The Beast Within

A hulking figure sat at the center of the room, draped over a massive iron chair like a throne. His broad shoulders and scaled skin gave him a reptilian, almost prehistoric look. His dark green scales were scarred from past battles, and his golden eyes gleamed with intelligence and menace.

Drago.

He exuded the presence of a king ruling over his domain. The other gang members moved with unspoken deference around him, careful not to get too close.

Drago tilted his head, looking Brendon up and down before speaking in a slow, deliberate tone.

"So... you're the new Sheriff my boys have been talking about. Aren't you?"

Brendon smirked, his eyes scanning the gang members watching their exchange. "I'm guessing that call was just a bait to lure me here."

Drago's grin revealed sharp teeth. "Indeed. Clever. But you still came. That makes me wonder—are you brave, or just an idiot?"

Brendon shrugged. "Maybe both. So why am I here? Why did you summon me?"

Drago leaned forward, resting his scaled hands on his knees. "Because I want to discuss some terms."

The gang members exchanged looks, some grinning as if they already knew what was coming.

Drago continued. "You stay away from my business. No more meddling in my affairs. And if one of my boys gets caught? You release them. No questions asked."

Brendon chuckled, shaking his head. "Do you really think I'd be intimidated by this?" He crossed his arms. "That's not happening."

Drago sighed dramatically, before standing up.

His full height was even more imposing—easily over seven feet, with a frame packed with raw muscle. His thick tail dragged lightly against the ground as he took a step closer.

"That's unfortunate." His voice was calm, but there was something deadly behind it. "Because now, Sheriff, you have to die."

A flick of his clawed hand.

The gang members moved.

Brendon's muscles tensed as the sound of weapons being drawn filled the air. Bats scraped against the floor. Knives glinted under the dim light. The air grew heavier.

He is surrounded now.

And there is only one way out.

He had to fight.

Brendon stood firm, fists clenched as the gang members closed in around him. Their eyes gleamed with predatory intent, weapons ready. He knew this wasn't just some casual beatdown—they wanted him dead.

A flicker of movement behind him.

He reacted on instinct.

A lizard-like thug lunged from behind, aiming a thick iron pipe at Brendon's head. Brendon rolled forward, narrowly dodging the swing, and as the attacker stumbled from the missed strike, he grabbed the thug's wrist and twisted it sharply.

CRACK.

The thug let out a strangled yelp as Brendon shoved his arm behind his back, forcing him to the ground.

Brendon leaned in, voice calm but deadly. "Don't you dare think I'm defenseless. I can put some punches into you guys."

Another thug—a hound, tall and muscular—charged at him, aiming a fist at Brendon's face. Brendon released the lizard, dodged sideways, and countered with a brutal elbow strike to the hound's jaw.

The thug staggered back, dazed.

Then they all came at him.

---

The Fight

A hawk swooped in, talons ready to tear into Brendon. He barely managed to sidestep the attack, but the moment his feet touched the ground, a heavy reptilian fist came swinging at his ribs.

Brendon twisted his body, absorbing the impact before launching an uppercut into the attacker's gut. The lizard stumbled back, winded, but another opponent—a **fox with brass knuckles—**came at him next.

Brendon caught the fox's wrist, twisted it, and drove his knee into his stomach, forcing him down.

They weren't letting up.

Two hounds grabbed Brendon's arms from both sides, pinning him in place. Another goon, a large boar, cracked his knuckles and approached with a smirk.

"Let's break his ribs first."

Brendon didn't wait.

He yanked his body downward, lifting both legs, and kicked the approaching boar square in the chest. The impact knocked the brute back. At the same time, he twisted his wrists free, breaking the hounds' hold.

A knife gleamed in the dim light.

A hawk swooped down again, slashing toward Brendon's neck.

Brendon dodged, but the knife's edge grazed his shoulder. He ignored the sharp sting, grabbing a nearby wooden crate and hurling it at the hawk's head.

It connected. The hawk crashed to the ground.

But the numbers were overwhelming.

A bulldog, massive and built like a tank, seized the opening.

Before Brendon could react, the bulldog's thick arms wrapped around his throat.

---

The Change

Brendon's feet left the ground as the bulldog lifted him by the neck, choking the life out of him.

His hands clawed at the thick arms restraining him. His vision blurred.

Darkness crept at the edges of his sight.

His lungs screamed for air, but the bulldog's grip only tightened. The world around him became distant—a murky haze of shadows and flickering lights.

Not like this.

A deep, ancient force stirred inside him. A primal, burning rage.

His body convulsed.

Then—

His eyes snapped open.

They weren't the same.

Golden.

A bestial growl rumbled from his throat. His heartbeat thundered in his ears.

His fingers—**now claws—**dug into the bulldog's thick arms. The muscles in his arms swelled with inhuman strength.

The bulldog's smirk disappeared.

With a guttural snarl, Brendon ripped himself free from the grip, forcing the thug's arms apart with unnatural power.

Then he struck.

Brendon's clawed fingers dug into the bulldog's gut as he drove a knee into his ribs.

The thug howled in pain, staggering back. Brendon didn't let up. A spinning kick connected with his face, sending him crashing into a pile of crates.

The room fell silent for a moment.

The gang members hesitated. Brendon was no longer just a mere anthro wolf.

He was something else.

---

The Beast Unleashed

Brendon stood in the center of the room, panting, his half-werewolf form is awakened.

Golden wolf-like eyes.

Sharpened fangs.

His fur had thickened, spreading across his arms and shoulders. Clawed hands flexed at his sides, still dripping with the bulldog's blood.

The goons stared in shock.

Then one of them—a reckless hyena—charged at him with a knife.

Brendon sidestepped with inhuman speed. His claws slashed outward.

The blade clattered to the ground.

The hyena stumbled back, shrieking.

His arm was missing.

Blood splattered across the floor.

A hound snarled and rushed at Brendon.

He caught the attack, grabbed the thug by the throat, and drove his claws through his chest.

Ripping downward.

Another scream echoed through the chamber.

The other gang members started backing away.

But Brendon wasn't finished.

He dashed forward, faster than they could react, and slammed one goon's head into a metal pole. Bone crunched. The thug collapsed, unconscious.

The remaining fighters were paralyzed with fear.

Blood dripped from Brendon's claws onto the concrete floor. His breathing was heavy, deep, animalistic.

And then—

---

Drago's Revelation

A slow clap broke the silence.

Brendon turned.

Drago stood there, an amused grin curling his reptilian lips. His golden eyes held no fear.

"Wait..." Drago murmured, scanning Brendon's features. "You've changed. That means... you're a Mythriven, aren't you?"

Brendon's body tensed.

His golden eyes flickered.

"What? How do you—?"

Drago suddenly raised his hands.

"I surrender."

Brendon blinked, caught off guard.

Drago smirked. "Take me to your useless law enforcement. I actually want to meet your chief."

The gang members—those who remained standing—stared at Drago in disbelief.

Brendon clenched his fists, his claws retracting slightly. His breath was still heavy, but he forced himself to calm down. He turns back to normal.

"Okay, Drago. You are under arrest for trying to bribe a government official on duty." Brendon announces. He then cuffs Drago takes him out of that underground structure.