The forest narrowed into a clearing just wide enough for confrontation.
Ten steps separated the two groups.
Four on one side.
Five on the other.
Leaves trembled faintly in the rising breeze. Sunlight filtered through fractured canopy overhead, casting alternating light and shadow across faces now stripped of pretense.
Gavrilo stood slightly behind his temporary allies.
The archer raised her bow without command.
The dagger-user lowered her stance, weight on the balls of her feet.
The sword-boy adjusted his grip subtly—blade angled diagonally, guard half-raised.
Across from them—
Five participants.
Their formation was tighter.
One heavy-shield user in front.
Two flanking swordsmen.
One robed caster behind.
And one lean figure whose eyes never stopped moving.
Leadership radiated from the shield-bearer.
He stepped forward half a pace.
"Looks like we crossed paths."
His voice carried forced ease.
Gavrilo watched micro-signals.
Flankers shifting weight aggressively.
Caster's mana pooling near palm.
No one here desired dialogue.
They desired thinning.
The air tightened.
A leaf dropped between them.
The dagger-user whispered under her breath, "First strike?"
The sword-boy inhaled—
And then—
It came.
A howl.
Not sharp.
Not distant.
But heavy.
Layered with resonance that vibrated through soil and bark alike.
It did not echo.
It dominated.
Every head turned instinctively toward the direction of that sound.
Another howl followed—closer.
And then—
Branches snapped in the undergrowth.
Not one.
Not two.
Many.
From the northern ridge, a wave of grey fur burst through the trees.
Ten wolves.
Larger than the previous low-tier ones.
Lean muscle beneath thick coats.
Eyes burning amber.
Mana faint but present.
And behind them—
It emerged.
The Alpha.
Five times larger than its pack.
Shoulders towering above brush line.
Scar cutting across one eye.
Fangs long enough to gleam like curved daggers in broken sunlight.
Mana density—
Substantial.
Third circle equivalent at least.
Possibly more.
Its growl rolled low across the clearing like distant thunder.
All ten wolves fanned outward instinctively.
Encircling.
Testing.
The shield-bearer across from them reacted first.
He turned slightly toward Gavrilo's side.
"Temporary truce."
"Fight them first."
"Common enemy."
He did not lower his shield.
He did not step closer.
He simply declared it.
The archer beside Gavrilo nodded sharply.
"Agreed."
The sword-boy followed.
The dagger-user's jaw tightened but she nodded as well.
Gavrilo inclined his head once.
Agreement outwardly.
Internally—
He calculated.
Common enemy logic is surface-level.
Trust collapse under stress is predictable.
The Alpha stepped forward.
Ten meters.
Nine.
The wolves' paws crushed leaves beneath them.
Breath visible faintly in air.
Their formation tightened.
Three left.
Three right.
Four center.
Alpha in rear-center.
Classic pack assault.
The shield-bearer shouted, "Hold line!"
His group braced.
Gavrilo felt his temporary allies tense.
Archer drawing.
Sword-boy shifting forward.
Dagger-user preparing flank intercept.
Eight meters.
Seven.
Gavrilo moved.
Mana threads shot from his fingertips invisibly.
Fine.
Precise.
They wrapped around his three allies—around wrists and waists—just as wolves reached five meters.
He pulled.
And leapt.
His legs propelled upward toward the nearest tree trunk.
His mana threads lifted his teammates with him in synchronized motion.
Branches snapped as he landed upon lower limb.
He did not stop.
He climbed two branches higher and placed each ally onto adjacent perches with controlled release.
The archer gasped in shock.
"What are you doing? We agreed to fight together!"
Below—
Chaos erupted.
The five-person team had no such repositioning.
Wolves collided into their shield line immediately.
Fangs clashed against steel.
Flankers were forced wide.
The Alpha surged forward with terrifying acceleration.
The ground trembled under its weight.
Gavrilo did not answer immediately.
He crouched upon branch.
Eyes locked downward.
The five-person team—
Were climbing.
One by one.
The caster first.
Then one flanker.
Then shield-bearer abandoning position entirely.
They scrambled toward trees opposite direction.
Without a word.
Without signal.
Without warning.
The archer's eyes widened.
"They said truce—!"
Gavrilo pointed downward calmly.
"With whom?"
"Look."
All three followed his gesture.
The opposing team had already ascended halfway up separate trunks.
The wolves redirected instantly.
Three began scaling the nearest tree.
The Alpha reared back and leapt—massive claws digging into bark, climbing with shocking agility.
The archer's lips parted in stunned silence.
"They didn't even tell us…"
Gavrilo's voice cut cold and even.
"Rule number one of mercenaries."
"Never trust anyone."
His eyes did not leave battlefield.
