As the invader landed, his boots struck the floor with a dull thud, sending cracks skittering across the tiles. His smirk was a razor's edge, sharp and full of disdain. Cold eyes flicked over the four chosen ones, measuring them like prey trapped in a hunter's sights.

  "I was told the Protectors of Zephyros were fearless warriors, never ones to back down from a fight." His voice dripped with mockery as he stepped forward, boots cracking the damaged tiles beneath him. The smirk on his face twisted into something cruel.

  "But what stands before me? Four shaking would-be saviors?" His gaze dragged across the floor like a blade, each word a deliberate cut. "And the fifth?" A slow turn toward the ruined stairwell. "Vanished. Fled before the blood even spilled. Clever, really. At least one of you understands when to bow."

  Thorne scoffed, stepping forward, arms folding loosely across his chest. "Yeah? He didn't run." His lip curled into a slow, knowing grin. "He's just out prepping your funeral pyre. Would've sent him a thank-you note, but figured you'd be too dead to read it."

  Alice flicked her wrist, the face of the watch in her hand catching the light with a cold gleam. "You're really proud of that entrance, huh? Shame it'll be the most impressive thing you do today."

  Lyric arched a brow, voice calm but laced with edge. "You mistake patience for fear. We didn't run—we chose the ground where you'd fall. And now, you're standing on it."

  The invader’s boots pounded against the floor, each step a thunderous beat that rattled the shattered mall. New fractures spidered outward beneath him as he sneered.

  "Then let's see who falls first." He hissed. "I'll tear you down, one by one. And when your corpses hit the dirt, I'll make sure the rest of your kinds watch. Let them see how fragile their so-called Protectors really are. Let them learn—this world now bends to us."

  A brief silence followed before Elias stepped forward.

  "We're not just Protectors of this realm," he said, voice steady and sharp. "We're the line you don't cross. You thought we'd fall easily. That we'd scatter like ash."

  He moved closer, gaze locked with the invader's. "We don't know who sent you, but what you're coming for will never happen. Because we're not the ones who should be afraid. You are. Zephyros doesn't kneel, and neither do we."

  The invader's expression darkened, his smirk faltering for the first time.

  Without another word, they launched into battle. The tension snapped like a bowstring, unleashing chaos.

  Thorne lunged first, fists flying, his knuckles aiming straight for the invader's face. The man tilted his head slightly, dodging with chilling ease before seizing Thorne's arm mid-swing. He yanked him forward, then drove a brutal knee into his stomach. Thorne buckled, but before he could hit the ground, Alice came in low, sliding across the floor and swinging her leg into the invader's shin.

  He didn't even flinch.

  She tried to follow up, but he caught her by the collar, hoisting her off the floor and slamming her back-first into a pillar with a grunt that echoed.

  Lyric darted in next, quick and nimble, aiming a punch for his throat. He blocked it cleanly, caught her wrist, twisted, and with a jerk, sent her flying sideways. She crashed into a half-collapsed bench with a pained gasp.

  Elias drove forward with all his weight, slamming into the invader like a battering ram. It worked for a second. The man stumbled back a step, his heel cracking the tile beneath.

  Then he retaliated.

  A solid punch to Elias's jaw sent him spinning. Thorne tried to grab the invader from behind, but the man shrugged him off like a coat, flipping him over his shoulder. He hit the ground hard.

  Alice, coughing, climbed to her feet again. "Still not... impressed."

  She swung, a clean hit to the jaw. The invader's head jerked and slowly turned back to her, a grin spreading across his face.

  

  "You're all bones and bravado."

  He ducked, grabbed her by the waist, and tossed her across the floor like she weighed nothing.

  "Great," Thorne muttered, struggling to rise. "So this is how we're doing it, huh?"

  Lyric spat blood onto the floor. "Yeah, because that went so well."

  Elias steadied himself, chest heaving. "We're not done yet."

  The invader rolled his neck, cracking it to one side. "You should've stayed down."

  He moved again, faster now, a blur of punches and dodges. A hook slammed into Thorne's ribs. An elbow caught Lyric in the back. Alice darted in from the side, aiming for his flank, but he twisted, caught her arm, and slammed her down into a ruthless hold.

  Snarling, Elias surged forward and caught the invader off guard with a fierce kick to the chest. The man flew backward, skidding across the floor and crashing into a broken display.

  Elias straightened, chest heaving, eyes locked. "We're not letting you win that easily."

  Lyric stepped beside him, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah? It'll take more than flashy footwork and brooding vibes to scare us off."

