I looked forward into the abyss and then pushed mana into my eyes.

A warm buzz rippled behind my eyelids, like someone had plugged my retinas directly into a magical power outlet. When I opened them, golden light bloomed across my vision. Shadows peeled away. Shapes formed.

And right in front of me…

…were twenty wolves.

All asleep.

All tiny.

All absolutely, criminally adorable.

Each one was the size of a normal wolf cub, maybe even slightly smaller, and all of them were curled up into one giant fluffy heap of black fur. A whole pile of snoozing, gently snoring mini-wolves.

Little paws twitching.

Little tails flicking.

One of them kicked in its sleep like it was dreaming of chasing butterflies.

My brain malfunctioned.

"Awwww," I exhaled before I could stop myself.

Behind me, Nora whispered sharply, "Why are you 'aww'-ing at something that could kill us?"

"Use mana," I said softly, still staring at the adorable dog mountain.

"I swear to the heavens, Sebastian, if this is one of your stu—"

"Just do it," I urged.

She grumbled, muttered something about me being insufferable, then reluctantly channelled mana into her eyes. Her irises flickered to life, brightening the darkness around us.

She finally saw them.

The silence lasted about three entire seconds before.

"…Awwww," she breathed, voice melting like butter on hot bread.

"Told you," I whispered smugly.

"They're so tiny," she whispered back, hands clasped together. "And look at the little fat one! Oh my gods, he's kicking!"

"He is," I agreed warmly. "He's fighting for his life in that dream."

Up on my shoulder, Sacha suddenly hissed, her tiny voice puffed up with betrayal.

"Sacha is not happy! Papa is staring at lower beasts! Bad papa! Bad!"

I chuckled, reaching up to scratch behind her ears. "Relax, Sacha. Papa's not replacing you."

Sacha sniffed dramatically, crossing her tiny paws. "Sacha is watching. Papa better not be lying."

Before I could soothe her further, a familiar, irritated rumble echoed through my skull.

{How stupid can a single person be?}

Ah. Bastard.

My resident floating ego spirit, or whatever he was.

'Hello to you too,' I muttered mentally.

{Twenty wolves, C-rank monsters. And you are standing here going 'aww'. You buffoon. You walnut. You absolute decoration of a man.}

'That's hurtful,' I murmured.

{HURTFUL? Hurtful is watching you walk into a den of predators and start deciding which one you want to pet.}

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

"Relax. The worst they can do is bite off my arm."

Nora made a weird noise beside me, looking at me as if I were insane. "Sebastian?!"

I waved her worry off. "It'd heal in under an hour," I added casually.

{In under—you I...how do I share the space, mental space and body with you?!}

'Sacha thinks Papa is brave!' Sacha declared proudly.

{Sacha is delusional.}

'Hey, that's rude, don't talk to my baby like that' I shot back.

Sacha gasped, offended on my behalf. 'Bastard is mean! Papa is the best papa ever! Sacha would scratch Bastard if Sacha could touch him!'

{Adorable. Absolutely useless. But adorable.}

"Both of you shut up," I whispered aloud, trying not to wake the wolf pile.

My golden eyes drifted across the sleeping cubs again.

Soft breathing.

Tails twitching.

Tiny snores.

Honestly? This was probably the least threatening death-trap I had ever walked into.

And I had walked into many.

I smirked to myself.

Well.

This was going to be interesting.

"So," I whispered, eyes still glued to the sleeping wolf pile, "Nora… what do you think would happen if I poked one of them in the cheek?"

She turned to me slowly.

Painfully slowly.

The kind of slowly that told me she was already regretting every talking to me in the first place at her royal birthday party.

"Sebastian," she said, voice flat, "your finger would be bitten off. And hopefully, hopefully, you would stop asking such stupid questions."

I grinned. "Perfect."

"Perfect?!" she whisper-shouted.

But I was already standing.

Already stepping away.

Already embracing the terrible, self-destructive impulse bubbling up inside me like a clogged toilet ready to explode.

In my head, a small, rational voice whispered, This is a horrible idea.

But it was drowned out by a louder voice going, Do it, do it, do it, poke the fluffy death gremlins.

Sacha, perched on my shoulder, stopped being cute in an instant.

"Papa."

Her tone hardened.

"Papa must not do something that stupid. Sacha's instincts say something bad will happen. Very bad. Super bad."

{Listen to the striped cat, you idiot.}

Bastard's velvet-smooth, condescending voice oozed into my skull like oil sliding down glass.

'You talk like you know what's about to happen'

{Oh I know exactly what will happen. But I'm absolutely not stopping you. This is premium entertainment. I'm getting popcorn.}

"Both of you worry too much," I murmured.

Which was ironic, because internally?

I absolutely agreed with them.

I knew this was stupid.

