Farosh Claw Totk Novels & Stories

"What an intriguing feat, Lavender." Twar rose from the ground. A deep blue and violet aura radiated from him, rippling outward like waves. Twar had mastered a Sika called 'Hafgufa Glima,' one of two potent branches of art dedicated to the battle skills of Viking chiefs' bloodlines. Both body and mind were honed, their bearing as resolute and fierce as the legendary Kraken beast of the seas from their ancestral land. Stepping onto the AB shield, compressed air burst forth from beneath its surface, propelling him once again towards Ravyn. In mid-air, he seized her by the waist. *snatch!*

I shook my head, “I—what? I didn't do anything! We were in a crash, Yasmine, a wolf—” Before I could finish, Yasmine lunged forward, grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me up to my feet. The sharp pain in my scalp made me gasp. “That little stunt you pulled at the game!” She hissed right into my face. “The official's kid! They followed us back, Trixie! The Northern pack retaliated!” My heart stopped. “No... it couldn't have—” Yasmine shoved me back down to the ground with everything she had. “It did!” She screamed, her voice cracking as a fresh wave of tears tracked through the dirt on her cheeks.

He suddenly transformed into a Sword Light and rushed toward Thea with a violent roar. Snap! Thea raised her hand and slapped the Sword Light away. The Waitara Path’s soul spirit emerged from the Sword Light again, angrily covering his face. “How dare you humiliate me?! Unforgivable!” The next moment, he burst out with Waltraud Power and instantly manifested tens of thousands of clones. Before the clones could attack, Thea thrust her palms forward, and the snow-white lotuses in the sky spun rapidly and swept toward them. The clones raised their heads, fear written all over their faces.

This was a great magical ability, involving distortion of the rules of space. The black-armored man had actually mastered such a wonderful technique? Or had he used some Precious Weapon? The Black Wolf Demon Emperor was shocked and realized that he was in trouble. However, the next moment, there was an irrepressible dragon roar in the air. A purplish ball of light wrapped around Ding Hao's arm. He had already punched out, his right fist cloaked in a halo of purple light. "Black Wolf Demon Claw!" With a fierce bellow, the Black Wolf Demon Emperor struck out his palm.

I was kneeling at the center of a circle. In my hand was a cold blade, made from obsidian bone. It had been sharpened from the spine of a creature that hadn’t walked this earth in over three thousand years. The handle fit perfectly in my grip, like it was always meant for me. Like this moment—this purpose—was written in my fate from the start. The elder witches of the Thirteenth Claw stood around me. Thirteen of them. They were ooded, faceless. They didn’t speak. They didn’t have to. Their presence alone made the air feel like it had been poisoned.

"This is my reclamation, Sheila. Let me go. Yet, guarantee me... you'll stop Rasha. Stop the ancient rarity. Save our pack." With the remainder of his solidarity, Farkas squeezed his temple to mine. At that time, I saw blazes of what he'd found. A dim, beating object. Rasha, her eyes sparkling with malicious power. Furthermore, behind everything, a shadow bigger than anything I'd at any point seen. "I guarantee," I said, my voice breaking. Farkas gestured once, then shut his eyes. "Much thanks to you," he murmured.

Click. The flash illuminated the grotesque scene, capturing every detail—the twisted limbs, the unnatural angle of the body, the dark, spreading blood. She adjusted her lens, focusing on the claw marks. There was something almost hypnotic about how they seemed to grow from the earth itself as if they had always been there. Click.

He rears back and sinks his teeth into Tarik’s throat, holding there, unrelenting. They thrash in the dirt, claws raking, snarls deafening. I crouch low, ready to leap in if Jorin falters, but he doesn’t. When he tears free, Tarik crumples in the ash. A final, ragged growl rattles from his chest before his body stills. Jorin staggers upright, his sides heaving, but his eyes find mine, sharp and defiant. He sways, and I move to him instantly, brushing my muzzle against his and pressing close as relief pours through me in dizzying waves. He’s alive, and so am I—for now.

But out of the shadows of the broken mirrors, a new signal flared—a white icon, cold and ancient. [SOURCE IDENTIFIED: THE THIRD PRIME] [STATUS: AWAKENED] [DIRECTIVE: HARVEST THE MOTHER] A massive, bone-white claw reached through the void, wrapping around my obsidian arm. The war for the soul had just found its final predator.

The symbols seemed to have extended. In Arerat, the tattoo was a butterfly in my palm and claw prints under it, down to below my wrist. But right now, it was extended down to the back of my elbow, just below my upper arm. The last pair of claw prints that lay in-between the upper arm and the lower arm began to glow warmly. I could feel a soul connection with it. It's the exact feeling I got when Little Wolfy gave me its blood essence from it's glabella to join the contract of beast and beast tamer. It was as if I just...