Wolfen Crest!

Chapter 18: An Unexpected Cry!

The beast, thrashing and snapping its jaws, tried relentlessly to tear into the man holding it down. It swung its claws in wild, frenzied arcs, each swipe slicing the air with a deadly hiss. But the man remained steady, his grip like iron as he held the beast down with one hand, almost effortlessly. He looked down at the snarling creature with an expression that was somehow both stern and sympathetic, his eyes no longer glowing.

"Be still," he commanded. He raised his right fist, and, with a swift, precise motion, brought it down on the beast's head. The impact was explosive, sending a shockwave through the ground that caused dust and dirt to fly up in a thick cloud around them.

The blow launched the creature upward, its body twisting as it was knocked clean off the ground. It crashed back down with a heavy thud, the earth cracking beneath it. As it began to rise, a guttural growl rumbled deep in its throat, and its head slowly lifted from the broken ground. Blood dripped from its mangled face, and its jaw hung slack, clearly dislocated and broken.

The man stood a few paces back, his fists clenched and ready, but he paused, watching as the beast's jaw began to snap back into place, bone and tissue knitting themselves together. A slight smirk played across the man's face.

Without hesitation, he lunged forward.
His fists moved with blinding speed, each punch landing with brutal precision. He struck the creature's stomach five times in quick succession, the power of each blow rippling through the air. The beast was hurled backward, its body crashing through tree after tree, the sound of splintering wood echoing through the forest. It finally came to a stop, buried in a mess of broken branches and debris, several feet away.

Hazel, watching with her arms crossed and her injuries already healed, gave a small nod, her confidence in her father unwavering. He was the leader of the Ultrnaya—a powerful werewolf tribe known for its warriors' resilience and unmatched strength. She knew his fists were as hard as steel, if not harder. There was no way any Kurobane could survive an assault like that.

"It's done," she murmured, certain the battle had ended.

But then, through the thick haze of dust and smoke created by the impact, a dark shape began to shift. Hazel's eyes widened as she made out the figure of the beast, still standing. Its body was battered and broken, its frame twisted unnaturally, yet it was slowly, defiantly, forcing itself back to its feet.

"This... this is Leyton's first transformation," Hazel whispered, awe creeping into her voice. "He isn't supposed to be this strong yet."

Hazel's father narrowed his gaze, his smirk fading into a look of cold determination. "I admire your resilience, abomination," he said, his eyes blazing a brilliant yellow. "But if you won't stay down, you'll leave me no choice but to obliterate your entire body." His hands began to transform, claws extending from his fingers as thick brown fur grew over his hands and wrists, readying him for a final assault.

The beast, still on its knees, glared forward, defiance gleaming in its yellow eyes even as blood dripped from its battered form. Its chest rose and fell heavily, yet there was no hint of surrender. Only rage.

"Your regeneration is impressive," Hazel's father continued, his voice low and unyielding. "But there is a limit, and you, as a beta, have one too." His voice grew softer, almost pitying. "It would seem you're nearing that limit."

The beast responded with a deep, guttural growl. It pressed its claws into the ground, forcing itself to rise, each movement labored but unbroken. Its legs trembled under its weight, yet still, it stood.

The man's fists clenched tighter. "You refuse to give up. Very well." Without hesitation, he charged forward, his every step filled with purpose. He had decided-this would end here, one way or another.

But just as he closed in, a desperate cry pierced the night.

"Stop!"

The echo of the shout rang through the forest, startling both Hazel and her father, who halted, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. Even the beast stilled, its snarls softening as it looked toward the sound.

Standing near the edge of the trees was a young boy with short blond hair, bent over and panting heavily, fear stark in his wide eyes. He wore a gray hoodie that was torn and dirt-streaked, as if he'd been running for miles without stopping.
"Charlie," Hazel breathed, a look of alarm flashing across her face. She hadn't expected him to come looking for Leyton, let alone to reach this place.

But there he stood, alone, his chest heaving as he stared at the terrifying scene in front of him. "Uh hi."
***

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