Chapter 12: Chapter 12: A Mistake Paid in Blood

Gasps echoed from the walls. Everyone could see someone had jumped off the wall and run toward the beast.

“Finn?!”

“Is he crazy?!”

“What is he doing?!”

The villagers couldn’t believe their eyes. Finn, the quiet and careful Finn, was sprinting straight at the beast.

Old Thom, who had been the loudest moments ago, now stood frozen. His mouth opened to shout again, but no words came. His voice, like everyone else’s, had been stolen by fear.

"No... No... Please protect that kid, gods," Old Thom prayed.

Below, the battle had shifted.

Xabi and the other warriors had joined in to help Old Hann, forcing the wounded beast into a corner.

The Chief, bloodied and tired, had fallen to one knee. The wolf was still standing. Still dangerous.

And Finn was running right at it.

‘This is it. One hit. That’s all I need,’ Finn told himself.

The moment felt surreal.

His body moved faster than it ever had. The strength in his limbs didn’t even feel real. Like he was wearing someone else’s power. His muscles pulsed with energy. His heart roared in his ears.

The beast didn’t see him coming. It was focused on the warriors in front of it.

Finn jumped and shouted, "Take this!"

He raised his right fist, ready to deliver his strongest punch, with every bit of strength he had.

Seventeen points of raw Strength. He believed that was supposed to be more than enough. He believed the system had made him much stronger.

Enough to crush bone. Enough to end it in one blow.

Finn launched his fist with everything he had. His aim was the beast’s skull, just behind the ear, where it looked most vulnerable.

But he misjudged the timing. The angle. The speed.

His punch landed against the beast’s thick side, just behind the shoulder blade.

THUMP!

The hit connected hard.

The force rippled through the beast’s body, but it didn’t stagger. It didn’t cry out.

It simply flinched… and turned. Looking at Finn.

Finn’s eyes widened. ‘No… that didn’t do anything?!’

Panic crept up his spine.

He had imagined the beast dropping in a heap. He had believed the numbers would carry him. That Strength alone would be enough.

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But now?

Now it looked at him like he was nothing.

“What the hell…?” Finn whispered. “It really did nothing?”

From the edge of the chaos, Xabi’s voice broke through.

“Finn?! What are you doing?! Get back!” He shouted as he moved forward quickly to drag Finn out of the beast's attacking range.

But Finn didn’t hear him. His heart was pounding too loudly.

He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the creature. Its snarling jaw, its burning yellow gaze, the ripple of muscle under its dark fur.

There was no roar of pain. No bone cracking. No blood.

Just… silence. And then the beast’s head lowered, fangs bared.

It was about to retaliate.

And Finn knew that he’d made a terrible mistake. No. A grave mistake.

The beast lunged with terrifying speed, claws extended and fangs bared, aiming straight for Finn.

He stood completely exposed, frozen in place, unable to move or scream. His legs wouldn’t respond.

‘I was wrong… I made a mistake…’

Finn squeezed his eyes shut.

He didn’t want to die. Not like this. Not with so much left undone.

But the killing blow never came.

Instead, the ground shook with a violent impact.

THUD!

His eyes flew open.

Standing in front of him was Old Hann.

The Village Chief had thrown himself between Finn and the beast, taking the full force of the strike. The monster’s claws tore deep into his back, ripping through cloth and flesh alike. Blood ran down his cloak in thick rivulets.

But Hann did not fall.

He didn’t even cry out.

He stood firm, unmoving, his broad back shielding Finn like a wall of stone.

“Ch-Chief?” Finn’s voice cracked.

Old Hann turned his head slightly, just enough to glance over his shoulder.

His face was twisted in pain, yet somehow, there was a flicker of a smile curling at the edge of his lips.

“I’ll be damned,” he said in a low, gravelly voice. “Didn’t think I’d live to see you charge a beast head-on.”

Finn’s hands trembled. “I thought I could kill it. I really thought I was strong enough…”

“You’ve got heart,” Hann replied. “Some days, that’s worth more than raw power.”

With effort, he turned his full attention back to the beast. His breathing was shallow, and each inhale was a struggle. Still, his shoulders squared, his arms tensed, and his fingers reached down toward the weapon resting beside him.

His hand closed around the Blood Devourer.

He lifted it slowly, the motion deliberate and heavy, as if dragging up the weight of his years.

And then the air shifted.

A deep crimson glow pulsed from the war club. It radiated heat, rage, and something more—something ancient. It no longer looked like just a bloodstained weapon.

It looked alive.

The other warriors stopped where they stood. Even the beast took a step back, its claws dragging across the dirt as it hesitated.

Old Hann stepped forward.

The ground beneath his boot cracked under the pressure.

“Everyone, get back,” Hann commanded.

No one questioned him.

The beast growled, furious, and leapt once more.

It was a fatal decision.

With a roar that shook the sky, Old Hann raised the Blood Devourer above his head and brought it down in a crushing arc.

The air split open.

A wave of red light exploded from the weapon, slicing through the beast in a single, blinding stroke.

SLAM!

The arc hit its mark. The beast was cleaved from snout to tail, split cleanly in half.

Its body crashed to the ground, lifeless and still.

Silence followed.

No one moved.

No one breathed.

Only the dust lingered, mixing with blood in the morning air.

Then a soft chime echoed in Finn’s head.

Ding.

A system notification. But he didn’t even glance at it.

Because as the beast fell… so did Old Hann.

His knees buckled.

The Blood Devourer slipped from his grip and thudded against the earth.

And then he collapsed, face-first onto the blood-soaked dirt.

“Chief!” Xabi shouted.

He was the first to reach him, dropping to his knees and grabbing Hann by the shoulders.

“Help me!” he called out.

Rata and Taro rushed in and took hold of Hann’s arms, lifting the old man carefully between them.

“Easy now! Don’t pull too fast!”

Finn remained frozen.

Still kneeling.

Still staring at the spot where Old Hann had stood between him and death.

Tessa landed beside them moments later, her breathing ragged from the sprint.

“Take him inside!” she barked. “Now! I’ll find Mak Irah!”

Without waiting, she turned and sprinted through the East Gate, her voice echoing across the village as she screamed for the healer.

Old Hann had survived the battle.

But he was wounded badly.

And now, his life rested in the hands of the oldest woman in Riverwood.

The healer who once mended warriors broken by the old beast raids.

She was their only hope.