THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

A contemplative frown etched itself onto David's face as he stroked Luna's newly silver fur. The gentle brush of his hand seemed a stark contrast to the enormity of the question he posed. "So, let me understand this correctly, Luna," he began, his voice low and thoughtful.

"The moment your physical form ceases to exist, a portion of your memories are swept away?" Luna, still nestled comfortably in his lap, tilted her head in silent confirmation, a low rumble emanating from her chest. "Yes, Master," she rumbled, her voice echoing the concern etched on David's face.

For the past few hours, David had bombarded her with questions, hoping to glean some knowledge about the enigmatic Dimension Tower. Each answer, however, had been met with a frustrating blank. Luna's memories, once vast and powerful, were now fragmented, akin to a shattered mirror reflecting only glimpses of the past. "Hmm," David mused, the single syllable heavy with contemplation.

A dark thought slithered into his mind. Was this a deliberate failsafe, a cruel countermeasure against necromancers who might seek to exploit her power from beyond the grave? Or was the memory erasure a more fundamental safeguard, a way to shroud the secrets of the Dimension Tower in impenetrable darkness? Luna, sensing his turmoil, shifted slightly.

All she could offer was the barest outline of her past – a daughter of the moon goddess, Selena, and she was the fierce lord of beasts. A lineage steeped in power, but devoid of the specific knowledge David craved. David sighed, the sound heavy in the quiet room. The path forward seemed shrouded in a thick fog.

Luna, his formidable companion, was a wellspring of untapped potential, yet a wellspring with a dam at its source. His quest for knowledge had just become infinitely more complex. A reassuring hand came to rest on Luna's head, calming the tremor that had run through her massive form. "It's alright," David soothed, gently guiding her onto the plush bed. He rose, his movements purposeful.

It was time to delve into the mysteries his hard-earned free coupon held – the "Heaven Whispering Palm." Focusing his will, he replicated his action from earlier. With a subtle crackle, a swirling vortex of blue energy materialized before him. Luna's surprise was audible. "Master, what is that?" she rumbled, her voice thick with curiosity.

David, without tearing his gaze from the portal, reached out and plunged his hand into the swirling vortex. A moment later, he emerged, an ancient book clutched in his fingers. "This," he explained, gesturing to the book, "is my personal dimensional storage." Luna's head swivelled to follow his gesture, her golden eyes widening in disbelief.

She was a formidable fighter, a crazy battle junkie, but she wasn't stupid. "Master," she stammered, "can you store anything in there?" A mischievous smile played on David's lips. "Well, sort of," he conceded. "It depends on the amount of mana I have available. Looking at my stats right now, I'd say it could hold roughly the equivalent of several rooms." Luna felt a surge of vertigo.

This human, or whatever he truly was, pushed the boundaries of what she thought possible. Was he a god in disguise, a being that defied mortal limitations? The thought sent a shiver down her massive spine. Here she was, a legendary Fenrir, and yet, David, with his seemingly endless surprises, held the power to store entire rooms within an invisible space.

It was a power beyond anything she had ever encountered, a power that fueled a growing respect, and perhaps even a hint of fear, within her. David, with a flourish that wouldn't have been out of place in a tomb raider movie (though the book was remarkably clean), blew a dramatic puff of dust from its ancient cover. The air, surprisingly devoid of any actual dust motes, swirled around him.

He cracked the book open, anticipation buzzing in his veins. Within its worn pages lay the secrets of the "Heaven Whispering Palm." A single, shimmering window popped up within the book itself: "[You have learned a new technique]." "Well, that was easier than I expected," David scoffed, a smirk playing on his lips. But his triumph was short-lived.

An unseen force slammed into him, an iron fist squeezing the very air from his lungs. A gasp, caught in his constricted throat, turned into a choked gurgle. Crimson welled up at the corners of his mouth as he crumpled to the floor. "Master!" Luna bellowed, her voice echoing with fear and urgency. She scrambled to his side, her massive form dwarfed by David's sudden, horrifying stillness.

