Chapter 321
The forest became a war zone of blood, magic, and primal fury. Fenris moved with a combination of werewolf instinct and hard-earned fighting skills, each movement a calculated dance of survival. The engineered werewolves weren't just opponents—they were something entirely different. Tactical. Precise. Augmented.
Lyra's magic crackled around her like living lightning. She wasn't just defending—she was fighting with a fury that matched Fenris's own. Magical barriers transformed into offensive weapons, roots and vines becoming razor-sharp extensions of her will.
The lead engineered werewolf—the one with surgical scars and a coldly calculated approach—locked eyes with Fenris. "You're a relic," he said. "An old model. Inefficient."
Fenris responded with a growl that was part words, part pure animal rage. "I'm pure," he snarled. "You're a science experiment."
Another tactical werewolf lunged. Fenris caught it mid-air, his massive wolf form twisting to slam the attacker into a massive pine tree. The impact split bark, sent splinters flying. But the engineered werewolf was already moving, already recovering—healing faster than should be possible.
Lyra's magic found a new level of intensity. The forest responded to her fury—trees bending, shadows twisting, magical energy creating a battlefield that was alive and responsive. She caught two attacking werewolves in a magical vortex that crushed and burned simultaneously.
"They're not natural!" she shouted to Fenris. Her voice was a combination of magical resonance and pure fury. "These aren't werewolves. They're weapons!"
A metallic glint caught Fenris's eye—an implant visible beneath the skin of one of the attacking werewolves. Technological augmentations that went beyond natural transformation. These weren't just enhanced wolves. They were something else entirely.
The lead engineered werewolf moved with impossible precision. Each attack was a calculated strike, each defensive movement a perfect tactical response. He wasn't fighting like an animal. He was fighting like a machine.
"Who created you?" Fenris demanded, blocking a strike that would have torn through ordinary flesh.
The response was chilling in its simplicity. "Progress," the engineered werewolf said. "Evolution doesn't happen by accident."
More werewolves emerged from the shadows. This wasn't just an attack. This was an invasion. A statement. A challenge to everything Fenris understood about his own nature.
Lyra's magical energy reached a crescendo. The forest floor became a living weapon—magical energy and werewolf fury creating a war zone that defied natural law. Trees became shields. Roots became traps. Magic and primal fury danced a deadly dance.
Blood mixed with magical energy. The ground became a canvas of destruction and transformation.
The lead werewolf's eyes held something beyond animal fury. Something calculated. Something planned.
"We are the next stage," he said.
Fenris felt something deep in his wolf consciousness. A challenge. A threat. Something that went beyond a simple fight for survival.
A tactical werewolf broke through Lyra's magical defenses. She spun, magical energy erupting from her hands—but the engineered werewolf was already moving, already attacking.
Fenris saw it happening in slow motion.
He wouldn't reach her in time.
The engineered werewolf's claws were inches from Lyra's face.
Everything stopped.
For one moment, the entire forest held its breath.
Something was about to change.
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