Chapter 12: The Mad Doctor

The scalpel sliced through the air, aiming straight for Jack's throat.

His body reacted instinctively—he twisted to the side just in time. The blade skimmed past his neck, its icy sharpness brushing against his skin, sending a shiver down his spine.

Aisha's gun snapped up in an instant—Bang!

The bullet struck the doctor's shoulder with deadly precision.

But eerily, he didn't seem to feel pain. His body swayed slightly, then twisted unnaturally as he steadied himself, continuing his advance toward them.

Jack's pupils contracted.

The doctor's movements were unnatural. His joints creaked and popped, like a puppet being controlled by an unseen force.

"Shit…" Aisha cursed under her breath, shifting position to maintain her shooting angle.

The doctor's empty eyes locked onto Jack. Slowly, his lips curled into a grotesque smile.

"You… came back…"

Jack's heart gave a violent thud. His fingernails had started to lengthen again without him realizing it.

"What do you mean?" His voice was hoarse and edged with danger.

The doctor didn't answer. Instead, he lunged forward—his speed far beyond that of an ordinary human.

Jack's fist shot out, slamming into the doctor's chest. The impact sent him staggering backward, but instead of collapsing like a normal person, he stiffly regained his footing—like a marionette held up by invisible strings.

"He's not alive," Aisha murmured, her voice darkening.

Jack stared at the doctor, his hunger surging more violently than ever. He could smell it now—the rotting stench within the man's body.

A failed experiment.

The doctor's mouth fell slightly open. A broken, gurgling whimper escaped his throat, somewhere between a sob and a laugh.

"You… have… changed back…"

The next second, he abruptly lifted his head—

His pupils morphed into the same wolf-like eyes as Jack's.

——

The air turned deathly still.

A chill crept down Jack's spine.

In that moment, it felt like he was staring into a mirror—

A monster, both familiar and foreign, was gazing back at him.

"Aisha," Jack murmured, his voice low and dangerous. "He knows me."

Aisha's expression shifted slightly, her grip tightening on the trigger. "You've been here before?"

A flash of something dark flickered through Jack's mind—

Blood. An operating table. Restraints. A blurred face of a doctor.

His breathing hitched for a second. But before he could process it further—

The doctor attacked again.

This time, he was even faster.

His arm suddenly ripped apart, flesh splitting open to reveal half-transformed wolf claws.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Aisha fired three shots in rapid succession. The bullets struck the doctor's body, but he only shuddered briefly before lunging straight for Jack.

Jack's pupils shrank—

And at that moment, instinct overpowered reason.

The wolf within him erupted.

He caught the doctor's attack midair, his own claws bursting forth—razor-sharp, lethal.

With a swift, brutal motion, he drove his claws straight into the doctor's chest.

Squelch!

The doctor's body stiffened. A grotesque smile twisted across his distorted face.

"You… can't… escape…"

His voice was barely a whisper.

Then, his body convulsed violently—like a puppet with its strings cut—before collapsing to the ground.

Blood pooled across the floor, thick with a sickening stench of decay.

Jack stared at his own hands, breathing hard.

He had just killed him—without thinking.

But what unsettled him most was—

What did the doctor's final words mean?

Chapter 21: The Experiment

The air was thick with the scent of blood and rot.

Jack's hands were still stained with the doctor's blood. Slowly, the sharp wolf claws at his fingertips retracted, returning to their human form.

But that brief moment of instinctual killing still echoed in his mind.

He looked down at the corpse.

The doctor was dead, yet his eyes remained open. His lips were still curled into that unnerving smile—mocking, or perhaps declaring some kind of truth.

Aisha crouched down, cautiously pulling back the doctor's collar.

On his chest, she found a strange metal tag—

Code: E-7.

Her frown deepened.

"An experiment number?" she murmured.

Jack stared at the metal tag, and suddenly, fragments of memories flickered through his mind—

Strapped to a freezing cold operating table. His body convulsing in agony.

Doctors whispering beside him.

Blinding lights above.

"…E-7, relatively stable…"

"…But still prone to losing control…"

"…Increase the dosage. Push the transformation further…"

"…He must obey…"

Jack's eyes snapped shut, a sharp pain stabbing through his temples.

"Hey!" Aisha caught his arm. "What's wrong?"

His breath was ragged. His fingers pressed tightly against his forehead.

"I… remember…" His voice was rough, barely squeezing out from his throat. "I was here… I was experimented on."

Aisha's pupils contracted. "Are you sure?"

Jack lifted his head sharply, a flicker of fear in his eyes.

"This place… they used to imprison others like me."

Aisha's hand instinctively moved to her gun, scanning the area warily.

"You're saying this was… a werewolf experiment facility?"

Jack nodded, his voice dark. "Not just werewolves… something else too."

Aisha's expression grew more serious.

She looked around—the operating table, the bloodstains on the walls, scattered medical records.

This wasn't just an abandoned hospital—it was a secret laboratory.

The air felt heavier.

"Keep searching," Aisha ordered, voice calm. "Let's find out what else is hidden here."

——

They moved down the dimly lit hallway, the flickering lights casting long, distorted shadows. Some lights had already gone out, making the corridor feel even darker.

Jack's footsteps were silent, each step feeling like he was treading into unknown danger.

At the end of the corridor stood a rusted iron door. Though the surface was worn, faint lettering was still visible—

"QUARANTINE ZONE."

Jack and Aisha exchanged a glance. Then, she reached out and pushed the door open.

Inside—

Rows of transparent containment pods lined the walls.

Some were shattered, their contents long gone.

But in a few—something remained.

——A mutilated werewolf corpse, its chest split open, its dried organs exposed.

——A grotesquely swollen head, a twisted result of failed genetic modification.

——A man still in a hospital gown, his eyes open, his skin shriveled—starved to death inside his pod.

Jack's throat tightened.

This place… was once a human experimentation site.

He stood in front of the broken pods, his heartbeat pounding.

What did this mean?

It meant he might not be a natural werewolf at all.

But rather—the result of an experiment.

He instinctively took a step back, his chest tightening.

Just then—Aisha spotted something in the corner.

A metal cabinet.

She swiftly rummaged through it, pulling out an old, yellowed file.

The cover had only a few simple words—

"E-Series Experiment Report."

She flipped open the first page—then immediately froze.

"Jack…" Her voice shook slightly.

Jack looked at her. "What is it?"

Aisha took a deep breath and handed him the file.

Jack lowered his gaze.

And then—he saw it.

——

"Experiment Number: E-7"

"Subject Name: Jack Wilson"

"Objective: Enhance werewolf genes. Create a controllable specimen."

"Results: Subject exhibits exceptional adaptability but remains unstable.

Signs of memory loss detected. Further observation required."

——

Jack's breath stopped.

His mind went blank.

His fingers trembled slightly.

"…I was an experiment?"

His voice was hoarse—a guttural growl forced from deep within his throat.

Aisha watched him, jaw tightening. "Jack… we don't know if this is the whole truth."

But Jack's eyes reddened slightly.

He stared at the file in his hands, his breathing growing heavier.

The fragments of memories in his head suddenly became clearer.

He remembered—the cold operating table. The restraints. The detached voices of the researchers.

He wasn't just a werewolf.

He was created.

Aisha watched him carefully, her eyes laced with concern. "Jack. Stay calm."

Jack closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

He had to stay calm.

But inside him, something was boiling over—

Rage. Resentment. Fear.

And a deep, bone-chilling hatred.

Then—

Footsteps echoed from the far end of the hallway.

Someone was coming.