the advancing golems, unleashed a maelstrom of fire and wind. Her Infernal Gale spell roared to life, engulfing the enemies in a tempest of flames that consumed everything in its path. As the fiery storm raged, she layered the area with Ice Orbs, each orb erupting on impact and creating a slowing effect. She could only do that combo a couple of times before running out of mana and needing to rest or take a mana potion. Though the damage from the ice was minimal, the combined effects of fire and frost gave the villagers critical moments to concentrate their attacks on smaller, isolated sections of the horde.

Amidst the chaos, Sinclair's voice rang out, calling to Ed through the maelstrom of noise. "Ed, take over here. I have to go out there and keep it away from the village." His words cut through the clamor.

Ed's response was tinged with concern, his eyes tracking the remnants of Sinclair's shattered axe. "What are you going to do? That thing is massive. And I hate to tell you, but I saw shards of your axe spinning off everywhere."

The news struck Sinclair like a physical blow, rendering his cherished weapon, a token of friendship and battles past, asunder. But within him, the embers of rage kindled into a roaring inferno, fueling his resolve.

Sinclair turned to face the massive golem, his vision narrowing as the towering colossus filled his focus. A crimson haze seemed to frame the world as the sheer weight of its presence bore down on him. With a roar that tore from his throat, he surged forward, activating Leap and Focused Charge in rapid succession.

The ground vanished beneath him as he shot toward the golem, a blur of fury and momentum. He collided with the creature's stony flank, his landing jolting through its massive frame. Without hesitation, Sinclair swapped his hatchets for bare hands, his fingers digging into the jagged crevices of its form. The rough stone tore at his skin, but he didn't falter.

Every muscle strained as he climbed, his movements sharp and deliberate. The golem's rocky surface was unyielding, forcing Sinclair to fight for every inch. Its body shifted as it moved, each step threatening to dislodge him, but he held firm, his focus unwavering.

Reaching the top, Sinclair's gaze darted across the golem's crown, searching for a weakness. His instincts screamed for a target, but he found none. No core, no rune, no vulnerable point was easily identifiable. He growled under his breath, frustration clawing at the edges of his resolve.

The golem retaliated, its massive limbs swinging in slow but powerful arcs. Sinclair's body jolted as one of its arms moved, the air displacement alone nearly throwing him from his perch. He adjusted quickly, darting across the golem's shoulders, his hands hammering at creases and cracks as he searched for any sign of weakness.

The creature's motions grew more deliberate, its fists smashing into the ground in an attempt to swat Sinclair away. One strike came perilously close, the force of the near-miss sending a shockwave up through the golem's body and into Sinclair's legs. He staggered, the tremor nearly breaking his grip as he clung to its uneven surface.

A sudden shift in the golem's stance caught him off guard. Its massive fist swung upward, clipping Sinclair's side. The impact sent a searing jolt through his ribs and knocked him off balance. He barely caught hold of a protruding edge, his knuckles white as he held on. His ears rang from the collision, and his breath came in ragged gasps as he steadied himself.

Ignoring the sharp pain lancing through his side, Sinclair gritted his teeth and pushed forward. Every motion the golem made was like a mountain shifting beneath him, but he refused to let go. His hands continued their relentless assault, hammering at its surface as he searched for any sign of vulnerability. The battle raged on, his strength and determination pitted against the unyielding force of stone and magic.

The next blow came without warning. The golem's massive arm swept across its body in a backhanded strike, the force slamming into Sinclair's chest like a siege hammer. The impact sent him flying, his body twisting uncontrollably through the air. For a moment, all he could see was sky and stone before the ground rushed toward him with brutal certainty.

The golem's strike had swatted him down rather than upward, sparing him from being hurled all the way back to the cave entrance. Still, the sheer force was staggering.

Adrenaline surged as Sinclair twisted mid-air, his instincts taking over. He managed to reorient himself, landing in a controlled tumble that rolled out some of the impact.

The ground met him hard, his body colliding with the rocky earth in a jarring crash. Pain radiated through his ribs, sharp and unrelenting, and his head spun as he tried to steady himself. Gritting his teeth, he clenched his fists against the disorientation and pushed through the haze.

For a moment, Sinclair stayed on his hands and knees, his breath ragged as he fought against the overwhelming ache in his chest. The golem loomed above him, its hulking form casting a long shadow over the battlefield.

A sharp stab of pain flared in his side, a reminder of just how powerful the behemoth was. But it wasn't enough to stop him. With a growl that tore from his throat, Sinclair planted a foot beneath him and pushed himself upright. His muscles protested, his body battered, but he stood firm, his eyes locking onto the golem.

It was already preparing for another attack, its heavy arm rising with deliberate menace. The golem's every motion was slow but carried the weight of inevitability, each strike capable of crushing anything in its path. Sinclair's resolve remained unbroken, but he knew his bare hands would not withstand another blow like the last.

