The Royal gates closed behind them with a deep, final sound.
Marble and gold faded into stone roads and open sky.
Cyberius stretched as they crossed the outer bridge. "You ever notice how the Royal Layer smells expensive?"
Optimus blinked. "Smells… expensive?"
"Like polished metal and responsibility."
Nyx laughed under her breath.
Metatron walked ahead, adjusting the strap on his holster. The road leading away from the city split into three trade paths. Merchant caravans moved slowly along the southern route.
The northern path was quieter.
"That way," Metatron said, nodding toward the less-traveled road.
Nyx stepped beside him. "You've done this quest line before."
"Not this one."
"But you know the terrain."
"Yes."
She didn't ask more.
They traveled for nearly an hour in-game. The city skyline shrank behind them, replaced by rolling terrain and scattered stone formations.
The air changed first.
Cooler.
Heavier.
Then the trees began.
Thick trunks. Twisted roots pushing up from the ground like claws. The forest stretched wide and deep, its canopy swallowing most of the sunlight.
Cyberius slowed slightly. "Oh."
Optimus scanned the tree line. "So this is—"
"Ironfang Wilds,"blade finished.
Nyx's eyes narrowed as she studied the forest edge. "Feels different from what I expected."
"It's territorial," he said. "Not chaotic. If it's unstable now, something pushed it."
The moment they stepped past the first line of trees, the atmosphere shifted.
Sound dampened.
Wind quieted.
Even Cyberius stopped talking.
They moved carefully.
Nyx adjusted her grip on her sword but didn't draw it yet.
Metatron's hand hovered near his gun — relaxed, but ready.
A low growl rolled through the trees.
Not close.
But not far either.
Optimus swallowed. "Alpha?"
"Scout," Metatron replied.
Nyx glanced at him. "You can tell from that?"
"Yes."
A shadow moved between trees.
Fast nyx saw it too.
She didn't speak — just shifted slightly closer to him without thinking.
Cyberius whispered, "I don't like that we can't see health bars yet."
Then the underbrush exploded.
A massive wolf-like beast burst into the clearing, iron-gray fur streaked with dark markings. Its eyes glowed faintly, not wild — calculating.
Nyx drew her sword in one smooth motion.
Metatron raised his gun.
The beast circled instead of charging.
Observing.
"That's not normal," Optimus muttered.
"No," Metatron agreed.
The wolf let out a sharp howl.
The forest answered.
Multiple howls echoed back — layered, coordinated.
Nyx exhaled slowly. "That's not a scout."
Metatron's eyes sharpened.
"No. That's a call."
Branches snapped behind them.
More shapes emerged between trees.
Not a random encounter.
Not wandering mobs.
Organized.
Cyberius stepped closer to Optimus. "Okay. I officially miss marble floors."
The first wolf lunged.
Blade fired ,pushing it back but the wolf was still standing.
Nyx moved forward at the same time, blade flashing across its shoulder. Clean. Controlled.
The beast didn't retreat fully.
It tested them.
Then another attacked from the side.
Nyx pivoted and parried, sparks flying as claw met steel.
Metatron rotated, shooting the second wolf mid-air before it reached her blind spot.
This time she glanced back — brief, instinctive.
He was already repositioning.
Three more shapes moved in the trees.
The earlier calm of Royal Layer felt distant now.
The wolves weren't reckless.
They were probing.
Learning.
Nyx's expression shifted — not fear, not panic.
Focus.
"They're not attacking to kill," she said quietly.
"They're measuring," Metatron replied.
Another howl cut through the forest.
Deeper.
Heavier.
The smaller wolves immediately stepped back.
Even Cyberius felt it.
"Please tell me that's not the alpha."
Metatron didn't answer.
The trees ahead parted slowly.
A much larger wolf stepped into view.
Broader frame. Darker fur. A faint scar cutting across one eye.
Its gaze locked onto Metatron first.
Then Nyx.
Then both of them.
Silence stretched between predator and players.
Nyx lowered her stance slightly.
Metatron steadied his aim.
But the alpha didn't charge.
It studied them for several seconds longer.
Then, unexpectedly—
It turned.
The smaller wolves followed instantly.
Within seconds, the clearing was empty.
Only broken branches and disturbed soil remained.
Cyberius blinked. "Did… did we just get rejected?"
Optimus frowned. "That wasn't retreat behavior."
Nyx slowly sheathed her sword.
"They weren't hunting us."
Metatron lowered his gun.
"No."
She looked at him.
"They're moving somewhere."
"Yes."
A slow realization settled over the group.
The blacksmith wasn't exaggerating.
This wasn't random aggression.
This was migration.
Organized.
Purposeful.
Nyx stepped closer again, scanning the direction the alpha disappeared.
"If they're relocating, something bigger pushed them."
Metatron's gaze hardened slightly.
"Yes."
And whatever it was…
It wasn't normal Ironfang behavior.
The forest felt like it was holding its breath.