  The invader rose slowly, brushing debris from his coat. His hand moved behind his back, unhooking a small, unimpressive blade from his belt. With one flick, it twisted, unraveled, and reshaped itself.

  The dagger morphed into a chain of blackened iron once more, electric-red energy pulsing through its links. It writhed in his grasp like a serpent eager to strike.

  Thorne squinted at it, deadpan. "Oh, great. The murder noodle returns."

  He winced, still clutching his ribs. "Because you clearly can't win without your little spark whip."

  Above them, beyond the ruined concourse and shattered glass, silence coiled like a waiting threat.

  Hidden within the shadows of the store on the second floor, Fenrik crouched low. His golden eyes glinted in the dim light, ears twitching at every distant crash, every strained breath that reached him. Inside the beast's mind, Aiden stirred, feeling the tension thrumming through their shared form.

  We shouldn't interfere, Fenrik muttered, voice low and conflicted. This... this isn't our fight.

  Aiden's presence surged, frustration crackling through their bond like a spark in dry leaves. Isn't our fight? If they fall out there while we cower in here, if something happens to them, can you live with that?

  Fenrik's claws dragged against the stone floor. Still, silence.

  Aiden's voice came again, firmer now, pulsing with grit and pain. Everyone's always looked at us like we're nothing. Weak. A runt. An embarrassment to the Alpha's bloodline.

  A growl curled in Fenrik's throat, but Aiden didn't stop.

  Even Father believes we're not worthy. Not strong enough. Not fit to lead. A pause. But we are Alpha blood, Fenrik. We are. And it's time they see it.

  Fenrik's eyes narrowed. His breath came heavy. What if we're wrong? he murmured. What if they were right about us?

  No, Aiden said, unwavering. They're wrong. All of them. This is our moment. Our fight. We were chosen too. We bleed like the rest. We fight like the rest. And we will rise like the rest.

  Fenrik was still for a long second. Then he slowly exhaled, a deep and steady breath that shook loose the weight coiled in his chest.

  You're stubborn, he said in a low voice, his words tinged with reluctant pride. But maybe you're right.

  Aiden smirked through their bond. We're not backing down. Not today.

  Fenrik straightened, fire in his golden eyes and steel in his stance. Then let's show them what Alpha blood really means.

  They burst from the store and charged toward the fight, two halves, one heart, and no more fear.

  The battle continued, relentless. The four fought with everything they had, but the invader was relentless, shrugging off blows as if they were nothing.

  The invader tore through the mall like a living tempest, his chain of blackened iron howling through the air with each crack. It was alight with jagged arcs of electric-red fury, leaving trails of scorched earth in its wake. Every strike struck the floor, the walls, and the unfortunate bodies that got too close, each impact a violent flash of destruction.

  Elias surged forward with the others, their movements synchronized as they pressed the attack. But before any of them could land a blow, the chain lashed out in a blur of motion. It struck Elias first, wrapping around his arm and flinging him across the room like a ragdoll. He crashed into a vending machine, metal screeching and glass shattering. Thorne was next, rushing in with a snarl. The chain wrapped around his ankle mid-sprint, sending him tumbling to the floor with a sharp crack. Before he could recover, the chain struck again, slamming into his chest with brutal force.

  Lyric and Alice pressed forward, their focus on the invader, but the chain didn't relent. Lyric barely dodged the first swing, only to be caught in the ribs by the second, lifting her off her feet and sending her tumbling across the floor. Alice was at her side in an instant, but the invader's chain whistled through the air again, catching Alice square in the back. She cried out, her body jerking from the blow before she collapsed beside Lyric in a heap.

  They fought as one, but the invader’s unyielding chain kept them off balance, each strike faster than the last, each blow leaving more damage, more blood. And with every wound they inflicted on him, every cut that spilled his blood, he grew stronger—more ferocious. His bleeding form pulsed with renewed energy, his power swelling with each strike.

  One by one, they fell—hard.

  Bleeding. Groaning. Refusing to yield. But hopelessly outmatched.

  The invader stood tall, cold eyes sweeping over the carnage. The chain slithered back into his hand, humming like it was eager for more. He rolled his neck, unimpressed.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  "I've wasted enough time on this," he said, voice flat, almost bored. "Now... let's end this little story."

  Glass crunched beneath the invader's boots as he strode toward Elias, who struggled to push himself upright. Blood stained his teeth, and the tremble in his limbs made it hard to stay steady. The invader’s brutal toss replayed in his mind, a harsh reminder of just how easily he had been thrown aside, like a discarded puppet.

