Chapter 319
The forest held its breath. Fenris's werewolf form stood perfectly still, muscles coiled like steel cables, every sense hyperalert. Lyra stood beside him, her magical energy crackling with an intensity that made the air around her shimmer.
Something was hunting them.
Not just an ordinary predator. This was different. Something that moved with purpose, with intention. Something that felt... familiar.
A low sound emerged from the darkness. Not quite a growl. Not quite a whisper. Something in between.
"We're being stalked," Fenris muttered, his wolf-voice a deep rumble that seemed to vibrate through the trees.
Lyra's hand traced a protective sigil in the air. Ancient magical symbols flickered briefly, leaving trails of blue-white energy. "I know," she responded. "But this isn't random. This feels deliberate."
The forest seemed to close in around them. Trees that moments ago had seemed simply ancient now felt like witnesses. Sentinels. Watching.
A shadow moved between the trees. Too quick to be fully seen. But definitely there.
Fenris's ears twitched. His heightened hearing caught something—a heartbeat. No. Multiple heartbeats. Synchronized. Controlled.
"Werewolves," he growled. "But not like me. Something different."
Lyra's magical perception extended, probing the darkness. "Not just werewolves," she corrected. "Something more organized. A pack. But not a natural pack."
The first attacker emerged from the shadows.
Sleek. Muscular. But moving with a precision that suggested more than animal intelligence. This was a predator that hunted with strategy. With purpose.
More shadows followed. A coordinated movement that suggested military-like discipline.
"They're not wild," Fenris said, his wolf form tensing. "They're trained."
The lead werewolf stepped forward. Male. Tall. Muscles rippling with a controlled power that spoke of deliberate conditioning. His eyes—amber, intense—locked directly on Fenris.
"We've been looking for you," the lead werewolf spoke. His voice was calm. Controlled. Nothing like the wild howl Fenris expected.
Lyra's magical defenses rose another level. The herbs at her belt began to emit a soft, pulsing light. Protective wards. Ancient magic preparing for conflict.
"Who are you?" Fenris demanded.
The lead werewolf smiled. A human expression on an inhuman face. "We are what comes next," he said. "A new evolution of the species."
Behind him, the other werewolves moved with perfect synchronization. Not a pack. Not a group. A unit. Something engineered. Something created.
"You're not natural werewolves," Lyra said. It wasn't a question.
The lead werewolf's smile didn't change. "We are what happens when science meets nature. When evolution is... guided."
Fenris felt something deep in his wolf consciousness. A recognition. These weren't just werewolves. They were something else. Something constructed.
"Who sent you?" he growled.
"Progress," the lead werewolf responded. "Evolution. The next stage."
Lyra's magical energy surged. The forest around them began to respond—trees creaking, shadows shifting, the very environment preparing for conflict.
"We're not interested in your plans," she said, her voice sharp as a blade.
The lead werewolf took another step forward. Controlled. Deliberate.
"You don't have a choice," he said.
And then they attacked.
The forest erupted into chaos.
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