Quickly, he reached into his inventory and pulled out a sturdy club he'd looted from one of the behemoths he'd defeated earlier. The weapon was crude but solid, its dense wood reinforced with jagged metal bands. Gripping it tightly, Sinclair planted his feet firmly, angling the club across his chest.

The golem's massive arm descended with thunderous force. Sinclair braced the club against the ground, the impact sending a shockwave through his body. The collision rattled his bones and numbed his arms, but the club held, absorbing the brunt of the strike.

The force drove him back a step, his boots scraping against the rocky terrain as he struggled to maintain his balance. The air was thick with dust kicked up by the blow, but Sinclair pushed forward, his muscles straining as he shoved the golem's arm aside.

The brief reprieve gave him just enough time to reposition, and his grip tightened on the club as he prepared for the next exchange. His breaths came hard and fast, but his stance was steady, and his focus was locked on the towering form in front of him.

The golem stepped forward, its massive foot sinking into the ground with a resounding thud. Its arm swung down in an attempt to crush Sinclair, but he slipped past the descending limb, spinning sharply as he triggered Fenrir's Fury. The surge of speed propelled him forward, and he swung the iron-clad club with all his strength, driving it directly into the golem's chest.

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The blow connected with a deafening crack. The force blasted the golem backward, chunks of stone erupting from its chest like shrapnel. The ground shook as it staggered, roaring in rage. Sinclair's club shattered in his hands, the splintered remnants falling uselessly to the ground.

He didn't stop. Using the brief window of opportunity, Sinclair closed the distance, his legs pumping hard enough to leave craters in the dirt with each step. Leaping onto the golem's crumbling form, he clawed his way upward, his hands searching for purchase on the jagged surface.

As he climbed, his sharp eyes caught a faint blue glow emanating from the shattered remains of the golem's chest. The light pulsed like a heartbeat, drawing him in amidst the chaos. It was a core, glimmering with power, and something dark and writhing at its center.

Sinclair gritted his teeth as realization struck. The parasite latched onto the core was no ordinary entity—it was a Myrkr, its malevolent presence twisting the golem into a monstrosity.

Ignoring the smaller golems swarming below, Sinclair drove himself forward. He leapt from one jagged outcrop to another, ascending rapidly as the massive creature flailed in an attempt to shake him off. A sweeping arm came dangerously close, nearly smashing him, but he twisted his body, narrowly evading the strike.

Reaching the chest cavity, Sinclair dove inside, the echoes of the battle outside muffled by the thick stone walls. The glowing core loomed before him, its blue light bathing the cramped space in an eerie glow. The Myrkr parasite twisted and squirmed, trying to retreat deeper into the cavity as if sensing its end was near.

Drawing on Hel's Wrath, Sinclair's hands surged with energy, his claws tearing into the core's outer stone casing with relentless precision. Each strike reverberated through the golem's structure, cracks spidering out from the impact points. The Myrkr lashed out in response, tendrils of dark energy erupting from the core in a desperate attempt to defend itself.

One tendril slammed into Sinclair's shoulder, searing his flesh to the bone and forcing him to stagger. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he lunged forward, slashing again and again. The Myrkr squirmed frantically, trying to evade him, but there was no escape within the confines of the chest cavity.

As the stone shell surrounding the core crumbled, Sinclair unleashed Fenrir's Fury. His movements became a blur, each strike a precise, devastating blow that tore through the remaining defenses. The Myrkr writhed violently, its screeches echoing within the chamber as Sinclair's attacks tore into its exposed form.

Finally, with a thunderous crack, the core shattered. The Myrkr, now fully exposed and vulnerable, let out a piercing shriek as Sinclair delivered the final blow. His claws sliced through its writhing mass, and the creature's dark essence dissolved into the ether, leaving nothing behind.

The golem's massive form shuddered violently as the parasite's hold dissipated. Sinclair braced himself against the crumbling walls of the chest cavity, his body battered and bleeding, but his resolve unbroken. The colossal construct began to collapse, its lifeless remains tumbling to the ground as Sinclair leapt clear, landing heavily but intact.

The battlefield fell silent except for the sound of stone fragments settling around him. Sinclair knelt, his breaths ragged, the pain in his body sharp and immediate. The Myrkr's grip on the golem was broken, but the toll of the battle weighed heavily on him. He rose unsteadily, his eyes scanning the horizon for the next threat.

Panting, battered, but victorious, Sinclair took in the sight of the villagers, who had been fighting their own desperate battle. Their cheers of triumph and relief rose into the air, a clarion call that marked the end of one battle and the promise of respite, however brief it might be.

As Sinclair watched, the remaining golems meandered aimlessly, devoid of the commanding presence of their larger kin. Seizing the opportunity, the village defenders descended upon the disoriented golems, dismantling them with renewed vigor—each fallen golem granting them precious experience with little risk.