  This is who I am, Elias thought bitterly, weak, fragile. I’m nothing like them.

  He couldn't help but think of the other vampires—their power, their confidence, their presence. They would’ve never been tossed aside like that. They would’ve fought back, stood their ground, crushed that invader in an instant. But not me. I’m a joke.

  The others lay scattered around him, burned, battered, breathless. Elias' chest tightened as his mind raced. If they had their abilities... this fight wouldn't have lasted this long.

  He looked at Thorne, his body crumpled but still alive, and thought, If only Thorne could transform into his dragon form... He imagined the towering presence of Thorne, unstoppable and fierce. This fight would have ended before it even started.

  His gaze shifted to Alice, struggling to push herself up. He couldn't help but wish, If Alice had her full power, she’d have already cast a spell to break that chain. He could almost see her weaving her magic, the invader powerless against her will. But now, she was just as vulnerable as the rest of them.

  Lyric barely moved, her breaths shallow and strained. If only she had her fae strength, Elias thought. The invader wouldn’t have stood a chance. Lyric’s magic could have turned the tide in an instant

  And then Aiden, the wolf who had always felt like the weakest among them. Elias thought, If his wolf form was as powerful as the others... He could see it now, Aiden's wolf form—massive, fierce, and unstoppable. He wouldn’t have been thrown aside like that. He would’ve fought, not run. He would’ve protected others, not been tossed like a child.

  Elias' heart twisted in frustration, guilt gnawing at him. Why were we chosen as the protectors of this world if we can’t even stand in a fight like this? They were supposed to be powerful, destined for something great, but all they could do was watch as they were torn apart. This isn’t what we were meant to be.

  Above, Cassandra's hands were clenched into fists against the railing.

  "Sir... please," she whispered urgently. "They're not going to survive this. We have to do something."

  Sentinel's gaze tracked the invader's path. His jaw was tight. "I didn't think it would spiral this far."

  Within him, the dragon stirred.

  He is chaos unbridled, Vaelthar growled, fire threading his voice. He brings imbalance. Let us act. Before your inaction becomes their undoing.

  Sentinel nodded once. "We move on my signal—"

  But then the building groaned. A subtle tremor rippled through the ground, shaking the dust from cracked beams.

  Cassandra blinked. "Was that... was that an earthquake?"

  Sentinel's head snapped down. His gaze found the second-floor walkway and froze.

  Fenrik stood there, utterly still.

  Golden eyes locked onto the battlefield below, not the destruction, not the enemy, but his team. His friends.

  Sentinel's breath caught. Did he just...

  The ground trembled again, sharper this time. Below, Elias groaned, lifting his head. Lyric's eyes fluttered open. Thorne and Alice stiffened.

  "What... was that?" Alice croaked, eyes wide as she looked at the others. "An earthquake?"

  Thorne slowly pushed himself up on one arm, wincing. "Great. That was the only problem we hadn't dealt with yet."

  They all shared the same expression: bloodied, bruised, breathless. But now, it was laced with something new. Confusion.

  Even the invader halted mid-step. His weapon lowered slightly as he glanced around the shattered mall floor, his brow furrowed.

  Inside Fenrik's mind, Aiden's voice echoed. This is on us. If we had stayed with them, if we hadn't hesitated, they might've stood a chance.

  Fenrik didn’t answer. His claws curled inward, dragging hard against the floor beneath him. Concrete cracked. His breath came in harsh bursts, chest rising and falling like a furnace about to blow. His golden eyes swept over the battlefield.

  Elias, struggling to push himself up. Thorne, coughing through clenched teeth. Lyric, eyes half-closed in pain. Alice, trembling but still reaching for the others.

  Fenrik’s body trembled, not from fear, but from the violent storm that churned inside him. Rage. Guilt. A silent vow that this wasn’t how it was meant to end. Another tremor struck—sharp, sudden, and violent.

  Dust cascaded from the ceiling, as if the very foundation of the mall groaned under the weight of his fury.

  He had no idea. He had no idea that with every tremor, the entire mall was shuddering beneath him, the walls cracking, the ground buckling. His focus was locked entirely on the first floor, on the invader, and on the way the bastard slowly stalked toward Elias.

  Then he moved.

  In a blink, Fenrik exploded forward, launching from the second floor like a comet. The air split around him. Dust spiraled. He slammed into the ground between Elias and the invader, landing with a seismic crack that split the tiles beneath him.

  The dust coiled and writhed across the jagged floor, twisting around shattered tiles and splintered beams. The sudden appearance of Fenrik between Elias and the invader left everyone frozen.