The wolves below split attention between climbing targets.
One attempted scaling Gavrilo's tree.
He flicked a small mana pulse downward.
Subtle.
Disrupting bark friction.
The wolf lost grip and fell.
Snarling.
Another wolf leapt at trunk.
The dagger-user beside him tightened her grip.
"We fight from here?"
"Yes."
He pointed briefly.
"Target legs."
"Do not overextend."
The archer regained composure quickly.
She nocked and released in fluid motion.
Arrow struck a wolf's shoulder joint mid-climb.
It howled and dropped.
The sword-boy steadied himself on branch opposite and slashed downward when one wolf lunged upward.
The blade cut shallow but enough to deter climb.
Below—
The five-person team was less coordinated.
One flanker lost footing under wolf attack.
Fell.
Scream cut short as three wolves swarmed.
The Alpha reached mid-trunk near the shield-bearer.
Claws tearing wood.
Shield-bearer panicked.
Attempted downward strike.
Alpha caught his shield edge in jaws and wrenched violently.
The man fell.
Impact heavy.
Alpha descended with crushing weight.
Silence followed seconds later.
Gavrilo observed without expression.
Calculated.
The forest now divided.
Wolves attacking two separate tree clusters.
The Alpha repositioned.
Its single scarred eye fixed briefly upon Gavrilo's branch.
Recognition flickered.
This one sees from height.
This one moved differently.
Good.
He wanted the Alpha's attention.
He leaned slightly forward.
Mana gathered subtly within his spiral circuits.
But he did not release yet.
He allowed the wolves to thin further.
The opposing group had lost two already.
Three remained.
Shaken.
Clinging to bark desperately.
Their truce dissolved entirely.
The archer whispered beside him.
"You knew."
"Yes."
"How?"
"They hesitated before agreeing."
"They never adjusted formation."
"They were waiting for opportunity."
Her jaw tightened.
She exhaled slowly.
"I see."
Another wolf attempted scaling near her branch.
She shot again—clean through eye.
It dropped instantly.
Efficient.
The dagger-user glanced toward Gavrilo.
"You always this calm?"
"No."
"Just prepared."
Below—
The Alpha leapt from fallen trunk and charged toward their tree.
The ground shook under its sprint.
Remaining wolves regrouped around it.
Four left including Alpha.
Its growl deepened.
This was no simple beast.
This was designed test.
Group coordination under betrayal.
Pressure under false truce.
Mercenary Alliance understood human nature well.
The Alpha reached trunk.
Leapt.
Claws dug deep.
It began climbing.
Slow.
But powerful.
Each movement splitting bark.
The archer drew arrow but hesitated.
"Too thick."
"Neck," Gavrilo said.
"Wait for stretch."
He descended one branch lower.
Deliberate.
Inviting aggression.
The Alpha's eye locked onto him.
It lunged upward.
In that instant—
Its throat extended.
"Now."
Arrow released.
It struck deep beneath jaw.
Not fatal.
But lodged.
The Alpha roared violently.
Lost grip briefly.
Fell halfway.
Regained hold.
Fury intensified.
Gavrilo's eyes sharpened.
Good.
Aggravated predator loses patience.
He dropped fully from branch.
Landing lightly on ground opposite side of trunk.
The Alpha saw him.
Abandoned climb.
Turned.
Charged.
The archer gasped above.
"What are you doing?!"
He did not answer.
He stepped forward calmly.
Mana threads forming between fingers.
The Alpha lunged—
And he moved sideways.
Palm pressed briefly against its flank.
Mana surged inward.
Disrupting muscular contraction momentarily.
The Alpha staggered mid-stride.
He pivoted.
Drew short blade from inner sleeve.
Single upward slash across exposed throat where arrow lodged.
Blood sprayed hot and dark.
The Alpha collapsed heavily.
Ground trembled once more.
Silence followed.
The remaining wolves froze.
Instinct wavered.
Then broke.
They fled.
Disappearing into forest shadow.
Gavrilo stood still.
Breathing controlled.
Blade lowered.
Blood staining dark soil beneath him.
Above—
His temporary allies stared down in silence.
Across clearing—
Two survivors from opposing team clung to trees, shaken and pale.
Trust shattered.
Numbers reduced again.
The forest returned to uneasy quiet.
Gavrilo wiped blade once against fallen Alpha's fur.
Sheathed it calmly.
Then looked up toward his allies.
"Next time," he said evenly,
"Climb before you agree."
The archer swallowed.
Then nodded slowly.
And the forest—
Having devoured more than beasts—
Prepared to thin again.
Because Phase One was not about wolves.
It was about instinct.
And betrayal.
And who climbed—
Before others thought to.