Months had passed since Lukas faced the Arctotherium. The forest had changed. The ice began to melt in the lower plains, revealing the dark, living earth beneath the snow.
Lukas had changed too.
The once-scrawny pup now walked with the presence of an alpha. His body, broader and denser, resembled the largest Canis dirus of the pack — and even among the young adults, his gaze was different. Deeper. Older.
The scar running across his snout bore witness to his daily training with the hunters. And yet, he never howled like the others. Not out of fear — but because he was waiting for the right moment.
The pack had migrated to a shallow swamp region, where food was more abundant. And on that particular night, the moon was hidden. Darkness reigned completely.
The silence was broken by a single sound:
A scream.
Not of hunting. Not of warning.
Of death.
The attack was swift. A blur among the trees. A high-pitched, brutal roar. A sound that sliced through bone from within.
The first to fall was the alpha, torn apart before he could even react. Then the elders — even fighting with everything they had — were taken down one by one.
It was as if an ancient nightmare had returned to Earth.
A Sarkastodon — the "demon fangs." A massive, primeval predator, forgotten by time. Nearly as broad as the Arctotherium, but faster. More vicious. And hungry.
The remaining wolves were in a panic. The younger ones retreated, the pups hid. No one led.
Until a shadow rose against the beast.
Lukas.
He didn't snarl. He didn't howl. He simply walked into the center of the clearing, his eyes locked on the creature devouring his predecessors.
- Lukas (thought): "If I run now... they all die. But if I stay... I stop being just a wolf."
The Sarkastodon charged.
The world became a blur of teeth, claws, snow, and blood. But Lukas was more than strength. He was calculation. Instinct. Living history.
With movements that mirrored the ancient alphas, but with a brutality of his own, Lukas bit, dodged, bled, and endured.
Until finally, he sank his teeth into the predator's throat and drove his hind legs into its chest, pushing with everything he had.
The Sarkastodon's roar turned to a gurgle. And then, silence.
When the body fell, the forest fell still. The birds stopped. The night respected.
The young ones approached slowly. Their eyes searched for direction. And all of them looked to him.
Lukas lifted his snout to the sky — and howled.
Strong. Primal. Impossible to ignore.
That night, a new Alpha was recognized.
And the wolf who had once been a man was now something more than both.
He was the Dominator.