My Werewolf System

Chapter 1491: The Chosen Opponents

While the chaos of battle raged around them, clashes echoing from the streets, the restaurant shaking under constant assault, the key members of the Howlers knew they couldn’t afford to get lost in the storm. Each of them had a role to play, a specific target to deal with, and if they didn’t lock in on those threats, the entire group could fall apart.

For Austin, standing at the heart of the battlefield, the pressure was crushing. His instincts screamed at him to charge forward, to throw himself at any enemy that dared to stand in front of him, but the thought lingered, should he be actively seeking out his true opponent? Or should he simply cut down whatever crossed his path?

He made his decision. No searching. No hesitation. Anything in his way would be destroyed.

A snarling Werewolf lunged at him, jaws gaping, claws outstretched. Austin didn’t flinch. His fist shot upward, hammering the beast’s mouth shut with a sickening crack. He forced its jaws closed with one massive hand and, without pause, pummeled its face again and again. Each strike made bone crunch and teeth shatter, fragments spraying the ground.

There was no time to consider cruelty. No thought of mercy. Only survival.

Another Werewolf darted at his flank, claws slashing for his ribs. Austin slammed his heel into the ground, a surge of power cracking the earth beneath him. A jagged pillar of rock erupted upward, smashing into the Werewolf’s jaw and snapping its head back violently.

Before Austin could catch his breath, yet another beast lunged. He reacted without thinking, gripping the half-conscious Werewolf he had been battering and swinging its body like a weapon. The heavy corpse smashed into the newcomer, both tumbling into the dirt in a heap of snarls and limbs.

But then came something different. A searing streak of heat cut through the air, hissing as it carved a glowing line across the battlefield. A whip, long, burning, unnatural, lashed forward and tore clean through the torso of a Werewolf that had been leaping nearby. The creature split in two before it even hit the ground.

Austin’s eyes narrowed.

“These weapons... they’re really something I need to worry about.”

The whip cracked toward him. He stepped forward, sparks rippling at his feet as a portal bloomed open. In an instant, he was gone. The whip sliced through empty air.

Behind the wielder, a second portal flared to life. Austin emerged in a blur of motion, slamming his entire body weight into the fighter. The impact was brutal, sending the enemy crashing into several Werewolves at once, knocking them sprawling.

Austin could feel it, his control over his ability sharpening, his recovery from earlier exhaustion nearly complete. He was adapting, faster and faster with every use.

“Hey! Did you forget about me?”

The mocking voice came from above. A metal shield slammed down, cracking across Austin’s skull. His vision rang with pain, his body stumbling back under the weight of the strike.

The shield didn’t stop. It bashed forward again, but this time Austin planted his feet, driving his fist forward. The collision rattled the air, his punch knocking the shield back with force.

And then he saw the wielder clearly.

“Didn’t I break that thing already?” Austin growled.

Broodie smirked behind the dented shield. He tapped it twice with his knuckles, the metal humming strangely.

“Lucky for you, this isn’t just any shield. It’s quite special.” He smirked wider, gripping it tighter. “But unlucky for you, it’s still in my hands.”

Austin clenched his fists. Broodie had found him, and this time, it wouldn’t be so easy to break away.

Austin wasn’t the only one carving his way through the horde. Across the battlefield, the Howler members had realized a bitter truth. Those who weren’t weakened by the full moon, those who could still fight at their peak, had to carry the weight of everyone else. There were too many Werewolves, and only the strongest could hope to make a difference now.

That was why Innu was fighting like a man possessed.

His twin axes blurred as he swung them in wide, relentless arcs. He didn’t waste his energy on the armored beasts; instead, he targeted the weaker Werewolves, the ones without beast gear, the ones slower to react. He cut through them methodically, carefully, with a savage precision.

One claw strike lashed out at him, but Innu’s instincts reacted. He brought his axe up sharply, deflecting the claws, twisting the beast’s arm aside. With his other hand, he swung upward, burying the blade deep into the Werewolf’s chin. Before the creature could fall, his second axe came down in a vicious arc, splitting through its skull.

He yanked the axes free, sliding the steel across the beast’s hide. A rush of vitality pulsed through him, the weapons’ unique effect restoring some of his strength with each kill.

‘I still have to be careful,’ Innu reminded himself. ‘I can’t burn through my telekinesis yet. I don’t know when we’ll really need it. For now, I’ll fight with the axes, build up as much energy as I can.’

“Stay tight!” Apollo barked, keeping close. His fists cracked against any Werewolf that came too near, his body already marked by claw scars and bleeding cuts. He was battered, but he didn’t falter. His role was clear, protect Innu while he swung.

Apollo’s sharp eyes spotted it before Innu did. A figure in the chaos, standing too still.

“I think I see the one we’re meant to face.”

Innu’s gaze followed. There, in the midst of roaring beasts and flying claws, stood a lone Werewolf. Its arms dangled limply at its sides. It wore no expression, gave off no rage, no madness like the others. Its face was hidden by a cold, iron mask.

A chill crawled down Innu’s spine.

“Why do I have the feeling,” he muttered, tightening his grip on his axes, “that this is going to be a really, really hard fight?”

The familiarity was unsettling. He couldn’t place it, but something about the Iron Masked Werewolf made his instincts scream.

And elsewhere, across the blood-soaked battlefield, two more Howlers had already found their foe, or rather, their foe had found them.

Ylva stood tall, her eyes gleaming with savage intent. The air around her pulsed with the oppressive power of the Luna form, and every Werewolf nearby seemed to howl louder at her presence.

“I knew you two would chase after me,” she said, her voice calm, confident, chilling. “So I thought it would be easier if I came to you.”

Her lips curled into a sharp smile.

“It’s time to finish the job.”

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