My Werewolf System

Chapter 1504: The Quiet After the Storm

Innu had been fighting constantly, cutting through werewolf after werewolf with his twin axes. Every swing was precise, each movement backed by Qi and sharpened with his telekinetic powers. His body screamed in protest, but when he saw Apollo in a desperate situation, the choice was obvious. With his ability, he guided one of his attacks straight toward the Iron-masked Werewolf.

Earlier, he had told Apollo to keep the beast as busy as possible while he gathered energy. That had been the plan. The problem was, Apollo had drawn the short straw of opponents. For him, this was the worst type of enemy he could have faced.

Apollo’s strength was legendary, his sheer size, his raw muscle, his resilience. Against most foes, those qualities were enough to dominate. But the Iron-masked Werewolf wasn’t a mindless creature relying only on brute force. It had technique, speed, and enough intelligence to make Apollo’s advantages feel almost useless. Every grip Apollo attempted was dodged. Every heavy strike was countered by precise claws. His hands were swatted away, his tackles evaded, and sharp strikes dug into his body, wearing him down bit by bit.

The Werewolf charged in again, aiming to finish Apollo while he was weakened. Just as its jaws opened wide, an axe spun between their faces, forcing the Iron-masked creature to halt.

It missed, but that wasn’t the point. It was enough to get its attention.

“You’ve done enough now,” Innu said firmly, retrieving the weapon as it snapped back into his grip. His voice carried determination that cut through the chaos. “You don’t have to worry anymore. Let me take care of this!”

Leaping into the air, Qi flaring around him, Innu brought both axes down with full force. The twin blades clashed against the Werewolf’s claws. The ground cracked beneath the pressure, and the creature’s knees buckled, pressed hard toward the dirt.

For a brief moment, Innu thought he had the upper hand. But with a sudden burst of strength, the Werewolf pushed back, knocking the axes aside. Sparks scattered as claws deflected steel, forcing Innu to recover quickly.

He didn’t hesitate. His arms snapped back into position, swinging again in a blur. Axe against claw, steel against flesh, they collided head-on, trading blow for blow. Innu’s strikes were relentless, but the Iron-masked Werewolf’s counters were equally vicious.

Then, in the middle of their furious exchange, the creature dipped low. Its powerful leg swept across the ground, slamming into Innu and sending him crashing down. Before he could recover, the beast pounced, its full weight bearing down on his chest.

Pinned, Innu looked up just in time to see the Werewolf’s mouth opening wide. Teeth gleamed, dripping with saliva, ready to clamp down and tear him apart.

Reacting on instinct, Innu shoved one axe upward, wedging it between the gaping jaws. His telekinesis surged, trying to force the beast back, but the pressure was overwhelming. The Werewolf snapped and bit at the weapon, its claws slashing. One sharp strike dug deep into his shoulder, ripping flesh and forcing a scream from his throat.

“AHHH! Damn it! No wonder you wore that mask, you’re like a rabid dog trying to bite me apart!” Innu gritted through the pain, blood staining his shoulder.

It was a strange sight. Up until now, the Iron-masked Werewolf had fought with almost human discipline, measured strikes, calculated movements. But this, this wild snapping, this feral hunger, it was something else entirely. It made Innu wonder, even in that moment of desperation, if the man beneath the mask was too far gone, too consumed by the beast to ever return.

Before he could do anything else, two massive white hands suddenly grabbed the Werewolf by the waist. With a roar of effort, Apollo hurled the creature aside, flinging it far across the battlefield.

Innu gasped as the weight lifted off him. He turned his head and saw Apollo, chest still bleeding heavily from the deep wound carved into him earlier, standing tall despite the agony.

“I’m not useless,” Apollo growled, offering Innu his hand and pulling him back to his feet.

Both men turned their attention to where the Iron-masked Werewolf had landed. This time, the beast didn’t immediately spring back up. For the first time, its movements slowed. Its eyes, which had been blazing with madness moments before, flickered. The feral growl that had been constant quieted slightly.

Innu narrowed his eyes, realizing the change at the same moment Apollo did.

It wasn’t because of them. It wasn’t because they had finally worn him down.

It was because, at that very moment, Gary had defeated Ylva. The Luna’s wolf song, the song that had been driving every Werewolf into madness, was fading from the battlefield. Its hold was diminishing, the frenzy bleeding away.

And that wasn’t the only difference. All around them, the battlefield felt... still. The great rumblings, the shockwaves of energy that had shaken the ground and echoed across the park, those had stopped. The oppressive weight that had pressed on every fighter’s chest was gone. Even though skirmishes still raged in pockets, everyone felt it.

The silence was unnatural. Unsettling.

Gary stumbled, his body weak, standing near Ylva’s unmoving body. His chest rose and fell raggedly, every breath a struggle.

“I don’t have energy,” he muttered, his eyes flicking to Ylva. “Do I... eat her now? But that would waste time. And what about Don?”

The thought made his chest tighten. He was worried, not just about himself or Blake, but about Don Tinge. Like everyone else, Gary felt the sudden absence of those massive shockwaves.

“Gary!” Blake called out, his swords trembling in his exhausted hands. “I think... the fight that Lupus had, it’s over.”

Blake’s words only confirmed what Gary already feared. His vision strained, but he couldn’t see them anymore. Lupus and Don had clashed so violently that their fight had carried them deep into the forest at the park’s edge, far from sight.

And yet, deep in that forest, the reason for the silence revealed itself.

Lupus, in his True Alpha form, loomed over a broken body. His claws dripped crimson. His fangs glistened with blood. Don Tinge, the Leviathan, had fallen.

With a final savage thrust, Lupus stabbed his hand straight through Don’s skull. The great Altered king shuddered, his body collapsing as life left it in an instant. The enormous Leviathan form shrank rapidly, breaking down into a battered hybrid state, and then further still until nothing remained but Don’s broken corpse.

The forest was still. The world was still.

And then, slowly, Lupus turned. His eyes, wild and unrelenting, locked once again on the battlefield in the distance. His prey awaited, and now, nothing stood between him and them.

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