The air was thick and punishing, a physical weight that pressed down on the dozen students moving across the cracked, sun-baked earth. Sweat plastered black training shirts to skin, and the glare off the high summer sun made every movement a shimmering effort. The only sound was the rhythmic thwack of wooden practice swords colliding.
Jess spun out of a clumsy lunge, her silver practice sword tracing a sharp arc that met the side of her opponent's weapon with a satisfying crack. A few yards away, Ryan parried low, his breath coming in ragged gasps, while Mona was already circling for the opening to land a final, decisive strike. Their teacher, Thomas, stood near the edge of the field, arms crossed, his gaze sharp and unwavering despite the heat.
It happened in a single, silent instant.
Ryan's sword froze mid-swing, the tip trembling slightly. Around him, every sparring partner suddenly went still. The rhythmic thwack of practice stopped, replaced by a deep, eerie silence.
Jess, Ryan, and Mona, the three "defectives," exchanged quick glances, confused. They dropped their guards and began to walk toward each other, drawn by the sudden, unnatural stillness of the others.
But for the rest of the students, the world fractured.
Thomas's eyes, fixed on the three confused students, suddenly glazed over with a milky white film. He stiffened completely. A brutal, agonizing wave of images and emotions—grief, fury, and the raw scent of blood—blasted through his mind. A pup. Dead.
A low, subterranean growl ripped from Thomas's throat, deep and animalistic. The sound was immediately echoed across the field. His body contorted, his spine arching as his clothes tore and flesh gave way to bone and fur. In seconds, he stood defensively before his three students in his massive wolf form, a shield of duty.
He couldn't hurt them. These were his students, pups. The thought tore through Thomas's mind, clashing with the desperate need to hold the line. He used his Warrior training to restrain himself, praying he didn't inflict a fatal wound. He was supposed to temper their aggression, not shatter them with his own. He needed the Warriors, and he needed them now.
"Something's up!" Ryan said, as they converged, pulling the two girls closer to him.
"It feels like they want to kill us!" Mona whispered, her eyes wide.
"Why?" Jess muttered, her gaze darting between their paralyzed classmates.
A chorus of rising, focused fury signaled the formation of a single mental message in the wolves' minds. The murder of a pup was a serious matter.
The sound of ripping fabric began to dominate the air. The black shirts of their classmates shredded, unable to contain the violent, instantaneous expansion of bone and muscle. Fangs erupted from gums, muzzles elongated, and within the space of three heartbeats, where students had once stood, there were now massive, shaggy-pelted wolves. Their eyes were not confused; they were burning with primal hatred and focused on the only three humans left standing.
Thomas kept the three close behind him. He snarled and snapped, driving his muzzle deep into the flank of the first charging student-wolf. He used his bulk and defensive posture to shove and redirect the attacks, careful to land blunt strikes with his shoulder or hip—anything to avoid tearing flesh. He was a wall, desperately trying to keep his raging students back without causing them lifelong injury.
Ryan's silver practice sword was already colored in blood, chunks of fur and gore clinging to the blade as he slashed at the wolves that tried to sneak around their flanks. He didn't notice how his brown eyes began to illuminate, glowing with a pulsing intensity. He felt something inside break free. He fell to his knees as his body began to writhe, his skin looking as if his bones were shifting beneath it.
His body broke and reformed until he lay on the ground, panting in his true form. He rose as a powerful black wolf with gray spots, growling fiercely at the wolves around him. He took on the encroaching wolves head-first, snarling, biting, and swiping at any wolf that dared to get close to him. He was a wolf now.
Mona struggled similarly, but her mind was a scattered mess of fear and confusion. Her shift came on wrong and incomplete, her body forming in a broken mash of skin and fur. When her shift finished, she was a wolf, but a broken wolf. Some of her skin appeared inside-out on her legs. She howled in agony at her inability to fix what had happened, lying on the ground, a lump of skin and blood before she soon blacked out.
Jess watched in disbelief as both Ryan and Mona turned to wolves. She felt the burning excitement inside her, a desperate need for it to happen, as she fended off the incoming wolves, the silver of her gore-streaked blade catching the sun. She waited for the heat, for the pull, to shift, but nothing happened. She was the only one left.
