Ethan crouched down, wiping his bloodied hands on a torn scrap of cloth before storing the dismbered corpse of the Orc Warlord into his inventory. One by one, the fallen orcs vanished into shimring motes of light as he stored them away.
By the ti he reached the thirty-eighth body, the system's chanical ding echoed in his mind.
[Inventory capacity full.]
"Uhh…" Ethan blinked in mild annoyance.
Lirael tilted her head. "Hmm? What happened?"
"My subspace is full now," he sighed.
Finally, a spark of satisfaction lit Lirael's eyes. She crossed her arms with a little smirk. "At last! So limit to your cheat system. I was beginning to think it was infinite."
Ethan ignored her gloating and asked silently: System, can storage be expanded?
[10,000 SP = 10 cubic ters.]
His lips curved into a grin. "Heh. Nice."
[–100,000 SP]
[ 100 cubic ters of storage unlocked.]
"Perfect," he muttered, stretching his fingers before resuming his grisly task.
Lirael blinked. "Wait—didn't you just say it was full?"
"Yeah," Ethan replied casually, dragging another corpse into his hand. "I just increased the space."
Her jaw dropped. "What?! You—! Ugh, you're impossible! Hmph!" She huffed, stamping her foot, the sound sharp against the blood-soaked earth.
Ethan chuckled as one after another, the battlefield emptied into his subspace. Soon, not a single orc corpse remained. Only the stench of blood and iron lingered in the cool air. Now only the qolfs remain.
He straightened, dusting his palms, and glanced toward them. Their towering forms stood silently, their dark pelts rippling faintly under the dim light. Even in death, they carried a presence that made the air feel heavy.
"Hmm…" Ethan's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Lirael, what do you think? If we take Nyxfang and Seloria with us, will anyone suspect they're dead?"
She blinked. "Nyxfang? Seloria? Wait… these wolves? You nad them?"
Ethan shook his head. "No. They were already nad."
Lirael gave a small snort. "Figures."
"Ayy! I am listening!"
She ignored him and stepped closer, studying the wolves' still, watchful forms. Their fur glead unnaturally, not a single trace of decay or wound showing. "If we look at them like this, they do seem alive. I've heard that high-ranked beasts can even mask their breathing. So, I doubt people will notice right away… unless we run into a necromancer."
Ethan's grin sharpened. "And what would they even do if they did know? Complain that I tad the dead?" His voice carried an edge of smug defiance.
Lirael's lips curled into a sly giggle. "Hehe… you're right. I think most would think twice before provoking a soone who strolls around with perfectly intact, dead Black Wolves."
The wolves' golden pupils glowed faintly, as if agreeing with Lirael.
It was ti to leave.
Ethan paused mid-step, an idea flashing through his mind. He turned to the towering wolf, Nyxfang, and with a small grin, vaulted onto its broad back. The wolf's shadowy fur was coarse yet oddly warm beneath his palms.
"You good? Can you walk like this?" Ethan asked, leaning forward slightly.
A pulse of intent rippled through their mind, steady and firm. Yes, lord.
Lord?
Ethan's grin widened. "Great." He glanced back at Lirael. "You should ride with Sylvie on Seloria. Hehe… we'll head back to the city in style."
Lirael's eyes widened slightly, her usual composure cracking into genuine excitent. "That… will be aweso." With a swift jump, she landed gracefully on Seloria's back, arranging Sylvie's limp form gently in front of her. She wrapped one arm protectively around the girl while steadying herself with the other.
"Nyxfang," Ethan commanded, his voice lit with excitent. "Lead the way."
The great wolf lowered its head and rumbled, beginning to move with silent steps.
Ethan summoned five spectral soldiers to march alongside them. Their armor glead faintly which was restored as his mana had replenished, their presence a silent shield. Together, they cut a striking procession: two enormous Black Wolves, their glowing eyes piercing the twilight, flanked by armored soldiers and led by a man astride death itself.
Lirael gave a soft, almost girlish giggle. "If Sylvie were awake, she'd be beaming right now. She wanted to touch these wolves… and now she's riding one."
Ethan glanced at her. "Well, Seloria and Nyxfang would be more than happy to spoil her. She healed them, after all."
As if in agreent, both wolves gave a low, resonant hum.
Before they left the forest clearing, Ethan dismissed the soldiers with a wave of his hand. "That's far enough. You were just here in case of any surprises." The armored soldiers saluted silently before vanishing into motes of silver.
By the ti they neared the city, dusk had deepened into a velvety indigo. The towering gates of Iridale city(Mastok) lood ahead, lanterns burning atop the walls. Even from a distance, the silhouettes of the two Black Wolves drew every eye—massive, sleek shadows moving with eerie poise.
Gasps carried on the wind. So townsfolk froze mid-step, awe written plainly on their faces. Others stumbled back in fear, clutching at cloaks or pulling children behind them. Murmurs spread like wildfire.
"Are those… wolves?"
"No, too big…"
"Gods above, are they tad?"
The atmosphere thickened, charged with a mingling of reverence and dread, as Ethan and his companions rode toward the city gate like a procession.
As Ethan and his party drew closer, the guards at the city gates stiffened. Torches flickered against their polished helms, but none of that bravado hid the way their throats bobbed nervously. The sheer presence of the two Black Wolves—silent, hulking shadows with eyes that glead like molten gold—was enough to set even seasoned soldiers on edge.
Still, duty was duty. One guard stepped forward, his spear held steady though his knuckles whitened around the shaft.
"U-uhh… Excuse ," he stamred, his voice cracking slightly. "May I know the reason for your visit?"
Ethan reined Nyxfang to a halt and answered evenly, his tone carrying quiet authority. "We're adventurers. Went to complete a subjugation mission. Along the way… we tad these wolves." He gestured casually at the towering beasts beside him.
The guard's eyes darted between Ethan's battered form and the unconscious girl cradled carefully in Lirael's arms. They had clearly fought hard. And yet—no visible spoils.
"...T-tad?" The man's disbelief was obvious. He licked his lips nervously. "But… I don't see any spoils…"
With a faint smile, Ethan raised his hand and flashed the ornate subspace ring he wore—an imitation crafted precisely for this purpose.
"Still," the guard pressed carefully, lowering his tone as though afraid of offending. "Are you certain those wolves won't… go out of control?"
Ethan's gaze sharpened. His voice dropped into a cool finality. "No. They're under my complete control. You don't need to worry."
The wolves seed to punctuate his words with a low, synchronized rumble. The guard swallowed hard and quickly stepped back, bowing his head.
"R-right. Of course. Please proceed."
After that, the rest was a formality. Ethan produced his adventurer's badge and city pass, the guard checked them and the way forward opened. The massive gates creaked, torches swaying in the breeze as Ethan and his companions entered the city, their procession drawing every eye they passed.
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