  Elias blinked, shock flashing across his face before a wave of relief followed. Thorne’s eyes widened in disbelief, Alice’s lips curled into a small smile, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten. Lyric’s face softened with a brief, relieved smile, the tension easing slightly in her posture.

  Amid the haze, the invader's gaze settled on the wolf crouched in the wreckage, small and motionless, shadowed in grime and ash.

  A smile curled at the corner of his mouth, the kind that never reached the eyes. He took a slow step forward, the end of his chain scraping against floor. His voice followed, flat and cold, laced with venom.

  "Well. Look who found the courage to crawl back," he sneered, his gaze flicking over Fenrik with disdain. "You’re nothing but a pathetic pup, pretending to be something you're not."

  His boots crunched over debris as he advanced, dragging the weight of his weapon behind him like a threat made tangible. "You watched them fall. Stood back while they bled. And now you stand alone, as if this time—what? You'll rewrite it?"

  Another step. A sneer. The chain coiled behind him like it knew what was coming.

  "You had your chance. Now it’s too late."

  Fenrik remained unmoved. His fur bristled, but not with hesitation. His breath was steady, his stance unwavering. His paws pressed into the shattered floor, grounding him as though his very resolve was tied to the earth beneath him.

  A growl began to build in his chest. Not loud. Not showy. A low vibration that buzzed in the bones, like a tremor before the quake. His eyes never left the invader's, even as the man's expression shifted, subtle now, more calculating than mocking.

  Deep beneath the surface of the wolf's mind, a voice answered, not in words spoken aloud, but in conviction sharpened to a blade's edge.

  They'd run before. They'd doubted. Hesitated.

  But not now.

  The chain whipped through the air, its arc sudden and vicious.

  It met only air.

  Fenrik moved in a blur, his body a streak of lightning, dodging the chain’s deadly swing with an agility that defied the invader’s speed.

  Aiden's voice echoed inside Fenrik's mind, fierce and unwavering. Let’s show him and everyone who doubted us—who we really are. Let’s show them we’re not weak. We’re Alpha blood. It's time they see what we're truly made of.

  Fenrik moved like breath slipping through a crack in the door: fluid, silent, unstoppable. One moment crouched, the next streaking through the wreckage with impossible speed, zigzagging between the rubble with a dancer's rhythm and a predator's focus. The chain lashed again, a blur of steel and force, but it passed harmlessly through where he'd been half a breath ago.

  Claws scraped against the floor, sending sparks across stone as he redirected mid-run. His body twisted beneath a collapsing beam, rebounded off a broken pillar, then launched forward. The invader turned just in time to feel the sting, claws slicing across the side of his thigh, leaving a jagged mark in their wake. No pause. No warning.

  The wolf was already gone.

  A streak. A flicker. His momentum never faltered, not even as another lash sliced through the air behind him, narrowly missing the tip of his tail.

  The invader's lips peeled back into a snarl. Another chain strike, wider this time, meant to trap rather than hit. Fenrik ducked, then rebounded low, closing distance again. His fangs snapped inches from the invader's forearm before he blurred away once more.

  There was a sharp grunt, small but unmistakable. The kind that slipped past pride when pain finally found its mark. Blood welled along a fresh cut near the invader's shoulder.

  The man's movements grew tighter. Not slower, not yet. Wary. Calculated. His eyes tracked the shadows now, not the wolf.

  Fenrik circled with silent precision, steps light, breath measured. Dust swirled around him in the wake of his own speed, forming a storm no chain could catch.

  Across the battlefield, the others stirred.

  Thorne raised his gaze first, brow furrowed as he watched Fenrik’s movements. They weren’t reckless but precise, each step deliberate. "His size... it’s not a disadvantage. He’s faster than the other wolves, using speed to control the fight.

  Beside him, Lyric blinked hard, forcing vision into focus through the haze and ache. "He's making him react."

  Elias braced himself on one elbow, dirt smeared across his cheek. He exhaled, sharp and short. "Didn't know he had that in him."

  Alice pressed a palm against the floor, forcing herself upright inch by inch. She didn't speak but her eyes never left the shadow that refused to stop moving.

  High above the shattered mall, Sentinel stood motionless, his cloak stirring faintly in the rising wind. From his vantage point on the fractured balcony, he observed every movement with a measured, unblinking stare. Below, Fenrik was no longer the uncertain presence he had once been. He moved with purpose now, with clarity that cut through the chaos like a blade. Each dodge, each calculated lunge, showed not fear, but fierce intent.

