Under the Ancient Moon

CHAPTER 33

One Year Ago

It had been a week since Gideon's attack and since Mike had saved them. Vlad and Ethan were still trying to recover. Their physical wounds had begun to heal, but the hollow void left in their souls remained open.

But for Ethan, his decision was already clear.

He would never remain weak again.

A man who couldn't protect himself could never protect the people around him.

Being stuck at the Beta level… the very thought filled him with rage. He knew he could ascend beyond even an Alpha. He had made up his mind to reach the form spoken of only in the oldest legends the most savage, the most powerful form.

To awaken it, he had to return to where the very first curse was born.

That land… was the ancient remains of Mesopotamia. Forgotten, barren soil where the shadows of the Tigris and Euphrates still fell. The echo of the curse still lived there, and the scent of old blood still clung to the earth.

Ethan shifted into his wolf form.

The journey was brutal he ran day and night without rest, crossing dried riverbeds, barren desert, enduring the stench of rot carried by the wind. After a month of relentless travel… he finally arrived.

The ground beneath his paws was dead. Deserted earth, shattered stones, old seals that had drunk the blood of centuries past… Even the wind carried an ominous hum. The silence was so heavy that even breathing felt like being watched.

This was the place.

The place named in the first legend.

The ritual seemed simple, but its cost was great.

First, a sacrifice. The sacrifice's blood would open the door. Then that same blood would be smeared across his own body. He would wound himself with his own claws, then howl under the light of the full moon.

Ethan's eyes darkened. His claws extended, tips sharp as blades.

The sacrifice before him trembled in terror, tried to crawl backward but it was useless. A moment of silence…

And Ethan did not hesitate.

His claws slashed across the sacrifice's throat. He heard the wet, tearing sound of flesh splitting. Blood burst forth, its heat splattering across his face and fur. The body collapsed without a single scream.

Ethan scooped the hot blood into his hands. He paused for a moment… inhaling deeply, filling his lungs with its metallic scent, the taste burning his throat. He smeared the blood across his chest, his neck, his face.

And the next step… he dragged those same claws across his own flesh. He tore open his chest, his arms. His own blood mixed with the sacrifice's blood. Each cut felt like it was being etched into his soul.

The full moon broke free from the clouds. Its pale light fell across the broken stones. Ethan lifted his head…

And howled.

But this howl… it was not ordinary.

The sound that tore from his throat was distorted, echoing, wild a feral scream more than a howl. The ground beneath him seemed to tremble. It was as if even the sky itself recoiled from the sound.

Suddenly, his body began to react violently. His breathing grew rapid. His muscles seized and locked. His bones felt as if they were twisting inward. The blood in his veins burned like fire. A searing pain rose from his chest, and he struggled not to scream.

Ethan fell to his knees. A thick, blackened fluid spilled from his mouth. His breath was fading, his vision blurring. It felt as though an unknown power was ripping through his veins, forcing its way inside.

"Ha… haaahhh…!" he groaned.

Then a wave of darkness closed over his eyes.

Under the full moon, his blood-soaked body went still.

Ethan had completed the savagery of the ritual…

But his body could not withstand its power.

And his consciousness was swallowed by the void.

As the night wind carried the stench of blood, only silence remained.