Agrest stood tall on the outer walls of his mansion, staring at the approaching crowd. They weren't charging, not yet. Instead, the army of people dressed in pristine white stopped moving the moment the man in front raised his hand—a simple gesture of command.
That man, with sharp eyes and a calm, predatory presence, began walking alone toward the walls. His eyes locked onto Agrest's.
It was Gray Soliski.
Agrest frowned, unnerved. Who was this man? Why had he brought these people here? His mind raced with possibilities. Deep down, he hoped this wouldn't end in battle. Oh, he was confident his army would win—but the losses would be severe. He was already bleeding influence, power, and wealth. A costly fight would only worsen his crumbling grip over the city.
The man below began to speak, voice clear and commanding.
"My name is Gray Soliski," Gray announced. "I've come to free this city from the clutches of your vile noble family. You've killed your own people long enough."
Hearing those words, Agrest's blood boiled. His eyes flared with rage. So, this was the one—the bastard responsible for turning his businesses upside down, for disrupting his underground operations, for stealing power from under his nose.
And now, he had the audacity to march an army to his doorstep.
Without another thought, Agrest snapped, "Prepare for battle! None of these traitors leave my estate alive!"
His soldiers straightened at once, bows raised, blades drawn. The walls were alive with activity as men climbed higher for a better view. Confusion spread among them when they noticed the enemy's appearance—white robes, no armor, no visible weapons.
"Who the hell shows up to a war dressed as a damn funeral?" a soldier muttered, nocking an arrow to his bow.
The confusion didn't matter. Orders were orders.
Gray, seeing their preparations, didn't flinch. His eyes remained cold, He was focused and his mind was calm. He had expected this. He had come prepared for war.
Agrest drew his sword—a gleaming, polished blade, a level 35 military weapon, a very rare and deadly weapon. He pointed it at Gray.
"What is the meaning of this?!" Agrest shouted. "Do you realize this is treason? An attack on noble blood is an attack on the kingdom! You and your people will die for this. I'll make sure you watch them fall one by one before I rip your heart out."
With those words, Agrest leapt down from the wall, landing just a few meters away from Gray with a heavy thud that cracked the ground beneath his feet.
Gray didn't hesitate.
"Prepare for battle!" Gray roared, voice booming across the battlefield.
The white-robed people behind him straightened, nervous, uncertain. Many were still in human form, untrained, untested. Doubt lingered in the air.
But then Gray's body shifted.
With a sharp growl, his human frame grew, stretching taller, broader. His white fur shimmered under the dying sunlight, streaked with gold and crimson. His monstrous werewolf form towered over the soldiers—an apex predator standing alone before an army.
Agrest's eyes widened. He had heard rumors of beasts, of monsters—but to witness such a transformation firsthand chilled him to the core. Instinct made him step back, but pride anchored his feet.
"Attack at full force!" Agrest roared, regaining composure.
A volley of arrows darkened the sky. Spears and bolts followed, descending upon Gray's army like rain.
But Gray simply lifted his head to the heavens and let out a howl—deep, ancient, and terrifying.
In an instant, his people transformed. Their bodies twisted, bones cracked, fur burst from their skin, and soon, hundreds of werewolves stood behind him, snarling, ready.
The soldiers on the walls faltered. They had prepared to fight men, not monsters. Fear gripped their hearts.
Agrest ground his teeth. "I don't care what the hell you are," he spat, charging forward with his blade raised. "You'll die like everyone else!"
His sword sliced through the air, aimed at Gray's neck—a clean beheading to end this madness.
But Gray's claw shot up, gripping the sword mid-swing. With a crunch of steel and a flash of motion, the blade shattered into worthless fragments.
Agrest froze. His prized level 35 sword, destroyed like it was made of paper.
Gray grinned, sharp fangs gleaming. "You're weaker than I expected, noble boy. Level 50? That's disappointing."
Rage flared in Agrest's eyes. As they clashed, the battlefield exploded into chaos behind them.
Werewolves swarmed the walls, climbing with monstrous speed. Their claws tore into flesh, fangs ripped open throats. The soldiers screamed, some fighting back, others frozen in terror.
