Published at 20th of January 2026 8:27 am

Chapter 1693 The Lunar Pulse

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The moment the system message flickered across Gary’s vision, the very air in the cavern underwent a violent, almost tectonic shift. They were deep underground, shielded by tons of earth and the ancient, magic-soaked stones of the Red Wing Kingdom’s foundation, yet the moon’s presence was felt as a physical, crushing weight. It wasn't just light; it was a gravitational pull on the soul.

It began as a pulse from within, a deep, rhythmic thrumming of the heart that suddenly accelerated. Blood, thick and hot, began to push through the others veins with a force that felt like liquid fire. He could hear it in the ears of every werewolf in the room: the frantic thump-thump of hearts reaching a fever pitch.

The sounds of them groaning twisted into guttural, metallic shrieks of agony that bounced off the jagged cavern walls. It was a cacophony of primal terror, the sound of bone snapping and reformulating into something predatory.

Werewolves who had been calm, resigned to their fate only seconds ago, were now arching their backs with such violence that their spines threatened to pierce through their skin.

Jack, pinned to the center of the wall by his heavy shackles, felt the surge. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird.

The three of them were right, Jack thought, his jaw clenching so hard he could feel his teeth grinding against one another. There’s an urge inside me... a hunger that feels like a void. I want to move. I want to rip the metal from these walls and taste the cold air above maybe more.

Jack possessed a veteran’s iron willpower, a mental fortress built over years of leadership. He refused to let the beast take the reins, forcing his breathing into a slow, measured rhythm despite the sweat pouring down his face. But as he looked around, he realized with a sinking heart that his pack did not share his discipline. They didn't have the years of war to temper their blood.

Several people nearby had already fallen to their knees, despite being chained. The transformation was starting at the extremities. Coarse, wire-like fur sprouted from their knuckles; muscles expanded with sickening, wet pops as the "Human" form was discarded like an old suit. Their entire skeletal structures were shifting, legs breaking and resetting into the digitigrade stance of a wolf.

“What is happening?!” Jack shouted, his voice barely audible over the roar of the cavern. “We all exhausted ourselves! We spent the day in the training pits until we couldn't stand! We fasted! We did everything! How are some transforming?!”

In Jack’s pack, there were more non-combatants than warriors, ordinary people who lived daily lives as bakers, smiths, and laborers. They were the heartbeat of the Red Wing Kingdom, but they weren't fighters.

They were in debt to Jack and followed his orders to come to the dungeon, but many of them simply hadn't believed the danger was real. They had never shifted on a festival night before. Why would tonight be any different? Many had cheated. Those who couldn't bear the gnawing hunger of the fast had eaten in secret, sneaking scraps of dried meat, putting on a front of exhaustion while their bellies were full of the very energy the moon now used to fuel their metamorphosis.

Even the fighters had miscalculated. Without a System interface like Gary’s to track their exact [Energy] levels, they had stopped their training when they "felt" tired. They didn't realize that a werewolf's body is a battery of immense capacity; they still had a reservoir of primal power deep within that they hadn't even touched.

The chains began to scream, a high-pitched, metallic protest. The enchanted spikes that the kingdom's mages had driven into the rock began to groan. These spikes were designed to hold beasts. As the newly transformed monsters lunged forward, the spikes began to slide out of the ancient rock, centimeter by centimeter, leaving trails of grey dust.

“LUPUS!” Gary’s voice cut through the chaos, amplified by his returned stats.

“I know!” Lupus roared back.

He tapped into his newly unsuppressed power and willingly triggered his partial transformation. His biceps swelled, the fur bristling with a dark, healthy sheen as his strength peaked. With a sharp, explosive burst of tension, he flexed.

SNAP.

The metal cuff around his right wrist stretched, the metal groaning before it shattered. He didn't stop, tearing the other shackles free and ripping the heavy collar from his neck in one fluid motion. The heavy beast-chains clattered uselessly to the floor, sparking against the stone.

Two werewolves nearby had already ripped their anchors completely out of the wall. They were no longer the peaceful citizens Jack knew; they were hulking, tall slavering monsters with eyes glowing a predatory, madness. They didn't even look back at their comrades; they sprinted toward the tunnel exit, driven by the need to kill.

Gary and Lupus moved as twin streaks of shadow. Their speed, now completely unsuppressed, was staggering to the naked eye. In a heartbeat, they crossed the fifty-meter gap. They leaped simultaneously, their silhouettes momentarily blotting out the dim torchlight.

They caught the escaping werewolves by their skulls mid-stride.

CRUNCH.

The floor beneath them shattered into a spiderweb of deep cracks as Gary and Lupus slammed the beasts' heads into the dirt. The impact was heavy enough to send a visible shockwave through the room, momentarily stunning the other wolves who were still struggling with their chains.

As the dust settled, the two stood tall. Gary’s fur was a rugged earthy brown, while Lupus’s was black. They radiated an aura of dominance, an Alpha-level pressure, that made even the mindless beasts in the room hesitate for a fleeting second.

“It’s as Kai said,” Gary growled, his voice a deep rumble that seemed to vibrate the very air in the cavern. “Things aren’t going to be easy..

He looked around the room. His enhanced vision, now functioning at 100%, tallied the threat with clinical precision. Over fifty werewolves had already fully transformed, and the sound of iron spikes sliding out of ancient rock was becoming a deafening, rhythmic clatter.

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