After ensuring the colossal golem was no longer a threat, Sinclair swiftly attended to the practical matters at hand—looting the remains of the golem and the Myrkr. A slight grin curled his lips as he counted the gold and tallied the experience gained from the formidable foes. His recent victory had propelled him to another level, bolstering his growth in the System.

He had to know what that creature was, though. He had briefly analyzed it and stored the information to review later.

Name: Myrkr Night Husk

Description: The Myrkr Night Husk is a parasitic creation of the dark force, designed to corrupt and control other creatures. These small, leech-like entities latch onto their host with tendrils, burrowing into the nervous system to spread Myrkr corruption. Once infected, the host's instincts are overridden, transforming gentle creatures into predators and turning fierce beasts into reckless agents of chaos. The Night Husk bends its host's mind to the will of the Myrkr, leaving them as tools of destruction.

He made a note to ask Odin where the system was getting information for these things if it did not create them. If they came from somewhere else, was the system just making stuff up as it went along? I doubt the questions will ever end at this point.

He lingered on the thought of assigning his freshly earned points, mulling over the benefits of banking them instead. The Hammer of the Thunder God title he held was a boon, tripling the experience from foes vastly superior in level. Yet, he recognized the precarious balance that continuously leveling up might soon outpace the planet's available challenges, thereby hindering his progress. I need to leave those levels alone, or I am just shooting myself in the foot for experience.

Sinclair turned his attention to the villagers and his comrades, ensuring everyone was accounted for in the wake of the battle. The immediate danger had passed, and while relief swept through the defenders, Sinclair's vigilance remained. He noted their resilience—the strength that had kept them standing despite the overwhelming odds.

Standing with his friends, unharmed and steadfast, Sinclair allowed himself a moment to take in the camaraderie of the group. "We've weathered this storm," he said, his voice steady and clear, "but we can't let our guard down. The battle may be over, but our journey isn't."

Ed, standing nearby, pointed toward Sinclair's hands. "What are those?" he asked, nodding at the gauntlets Sinclair was holding. Sinclair had pulled them from his inventory, looking at what he got from killing the golem.

Sinclair glanced down at the items in his grip. The gauntlets were long and black, their sleek design reminiscent of his own claws. The ends of the fingertips were open, leaving space for his natural weapons.

"I'm not sure yet," Sinclair replied, turning the gauntlets over in his hands. He slid them on, and the fit was uncanny. His claws extended through the open tips perfectly, while the rest of his hands were encased in dark blue metal reinforced with burnished bronze rivets. The plates moved smoothly, the articulation seamless as he flexed his fingers.

Alice stepped closer, studying the gauntlets. "They look... specific. Not exactly standard issue for a loot drop," she said.

Victoria nodded in agreement. "They definitely don't look like ordinary gear."

Sinclair nodded, his curiosity piqued. "Let's find out." He closed his eyes briefly, activating Valkyrie's Gaze. The world seemed to shift slightly as the System's energy flowed through him, ready to reveal the gauntlets' secrets.

New Item: Claws of the Night Wolves (Epic)

Description: Forged beneath the cover of darkness and imbued with the predatory essence of the midnight hunt, these claws were once wielded by the Night Wolves, an elite faction of the Wolf Lords famed for their silent ferocity and unparalleled speed. When worn, the Claws of the Night Wolves channel the relentless energy of the hunt, enhancing every strike with lethal precision. Their power grants the wearer unmatched agility and strength, allowing attacks to land with the swiftness and deadly intent of a predator in the shadows.

Effects:

+25 Agility

+20 Strength

Increases Critical Hit Damage by 15%.

Enhances attack speed, making strikes faster and more fluid.

These bonuses were nice, and the gauntlets were an extremely well-made design that fit him well. But the complete bonus for it was intense.

Full Set Bonus: The Wolf Lords' Legacy

Description: Embrace the legendary might and cunning of the Wolf Lords by donning the complete armor set. With this full set, you gain a 15% increase to all base stats, enhancing your strength, agility, and resilience in battle. Resistance to arcane and elemental magic is greatly amplified, allowing you to endure spells as though they were but fleeting whispers. Full sets allow for improvements and upgrades as the set will now grow with you.

Effects:

+15% to all base stats.

17% Increased resistance to arcane and elemental magic.

New Skill

: Phantom Call (Unique)

"It comes with a Unique skill as well. Let's see what that does." Sinclair said as he rapidly began reading the skill off.

Skill: Phantom Call (Mythic)

Description: A legendary skill reserved for the leader of the Wolf Lords, Phantom Call embodies the profound connection between the chosen leader and the lineage of their predecessors. By activating this skill, the user summons the spectral forms of past Wolf Lords, each representing unparalleled strength, wisdom, and leadership.