The sound of pounding paws and low, disciplined growls suddenly permeated the open field. The ground vibrated with the heavy, measured approach. A second, larger wave of wolves—the Warriors—entered the field, not in a chaotic rush, but in a precise, organized wedge formation. They were massive, and their movements were synchronized. They efficiently circled the small group in a form of protection and containment. The difference was immediate: cold, strategic focus replacing primal rage.
Jess felt an immense wave of exhaustion wash over her. She quickly made her way, as fast as she could, towards Mona. Her forearms were scratched and bloody, but Mona's broken form was a horrifying sight.
"She needs to get to the pack clinic now!" Jess shouted.
Ryan whined in his wolf form, his snout nuzzling Mona's, begging her to respond.
Thomas let out a deep, shuddering breath, the stress of holding his aggressive students back leaving his muscles shaking. He shifted back to his human form, his hands pulling his tunic back into place, and stood next to Hugh, the leader of the Warriors.
Hugh's powerful voice cut through the air, overriding all other sounds. "We are on lockdown. Go back to your rooms. Shift to your human forms. Anyone found outside of their rooms will be severely punished, whipped with silver."
The immense suppression of the stronger Warriors was immediate. The student-wolves reluctantly shifted back, their eyes still blazing with fury, as they shuffled back into the warrior house.
"I was told there were multiple defectives," Hugh said, assessing the three survivors.
"These are the defectives. Ryan shifted naturally during the attack. Mona's was more chaotic. All three of them are defectives," Thomas reported.
"They shifted?" Hugh asked.
"Yes," Thomas affirmed.
"Boy, shift back!" Hugh barked at Ryan.
Ryan's shift back to human form was slow and agonizing. As his vocal cords reformed, he screamed out in pain as his body finally finished shifting. It had taken a whole three minutes.
"You shift quick for a pup," Hugh said in an assessing voice.
Ryan wanted to curse this man. Quick? It had been hell.
"You shifted, how? Why?"
Ryan took a deep breath. His new senses were a roaring cacophony. He could hear the birds chirping, the ants crawling, and the Warriors' blood pumping. But now, it was mixed with a horrifying new depth—the sound of true chaos.
From within the pack house, he heard the low, mental murmurs of the students who had just attacked them: "Kill the defectives. They deserve death for the pup." He could hear the faint, distant screaming of someone from the high school buildings, and he smelled the sharp, metallic tang of fresh blood being shed miles away in the forest. It was true chaos, layered and everywhere.
"I don't know," Ryan said, his voice raw. "I just... it's the first time I felt like I was in real danger. And then I wanted to protect myself and I shifted."
Jess, leaning over Mona, listened to Ryan. "Real danger."
The words struck her with cold clarity. She made the connection immediately. She had been terrified moments ago, the snarling student-wolves surrounding them, a feral crowd driven by grief. But she had been face-to-face with true monsters before—creatures whose sole intent was her utter destruction. This fight, this mob, was nothing compared to the nightmares she had survived.
A bitter taste filled her mouth as she realized the devastating truth: because her life had been a living nightmare, because she was so accustomed to fear, she might never know what it was like to be a wolf, to be accepted, to be whole. Ryan and Mona were broken and defective, yet they had transformed in the face of genuine, immediate fear. Jess was left behind as the last broken thing, her terrifying threshold for pain and terror the very barrier separating her from the pack. It was the crushing, final difference between her and them.
Hugh went still as he received another mental message. Second stage students in the forest have been attacked. We've lost contact. We need some Warriors out there.
"You five," Hugh began, gesturing to a group of his men. "Bring the girl to the pack clinic. Both girls. Boy—"
"I'll keep watching Ryan. He's my student," Thomas interjected.
"He will be confined to his room. I will keep watch over the students," Thomas assured him.
"Move out!" Hugh ordered, and the Warriors turned with military precision, racing toward the forest, leaving the scene of the chaos in a sudden, unnerving silence.
Author's note:
WE HAVE MADE IT! THIS IS THE 100TH CHAPTER. SO MANY MORE TO GO LOL! Ignore my irrational excitement. Vote comment all the good things.