I knew this was how people got nightmares.

And missing fingers.

And therapy bills.

But something in my mind had been… off ever since that day when Belle gave me some spoilers about this excursion. Like something was leaning against the back of my thoughts, whispering, Go on. Do the dumb thing. It'll be funny.

Maybe it really was the nightmares messing with my sanity.

Maybe I was always like this.

Hard to tell, honestly.

---

I knelt down in front of the wolf pile.

Up close, they were even cuter.

Soft breathing.

Tiny snouts.

Twitchy ears.

Adorable little murder marshmallows.

"Sebastian…" Nora's voice wavered. "Sebastian, I swear to all eighteen heavens—"

"Shh. Scientific research," I whispered.

Sacha grabbed my hair with her tiny paws. "Papa no! Papa stop! Papa listen to Sacha!"

{Do it.}

"See?" I whispered. "Fifty percent of the voices in my head agree with me."

"That's not a good sign! And why do you even have voices in your mind, you crazy bastard?" Nora hissed.

Maybe it wasn't. And that was harsh. I'm the only person allowed to say the word 'Bastard'.

But at this point, my brain was long gone, I was thinking I owned a word while trying to pet killer dogs, my brain was like a crashing car tumbling down a hill. I wasn't steering anymore; I was just along for the ride.

I extended one finger.

One brave, heroic, absolutely doomed finger.

And gently…

Carefully…

Softly…

Poked the nearest wolf on the cheek.

I expected squish.

Softness.

Fluff.

Something cute and wholesome and spirit-healing.

Instead...

"What the—?"

Its skin was rock hard.

Like stone.

Like poking a statue.

Like petting a boulder dressed in fur.

And before I could even process that...

Twenty pairs of glowing red eyes snapped open.

All at once.

All staring directly at me with a single shared expression:

Oh. So you have chosen death.

I blinked.

Slowly.

"Well," I muttered out loud, "this is not good."

Behind me, Nora let out a dying-whale noise.

Sacha squeaked in terror.

{HAHAHAHAHA...oh, this is exquisite.}

And me?

I just stared back at the twenty red eyes, thinking:

Yep. Yeah. This tracks. This is exactly the kind of day I was expecting.

Because honestly?

At this point in my life?

This felt normal.

Terrifying.

But normal.

The wolf cub I had poked, my poor, doomed test subject, opened its tiny mouth.

There was a split second where nothing happened.

Then snap.

Its jaws clamped shut with enough force to crack stone.

Thankfully, my reflexes were faster than my intelligence. I yanked my finger out at lightning speed, stumbling back and landing softly beside Nora.

She screamed at me instantly.

"Sebastian! That... that was exactly what I told you would happen!"

I held up my finger.

Perfectly intact.

Not even a scratch.

"Yeah, but look," I said, wiggling it, "still got all ten. So technically, I win."

"You're insane!"

Probably.

Maybe.

Hard to tell these days.

The wolves, meanwhile, were no longer cute.

Or cuddly.

Or sleeping.

They were standing. Twenty of them. Forming a semicircle around us like a furry execution squad.

And then.

Crack.

Crack-crack.

CRRRAAACK.

Bones began popping, snapping, stretching. Their bodies swelled. Limbs elongated. Fur tightened across expanding muscle. Their shadows stretched across the den floor, swallowing us whole.

Within seconds, the adorable cub-sized fluffballs were ten-meter-tall monstrosities, unstable mana spilling out of them in wild, erratic waves that felt like static running over my skin.

I cursed.

Loudly.

"Well… that escalated quickly."

"No. No, it did not. This was predictable!" Nora snapped.

"Details," I said.

Twenty glowing red eyes glared down at us, promising swift and violent death.

"So," I said, forcing a smile, "want to fight them here, or go back to the others where we have traps set up?"

Nora stared at me.

Hard.

Like she was deciding whether to punch me or just let the wolves do it for her.

Finally, she let out a dead, exhausted sigh. "Fighting them near the others sounds good."

"Great choice."

I turned, nodding sagely as if this was all part of my master plan.

Then I paused, a random thought popping into my brain like a bad idea rising from the swampy mess that was my consciousness.

"…Nora?"

"What," she growled.

"Is it wrong to try and pick up girls while running away from giant wolves?"

She looked at me.

As if I were clinically, medically, professionally insane.

Which, to be fair, was a reasonable assumption.

Her expression answered for her.

"Good," I said. "Just checking."

Mana flared beneath my feet, purple fire bursting outward.

The ground bubbled and popped, the air warping from the sudden heat.

Before she could react, I grabbed her by the waist and lifted her into a princess carry.

She yelped.

The wolves snarled.

Everything was falling apart around us.

And me?

I just tightened my grip, grinned like a man who had clearly lost the last three brain cells holding his life together, and prepared to run.

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