Chapter 10: Chapter 10: The Warrior Beneath the Wrinkles

Without waiting for anyone, Old Hann jumped. He leaped forward in order to get a good distance from the wall.

"Chief!" one of the villagers on the wall shouted.

For a moment, time slowed. The Village Chief seemed as if he was landing in slow motion. The worn war club shimmered under the morning sun, casting a shadow across the village walls.

And then, a loud sound echoed.

BOOM.

He landed like thunder.

Dust exploded around his boots. The earth trembled beneath the weight of his body and weapon. For a heartbeat, even the wind stopped. The villagers above stood frozen atop the stone wall, eyes wide, breath held.

The Blood Devourer hung at his side.

And across from him, the beast stopped.

No more snarls. No more ramming.

It turned.

Its yellow eyes narrowed as it locked onto the old man standing tall and still in the clearing before the wall.

“Come on,” Old Hann muttered under his breath. "Let me be your opponent."

He then looked at the others on top of the stone wall and added, "Let me show the younger generation how a leader should act and... fight."

Finn gulped. He sensed that Old Hann had grown more hostile toward him over the past few years, and today it was especially evident. He turned to look at Xabi and a thought crossed his mind.

“Perhaps Hann dislikes me because he perceives me as the thinker type who might influence Xabi to refrain from using his strength when it matters.”

Still, Finn turned his attention toward Old Hann and the beast again.

Old Hann's muscles coiled. He adjusted his grip on the war club. His knees bent slightly into a familiar stance, one forged through decades of battle.

“Watch closely, everyone,” Tessa murmured, eyes locked on the scene below. “It’s not every day we see the Chief in action.”

Her voice carried enough weight that the others around her nodded in silence.

Down beneath the wall, within the village, more villagers had begun to gather near the East Gate.

Murmurs rose among them as they noticed the commotion above where the strongest warriors were all stationed atop the newly formed wall, tense and unmoving.

“What’s going on up there?”

“Why are Xabi and the others standing on the wall?”

Then came the cry from one of the climbers, already halfway up a ladder.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“The Chief’s fighting the beast!”

“What?! The Chief?!”

“I want to see it too!”

That was all it took.

More ladders were pulled from sheds and fences. Children called for their parents. Parents hoisted up their children. One by one, villagers climbed the wall, ignoring the dangers, desperate to witness the legend of Old Hann with their own eyes.

In mere moments, the few hundred meters' narrow one-meter-wide walltop began to crowd with eager onlookers. Some with gasps of awe, others whispering prayers under their breath.

Xabi turned and felt his stomach drop.

There were too many.

A toddler clung to a man’s leg. An old woman was gripping the edge with trembling fingers. A boy with no shoes stood tiptoe, trying to peer over someone’s shoulder.

“Everyone!” Xabi shouted, raising both arms, his voice firm and commanding. “Please step back from the edge! One wrong move, and you’ll fall!”

A hush swept across the crowd. For a second, no one moved.

Xabi’s voice softened, but carried more weight than before. “If any of you fall… that beast won’t give you a second chance. I need all of you to be smart. Stay back. Let us handle this.”

The walltop slowly began to settle. People backed away, just enough to give space, just enough to let the warriors breathe.

Below, the thud of Old Hann’s war club echoed once again.

And every soul on that wall now watched with reverence, aware they were witnessing not just a fight, but the echo of a legacy.

The beast gave a guttural growl and began to circle, its paws scraping against the dirt.

The two predators—one ancient, one wild—stood facing each other in silence.

Then it charged.

The beast lunged with terrifying speed, jaws wide, and claws aimed for Hann’s throat.

But the Chief moved first.

With a roar, he pivoted and swung the Blood Devourer in a heavy arc. It collided mid-air with the beast’s flank.

CRACK!

The blow didn’t just knock the beast off course, it sent it tumbling sideways, yelping in pain. It rolled twice across the dirt before landing hard and skidding to a stop.

“By the gods…” someone whispered from atop the wall.

Old Hann exhaled slowly. “Still got it,” he muttered.

The wolf staggered to its feet. Its ribs were likely bruised, but not broken. It snarled again, this time with hesitation.

But Old Hann didn’t wait.

He sprinted forward.

Each step thundered. The Blood Devourer rose again, and this time, he slammed it down from above.

THUD!

The beast barely dodged to the side. Dirt exploded. A crater appeared where the war club struck. The wolf leapt back, swiping as it moved. Its claws nicked the side of Hann’s arm.

The Chief didn’t flinch.

He spun, using the weight of the weapon to generate momentum, and landed a clean blow on the beast’s hind leg.

WHACK!

The beast let out another sharp cry and stumbled—but it wasn’t finished.

It twisted mid-fall and lunged again, this time catching Old Hann in the shoulder with a vicious tackle.

The two collapsed in a heap, dust clouding around them.

The villagers gasped.

“Chief!” Xabi shouted, already reaching for his bow.

But Old Hann wasn’t done.

From beneath the creature’s weight, his fist shot up and slammed into the wolf’s jaw.

“Get off me!”

He rolled, twisting his body, and slammed the flat of his club against the beast’s skull.

THUMP!

The beast recoiled and leapt away.

Old Hann stood again, chest rising and falling. His breaths were getting heavier now. His knees didn’t bend as easily. The fire in his bones was still there, but the oil was running low.

‘Damn it… I'm not twenty anymore.’

The beast, limping now, circled again. Its fur was wet with blood, one leg dragging slightly.

Hann narrowed his eyes. His vision was beginning to blur around the edges.

From above, Xabi’s voice rang out.

“Chief! Let us help!”

“No!” Hann barked without looking up. “This is my fight!”

But even as he shouted, his grip weakened. His shoulders burned. His left leg trembled under his weight.

The beast charged one more time.

And this time, Old Hann was slower to react.

The wolf’s claws raked across his thigh. He grunted, staggered, and barely got the club up to block a second strike.

He countered with a short jab to the ribs, but the force wasn’t the same. The beast winced, but kept coming.

Blow after blow, the battle dragged on.

Each exchange was fiercer than the last.

But the cost was clear.

Old Hann was breaking.

He wouldn’t last much longer.

And from the wall, Finn clenched his fist, heart pounding, realizing the truth.

If they didn’t act now… they might lose him.

And Riverwood would lose more than a chief.

They’d lose a legend.