THE SAGA BEGINS

  The sign at the entrance was on the verge of falling, bearing a wolf emblem. Dead bodies lay scattered throughout the front courtyard. They looked like ordinary human beings, except for their fangs and elongated nails resembling those of wolves. A man, appearing to be in his late thirties, stood before a painting no smaller than a door. The artwork depicted a wolf stood in front of a Witch. As he gazed at the painting, an old man rushed in, clearly distressed.

  “Master, the enemy is about to reach the mansion! All of your personal guards are dead, and their bodies are lying in the courtyard.”

  Despite the urgency in the old man’s voice, the man did not seem to react at all. He continued to stare at the painting as if it were his only priority at that moment. The old man’s face was etched with worry as he implored him.

  “Master, please! I beg you. You must escape! I’ll distract the enemies with the remaining forces.”

  But the man remained unresponsive, lost in his own thoughts, oblivious to the old man's presence. He began to speak to himself.

  “They said he was special. He was practically a god. He was the one to unite all of us.”

  The old man interrupted, lowering his head.

  “What are you saying, Master? You are our King. The enemy is at the door, and you need to escape and survive. You must.”

  The old man was cut off again by the man.

  “I wondered how he did that when all of the tribes were at each other's throats and the Vampire tribe was hunting us.”

  The old man pressed on, trying to convince him once more. “Please, Master, I beg you to escape. You are our people’s only hope. Without you, all of the tribes will be at war. Only you can bring peace.”

  “Peace? What have I achieved while being a king? The enemies are at my door, and most of my closest allies are dead. I have achieved nothing, old man.”

  The man replied, turning his head toward the pleading old man. The old man looked up and said, “You united us, master. We enjoyed peace for nearly 300 years. All of this happened because of you. If only we hadn’t been betrayed or trusted them in the first place.”

  The man gazed at the old man, stepping forward two paces and pointing at the painting. “I tried everything to be like him. I fought bravely, uniting others. But in the end, I failed.”

  “There’s still a chance you can do that again. Please, escape,” the old man begged. But the man was resolute in his decision.

  “I will not run from my enemies. I’ll face them head-on. Bring out my sword; it’s time I teach them their place.”

  The old man spoke again.

  “The war is already lost, Master. The enemies are at the main gate. If you don’t run now, we’ll lose our king.”

  Nearly a hundred people approached the burning mansion, all dressed in black hoodies. Only a few of them wielded swords.

  Inside the mansion, the man asked the old man. “Bring out my sword, old man. It’s an order. It may be my last war.”

  “Master!!”

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  The old man looked into the man’s eyes, realizing there was no stopping him.

  Suddenly, the sound of someone falling and rolling on the floor broke the silence. Both men turned to see a four or five-year-old wolf child, complete with wolf ears and claws, sprawled on the ground.

  A mysterious figure stood nearby, making it seem as if they had thrown the child to the floor.

  “Did the intruder run off after killing everyone in the mansion?” The man inquired of the suddenly appeared mysterious figure.

  “They escaped with their prisoner before I reached the prison chamber. Their scent was still fresh. They'll likely meet up with the main force outside the mansion,”

  The mysterious figure reported regarding the child.

  “They only left this little pup behind, half dead. He's one of them. I had no idea what to do, so I brought him here.”

  The old man looked at the kid and said, “If they leave one of their kind, then he must be an anomaly.” He stepped forward, grabbing the kid by the neck, lifting him up like a small pup, and pulling him closer. The kid was bleeding from his forehead, but His eyes burned with fury as he fixed his gaze on the man.

  “Tell me, kid. How do I kill you? You are one of them. You are my enemy, and there’s no way I’ll let you go.”

  The old man appeared shocked, while the mysterious man remained unfazed.

  “Master, there’s no time. The enemies are already gathered outside the mansion. You should—”

  The old man was cut off by the kid's words.

  “It’s okay if you kill me, but don’t call me one of them.”

  The man replied, “Interesting. Any last words before I snap your neck? Perhaps I should leave you here half dead. You’re dead anyway—either by your own kind or from bleeding to death.”

  The kid fiercely replied,

  The man replied,

  “How many times do I have to tell you they are not my kind? I’ll kill every one of them.”

  The kid’s eyes shone, and the man laughed heartily.

  “So that’s how it is. Ha ha! Old man, I hereby name this kid my successor.”

  The old man was in shock, left frozen in place.

  “But master, it is not the time to discuss these matters. I am sure we will find someone of royal blood.” The man placed the kid on the floor.

  “It’s an order, old man—no, Uncle Bren. Raise this kid to be my successor. Escape with him, Uncle.” The old man seemed convinced somehow and walked toward the kid.

  “Is this another one of your gambles, King Jacaerys?” the mysterious man asked, tossing a sword toward the King.

  “It’s a gamble whose outcome I won’t live to see. The last gamble of my life.”

  The old man carried the child on his back as he approached the mysterious figure.

  “I hope you haven’t grown weak from sitting on the throne.”

  The mysterious man glanced at the old man, who was carrying the child, and added, “Follow my scent if you can’t find the hidden passage. I came through it. With all the enemies gathered outside, you shouldn't encounter any. Stay safe, Uncle Bren.”

  The old man, known as Uncle Bren, nodded and left the room.

  “You should have run while you had the chance. But I’m glad you’re here, Xyrus.””

  The king unsheathes his sword and begins to move. The mysterious man also advances in the same direction as the king.

  “Well, it’s been a while since I tasted werewolf blood. Today, I’ll have a feast.”

  His claws are growing slightly larger.

  Outside, a figure with a sword signals by waving it toward the mansion.

  “Attack!”

  All the forces then rush into the mansion to launch their assault.