  Cassandra stood beside him, her gaze sharp, her posture tense as she leaned forward over the crumbling ledge. Her voice broke the silence, quiet but filled with something close to awe. "He's not afraid anymore."

  Sentinel gave a slight nod, his gaze fixed on the chaos below. Fenrik’s movements were a blur, fluid and precise. He dodged the invader’s strikes with the kind of agility only his small size could provide, slipping past attacks like a shadow.

  "I've seen werewolves fight," Cassandra continued, her tone low and focused. "Trained ones. Even among the elite packs, I've never seen speed like that. He's doing more than reacting. He's reading every strike before it lands."

  Sentinel tilted his head slightly as Fenrik twisted through another narrow gap between falling debris and a sweeping chain, then struck cleanly before vanishing back into the blur of motion.

  "He’s not relying on brute force," Sentinel observed, his voice growing more certain. "It’s something deeper—control, resolve. He’s starting to believe in it now, discovering just how much strength lies within him."

  For a moment, he went quiet again, though the look in his eyes shifted. The way Fenrik moved, the defiance in his every step, the balance between instinct and precision. It felt familiar.

  A thought stirred within him, slow and unbidden.

  This was not the first time he had seen that kind of movement.

  It reminded him of Lyra. And her bonded wolf, Velra.

  The memory of her came like a whisper in the dark, cloaked in the glow of old battles and sharper days. Velra had been a creature of dusk and fire, silent and swift, her steps always in rhythm with Lyra's will. They had fought as one, seamless and unyielding. He remembered watching them once, just as he was watching Fenrik now.

  Within him, Vaelthar stirred, that ancient echo woven into the marrow of his being.

  She was like this, the voice said, deep and quiet. Lyra and Velra. Their bond shaped them into something more. I see it again in this one.

  Sentinel's gaze remained fixed on Fenrik. Blood now streaked the invader's arm, the first sign of faltering in his composure. Fenrik circled again, never lingering in one place, a flicker of shadow in a broken world.

  "He reminds me of them," Sentinel said finally, his voice almost a murmur. "Of what Lyra once was. Of what she still could be."

  Cassandra glanced at him with a questioning look but said nothing. Her attention soon returned to the battle, her eyes narrowing as the tide began to shift, slowly but unmistakably.

  "He might be the one to turn this," she said quietly.

  Sentinel didn't reply. But in the way he stood, in the way his hands tightened behind his back, it was clear he was thinking the same thing

  The clash echoed through the mall's atrium as Fenrik lunged forward, a blur of dark fur and raw fury. The invader swung his blackened iron chain with deadly precision, but Fenrik was faster.

  With a guttural snarl, he ducked beneath the strike, drove his full weight into the attacker, and launched him backward.

  The invader crashed through the glass doors of a boutique, vanishing into a storm of shattering crystal and mannequins. A blaring alarm filled the air as the storefront crumbled in a mess of glass and metal.

  As the dust settled, the chain clattered across the tiles, slipping from the invader's hand mid-air. It slid to a halt outside the store, then began to move.

  The links writhed like a living thing, coiling inward. In the span of a heartbeat, it shifted, reassembling itself into a gleaming formation of small, curved blades, each one humming with dark energy. It pulsed faintly, like it remembered battle.

  Fenrik stood tall amid the chaos, his form rising like a beast unchained. Blood smeared his muzzle, but it was his eyes, blazing silver, that commanded the space around him.

  Then Aiden's voice rang inside Fenrik's mind, full of pride. Yes, we did it! I knew you could do it, Fenrik! You just need to believe in yourself.

  Fenrik's heart surged. The words fueled something deep within him, a sense of strength and fierce connection. His body thrummed with the weight of it. He wasn't just fighting; he was becoming.

  Then he threw his head back and howled.

  Not a cry of pain. Not of fear or fury.

  But something older.

  It rolled through the mall like a storm breaking, rattling glass, killing alarms mid-scream, sending shudders through polished stone. It hit every wall, every floor, echoing like the ghost of something long buried.

  From the upper level, where broken railings overlooked the battlefield below, Sentinel went still. His body tensed, eyes widening as the sound struck him like a memory reborn.

  That howl. It wasn’t just Fenrik’s, there was something else beneath it, something ancient. In its wake, he heard another voice, faint but resonant, layered within the cry. Velra’s howl, as if it had clawed its way back from the void.

  Sentinel’s expression cracked. Shock. Recognition. Then reverence.

  Velra stirs...

  He whispered her name, not in disbelief but in awe. This wasn’t mere instinct. This was legacy, awakening in flesh and fury.