Blood painted the stone walls red.
The werewolves moved like predators unleashed, instincts overpowering any sense of mercy. They bit into flesh, tore limbs apart, some even gnawed at corpses with animalistic delight. Their white robes were soon stained crimson.
The noble family's soldiers fought desperately. Arrows flew, swords clashed, but they were overwhelmed. The monsters weren't just strong—they were unpredictable. Faster, smarter, feral.
Meanwhile, up on a tower, the Greenwold siblings watched the slaughter unfold. The daughter trembled uncontrollably, her pale face streaked with fear. She had never witnessed true monsters, and have never seen such brutality.
The son, however, remained eerily calm, eyes sharp. His unique ability allowed him to see levels. Born with this gift, respected solely for it, though physically weak.
He saw it clearly—the soldiers' levels ranged from 17 to 20, captains slightly higher, but the werewolves matched them. Some even reached level 30.
But levels lied.
The power radiating from these beasts defied their numbers. Their savagery, their unpredictability—the soldiers were outmatched in every way.
On the ground, the duel between Gray and Agrest raged on.
Agrest's sword gone, he resorted to fists and kicks, striking with the force of a trained warrior. His style was erratic, strange—a mix of brawling and calculated strikes.
Even Gray paused, amused. "What the hell kind of fighting style is that?"
Despite the odd movements, one powerful kick landed in Gray's torso, forcing him to his knees.
But as Agrest raised a fist for a finishing blow, a claw slashed upward, tearing across his face, leaving deep, bleeding gashes.
Agrest stumbled back, pain blinding him.
"I'll kill you, you damned monster!" he roared, pulling a triangular device from his belt—a small, deadly bomb crafted by his family.
He hurled it at Gray.
BOOOOM, BOOOOOOOOOOOOM.......Boom
The explosion rocked the battlefield—boom after boom, smoke and dust clouding everything.
But when the dust settled, Gray still stood, unharmed.
Agrest's eyes widened in disbelief. Those bombs could kill even a level 40 or 50 fighter. He had only few with him —and they had failed.
Panic crept in
His army was crumbling, his soldiers slaughtered, the werewolves climbing higher, killing faster. Two figures moved with deadly precision—Bella and Fil. Faster, more brutal than the rest.
Agrest saw the truth.
This battle was lost.
He turned, planning to retreat, to escape inside his estate.
But Gray moved like a ghost—a white blur closing the distance in an instant.
A brutal headbutt slammed into Agrest's skull, dazing him. Blood streamed from the wounds as Gray's claws lashed out again.
Agrest dodged—barely—but his leg wasn't so lucky. The limb was severed, flesh and bone ripped apart.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH ......
Agrest collapsed, screaming in agony as blood poured onto the ground.
The soldiers saw their commander fall—and their morale shattered.
Many abandoned their posts, fleeing in terror, but their cowardice only sealed their fate.
The werewolves, now unstoppable, tore through the remaining defenders with merciless efficiency. Bodies were shredded, limbs torn, heads ripped apart. The walls ran red with blood as the sun dipped low, casting a crimson glow over the carnage.
The estate looked like hell itself.
Agrest, his life draining fast, lost consciousness on the blood-soaked ground.
Gray, victorious, turned his gaze to the walls.
"Kill them all. If you find Greenwold family members—capture them. I want them alive."
The slaughter continued.
No soldier was spared. Some bodies were devoured, the werewolves growing stronger with each kill, their bloodlust escalating.
As the sun vanished and night approached, the battlefield was silent.
Only the werewolves remained.
The captured Greenwold siblings, trembling, were thrown into the castle's underground cells along with their unconscious father.
The noble family… defeated.
Gray climbed to the castle's highest tower, overlooking his new domain. His bloodstained white robes fluttered in the wind as he let out a deep, victorious howl, claiming this land as his own.
Hwollllllllllllllllllllllllllllll
In his old pack, he would've marked his territory in a more… primitive way. But this wasn't the time to piss on castle walls.
This was victory.
The city belonged to the wolves now.