Chapter 5: The Wolf in the Shadows

Chapter 5: The Wolf in the Shadows

For a moment, the air in the forest seemed to freeze.

Through the morning mist, Tom locked eyes with that eerie pair of glowing green irises. His heartbeat gradually quickened. The werewolf lurked in the shadows, coldly observing them, as if assessing their reactions.

"Tom…" Jack's voice was barely audible. "What… is that?"

Tom didn't answer. He could feel something changing inside him. His heartbeat slowed yet grew heavier, his blood seemed to surge with restless energy, his skin burned slightly, and his senses sharpened unnaturally. He could hear the faint rustling of leaves and smell the thick, metallic scent of blood—coming from the creature hidden in the shadows.

A primal fear crawled up his spine. But at the same time, another sensation surged within him—an impulse, raw and instinctual.

"Don't move." Tom forced himself to stay calm. "Don't make any sudden movements."

Jack held his breath, cold sweat forming on his forehead. The other students were still distracted by the earlier commotion, completely unaware of the lurking danger. Only Tom and Jack stood frozen, their nerves stretched to the limit.

But silence wouldn't make the threat disappear.

Rustle—

A dry leaf crunched underfoot.

Then came the sound of low, deep breathing from within the forest, slow and steady—something was approaching.

Tom's spine stiffened.

The werewolf was moving.

It didn't lunge at them like a wild beast. Instead, it circled through the shadows, shifting positions, calculating the best angle for an attack. Its movements were nearly silent, but to Tom's heightened senses, every step felt like a blade pressing against his nerves.

Jack finally sensed the shift in the atmosphere. His throat went dry as he whispered, "Tom, what do we do?"

Tom was silent for a moment before he slowly straightened his posture, his gaze still fixed on the forest.

"Back away—slowly. Go get the instructor." He lowered his voice, calm and firm. "Tell everyone to get off the mountain immediately."

Jack's face paled. "What about you?"

Tom didn't answer.

But he had a feeling—this creature wasn't just a mindless beast. It was intelligent. It was watching, waiting, calculating their next move. If they all ran at once, it might trigger an attack.

Someone had to stay behind.

Swish!

Just as Tom braced himself, the shadow in the mist suddenly lunged!

"Run!" Tom shouted, shoving Jack away as he rolled to the side—

A split second later, razor-sharp claws slashed through the space where he had just stood. The ground tore apart, dirt scattering into the air.

The werewolf was terrifyingly fast.

It stood over two meters tall, covered in jet-black fur, with powerful limbs and claws gleaming like blades. Its breathing was low and steady—like that of a calculated hunter toying with its prey. Its glowing green eyes gleamed with intelligence.

It lowered its head slightly, locking its gaze onto Tom.

As if it had found its target.

"Damn it…" Tom pushed himself up, the taste of blood rising in his throat.

His instincts were right.

This thing wasn't just an animal—it was something far more dangerous.

"Get the instructor!" he yelled at Jack.

Jack hesitated for half a second before turning and running. "Instructor! There's—"

The werewolf's ears twitched slightly, but it didn't chase after Jack.

Its gaze never left Tom.

Tom clenched his fists, his eyes growing sharper.

—It was after him.

The werewolf let out a low growl and lunged!

Tom barely dodged in time, rolling to the side. But in mid-air, the creature adjusted its trajectory, claws slicing toward his chest—

Pain erupted from his shoulder.

Tom staggered back, a muffled grunt escaping him as blood seeped through his torn camouflage uniform. His ears rang, and his heartbeat pounded like a war drum inside his chest.

Pain.

Rage.

And an unfamiliar hunger.

Like a rising tide, impossible to suppress.

Tom's breathing grew heavy, his vision tinged with red. His hearing sharpened, picking up the deep, guttural growl within the werewolf's chest.

His heartbeat quickened. His blood boiled.

Something inside him was awakening.

The werewolf stepped closer, its heavy claws sinking into the dirt.

Tom's fingers trembled—his body moved before his mind could react.

—And then, he lunged.

But just as he and the werewolf were about to collide, a voice shattered the tension.

"Enough."

The voice was deep, raspy, and carried an undeniable authority.

The werewolf froze mid-motion.

Its green eyes flickered as it turned toward the source of the voice.

Tom's breath hitched as he followed its gaze.

A figure emerged from the mist-covered mountain path.

He was a tall man, clad in a long black trench coat. His steps were slow yet deliberate, carrying a quiet but overwhelming presence. His face was partially obscured by shadows, but his eyes—cold and predatory—shone through the darkness.

"Go back," the man ordered.

The werewolf let out a low growl, reluctant, but after a brief hesitation, it turned and vanished into the dense forest as if it had never been there.

Tom stood still, breathing heavily, his wound burning.

He looked at the man, his voice hoarse. "Who are you?"

The man didn't answer immediately. He studied Tom for a moment, then smirked slightly—a smile laced with amusement, yet holding an unfathomable meaning.

"You've awakened."

His voice was calm and steady, but it carried an undeniable weight.

Tom's pupils constricted. His heart pounded violently.

And then, the man spoke words that sent a chill down his spine.

"Welcome to the world beyond the rules."