"Bloody hell!" David rasped, his voice a strangled whisper. Each word was a battle, fought against the crushing weight that threatened to extinguish him. "Luna," he choked out, a desperate plea in his eyes, "can you... silence me?" He couldn't risk anyone investigating his room, drawn by his agonized screams. Luna understood instantly. With a silent nod, she unleashed a power far exceeding David's own.

It wasn't Wolf's Grace, a technique he was just beginning to learn, but something deeper, wilder – a secret passed down through generations of Fenrir. A torrent of inky black liquid surged from Luna's form, engulfing both her and David in a suffocating darkness. The orb, opaque and impenetrable, blocked out any sound from escaping the room. Inside, however, David was suspended in a nightmare.

The crushing pressure intensified, each heartbeat a herculean effort. Luna's panicked cry echoed through the room, a stark contrast to the chilling silence she'd conjured moments before. "Master, Master, speak to me!" she pleaded, her voice thick with terror. Their bond, forged in the Soul Forge, resonated within her, amplifying David's agony as if it were her own.

Why, some might wonder, had a creature as powerful as a Fenrir gone from ferocious hunter to such a devoted guardian? The answer lay in the very essence of the forge. It hadn't just instilled obedience; it had woven their fates together, making Luna's well-being intrinsically tied to David's. A crimson haze tinged David's vision, his eyes mirroring the blood staining his lips.

The pain that had begun as a suffocating tightness had morphed into a tearing, agonizing sensation. His chest, once a steady cage for his lungs, now felt like a battlefield where an invisible enemy ripped and clawed. But within the inferno of pain, a flicker of understanding ignited. This wasn't just torture. It was a brutal baptism, a crucible that promised to reshape him.

It was the price he had to pay, the ordeal he had to endure to unlock the true power of the Heaven Whispering Palm. Gritting his teeth until they threatened to shatter, David refused to succumb. He clung to the knowledge, a lifeline in the storm. He had to hold on. This pain, excruciating as it was, was a temporary storm compared to the power it promised to unleash.

Luna, sensing his silent resolve, poured renewed strength into their shared darkness. She might not understand the intricacies of the technique he was attempting, but she understood the warrior's spirit within him. She would be his anchor, his shield against the encroaching oblivion, until the storm subsided and a new, stronger David emerged.

**** Miles away from the opulent confines of the De Gor estate, Gareth shivered in a dank, cobweb-strewn corridor. The air hung heavy with the stench of mildew and decay, a stark contrast to the perfumed halls he knew so well. Summoned back by his unseen masters, the puppet kingmakers who controlled the darkest corners of Aethelwarin's underbelly, Gareth stood at a crossroads.

His mission – a simple assassination cloaked in privilege – had failed spectacularly. Shame ate at him, as bitter as the grime clinging to the rough stone walls. He didn't need to be told what awaited him behind the unassuming, word-worn grey door. The "Fingers," as they were known in whispers, dealt swift and brutal justice to those who crossed them.

The iron thud of a fist against the door echoed his pounding heart. Gareth," a voice boomed, a deep, gravelly sound that sent tremors down his already trembling spine. Regret, a viper coiled tight in his gut, gnawed at him with venomous fury. He'd been a fool, dazzled by promises of wealth and power, a chance to finally escape the suffocating shadow cast by the De Gors.

All for eliminating a single, seemingly inconsequential boy. Now, as the heavy door creaked open a sliver, revealing a yawning abyss of darkness beyond, Gareth cursed himself tenfold. He should have taken matters into his own hands, ensured David's demise with his own eyes. Instead, he'd gambled on a fool's errand, outsourcing the dirty work to a band of incompetent mercenaries.

The weight of his stupidity pressed down on him, a suffocating cloak threatening to steal his breath. Gareth, the would-be viper, stood on the precipice of becoming prey. The darkness beyond the doorway beckoned, a monstrous maw ready to swallow him whole. He squeezed his eyes shut, a silent prayer escaping his lips – a prayer for a swift end, a mercy he knew was unlikely to be granted.

**** A/N Thanks so much for sticking with me and David's journey this far. Your support means the world! If you have any questions or thoughts, please leave a comment below – I love hearing from you all, and remember to gimme your powerstones For those of you absolutely hooked on the story, get ready for some exciting updates coming soon! Happy reading!

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