Effects:

Spectral Vanguard:

Summons the spectral forms of Wolf Lords of the past to fight alongside the user, each contributing their strength and abilities to the battle.

Howl of the Ancients:

The spectral Wolf Lords unleash a synchronized howl, inspiring all allies by enhancing their attack power and defense for the duration of their presence.

Resolute Spirits:

The summoned Wolf Lords bolster the morale of all allies, reducing the effects of fear, confusion, and other morale-degrading effects.

Ethereal Guard:

While active, the spectral Wolf Lords create a protective aura around the user, absorbing a portion of incoming damage and reflecting minor energy-based attacks back at enemies.

Cooldown: 30 days

Sinclair pondered the staggering might of the ability with a 30-day cooldown, comparing it to the strategic value of a nuclear option in a card game. His notifications were incessantly beeping again, prompting a sigh. There was still no clarity on the blessing from Jörd, and he had a slew of alerts to sift through.

First things first, he needed to ensure the safety of the village and conclude the quest formally. Then, he could retreat to his room to wade through the digital pile-up of notifications. Another sigh escaped him; he was acutely aware of the necessity for an assistant.

It was then that Leia offered her assistance, gently chiding, You know you could ask us to remember things for you, too. We are not just tools of war for you.

Standing there, staring at her like he was seeing her for the first time, he realized he had been treating them a bit much like tools of war and not the full companions they were. Chastened by the realization of his oversight, he turned to Chewy and Leia, acknowledging his lapse with an apologetic look. "I am sorry, you two. You're right. I've been so used to managing alone that I forgot to lean on my friends. I'll make amends."

Chewy, seizing the opportunity, piped up with a demand, and don't forget you owe me a halter like hers!

Sinclair couldn't help but laugh, nodding in agreement as he turned his attention back to the villagers. Together with his friends, he approached the village elder to assess the situation and offer any needed support.

"We never got properly introduced. I am Sinclair, the Lord of Wolf's Run," Sinclair told the woman before him, feeling a slight discomfort at using his title felt a bit pretentious. But it seemed necessary here; these people seemed to appreciate the formality.

"Well met, I am Astrid Sigvaldsdottir, the leader of Thorsgild. We are grateful you came to our aid when you did," the elder replied with a respectful nod.

"I'm happy we could help. It seems we're distant neighbors. According to my map, we're a couple of hundred miles due south from here," Sinclair informed him.

"That is quite a distance. Have you established a teleport network in your town?" Astrid inquired with a hint of curiosity in her voice.

Sinclair furrowed his brows slightly. "I'm familiar with teleportation, but I haven't seen anything like that in my city menu."

Astrid's eyes lit up with understanding. "It's something that can be gifted or purchased. When we migrated here, we brought everything with us, including our teleportation node. Once you set up yours, we'd be happy to connect it to ours."

Now, Sinclair was intrigued. He hadn't known this was possible, but it made perfect sense. "Please remind me to check this when we get back," he asked Leia, who nodded in response.

Returning his attention to Astrid, Sinclair asked, "How does it work, exactly?"

"Once your city's portal is linked to the network, you register it. If you choose to make your location public, others can see it and teleport to your town if the portal is set to open. Most keep their portals closed for security reasons unless they have the manpower to deal with potential threats. The teleportation is limited to 15 individuals at a time, which helps manage the flow," Astrid explained, her tone informative.

"I see. That's a game-changer for sure," Sinclair said, impressed. "We would be honored to join this network and extend our hospitality to Thorsgild."

Astrid nodded, pleased. "I'll make sure to add Wolf's Run to our portal's registry. Feel free to visit Thorsgild whenever you wish."

With a firm handshake sealing their burgeoning alliance, Sinclair made his way back to his group, his mind already racing with the possibilities this new information had unlocked.

"Hey guys, I need to wrap up my part of the quest and head back. There's a lot to sort through. Are you coming with me, or do you plan to stay here longer?" Sinclair addressed his friends, sensing their deep involvement in aiding the locals but feeling the tug of duties awaiting him at home.

After exchanging meaningful glances, they came to a silent agreement. "We'll stay behind and help fortify the village's defenses," Rose declared.

However, Victoria seemed a bit more hesitant before speaking up, her voice tinged with anticipation, "I'll return with you. I've finally reached level 25, and I'm eager to undergo my race evolution to catch up with everyone else."

"That's fantastic news, congratulations!" Sinclair beamed, genuinely happy for her. The others echoed his sentiments, assuring Victoria that her evolution was a priority and they'd manage fine without her for a couple of days.

Sinclair briefly shared the exciting prospect of establishing a teleportation network and suggested they coordinate with the village elders when they were ready to return.

The quest was concluded with a final wave to the locals and his friends, and teleportation took him and his returning friends back to their home.

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