My Werewolf System

Chapter 1566: The Weapon Of The Wolf

Steve had used beast weapons before. Back when he traveled the lands rescuing lost wolves and building his small group of allies, a weapon was a necessity, sometimes the only thing standing between him and death. They amplified a werewolf’s power in remarkable ways, and no one in their right mind would deny the advantage that came with that.

But weapons had never truly belonged in Rogan’s philosophy.

The Alpha saw them as human inventions, tools of a weaker race that relied on craftsmanship and material to make up for what they lacked in body and strength. Rogan had always preached that werewolves didn’t need such things. Their claws, fangs, and instincts were their weapons, their fur and muscle their armor.

It was a belief that had spread through the pack.

Steve, however, had never been fully convinced. He understood pride in their race, he understood tradition, but he also understood survival. Against mages, soldiers, and beasts that could level entire forests, pride didn’t stop fire or magic. Logic did. And armor, forged right, could mean the difference between living and dying.

He’d managed to convince Rogan to at least allow armor. It had taken time, debate, and more than a few heated arguments, but eventually Rogan relented, begrudgingly. Still, Steve never got around to convincing him that weapons had their place too.

Because of that, Steve had grown used to relying solely on his own body. His claws, his strength, his instincts. It had been a long time since he’d held a proper weapon in his hands.

Now, surrounded by rows of gleaming blades, bows, and axes, each humming faintly with power, he felt like a stranger in a place that demanded belonging.

He walked slowly along the wall, fingers brushing over the cool metal of twin daggers. “There’s nearly one of everything here,” he murmured, “for every kind of fighter imaginable.”

He passed by the curved daggers, the heavy broadswords, a massive bow etched with runes that shimmered faintly in the forge light. None of them called to him. None of them felt right.

He wasn’t here to find something that made him stronger. That wasn’t the goal anymore.

This isn’t about me, Steve thought. It’s about ending Rogan.

He glanced over his shoulder at Jack, who was still tightening the straps on his golden armor, the two massive weapons, warhammer and sword, crossed behind him like twin wings of destruction. Jack had always been the kind of fighter who charged forward without fear, breaking through obstacles with sheer power. That was his role.

If Jack’s the blade that strikes, Steve thought, then maybe I’m meant to be the wall that stands beside him.

His gaze drifted to a weapon that wasn’t mounted on the wall. It rested against a table, half in shadow, forgotten by the light. A shield.

Steve walked toward it, drawn by something he couldn’t quite explain. It was long, nearly as tall as his torso, its bottom edge tapering into a sharp point. The front was engraved with a circular emblem of a wolf mid-howl, the same symbol he’d seen on other weapons forged in this hidden place. But on this one, the engraving glowed faintly, as if alive.

He lifted the shield with one hand, and blinked in surprise.

It was light. Too light. For a moment he thought it might be hollow, but the moment he tilted it, he felt the weight shift perfectly, balanced as if molded for his grip.

“That’s a good choice,” Jack said from behind him, his grin wide. “In a werewolf’s hands, it’s lighter than a feather but stronger than ever.”

He paused, then added, “And no, I didn’t say that just to rhyme, so why don’t we go and eat a lime!”

Steve gave him a flat look. “Jack.”

Jack coughed and scratched the back of his neck, his face reddening slightly. “Right, serious talk. Anyway,”

He stepped closer, resting a hand on the edge of the shield. “That piece isn’t just for defense. It’s got a few tricks of its own. Pour your Qi into it, then use the pointed end. Try striking the air in front of you.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “You really should work on your explanations.”

“Just trust me.”

With a sigh, Steve adjusted his grip. The shield’s wide face covered his chest and most of his legs, but when he turned it vertically, the pointed end extended beyond his fist, almost like a spear tip. He took a deep breath, focusing his energy. His Qi pulsed through his veins and into the metal.

Immediately, he felt the shield come alive in his hands. The metal shifted, subtle at first, then suddenly, a mechanism inside clicked.

Steve thrust forward.

In an instant, part of the shield shot outward, the pointed end extending like a blade propelled by invisible force. A burst of wind rippled through the room, stirring the embers of nearby forges. The extension retracted smoothly back into place, the shield returning to its original shape with a faint metallic hum.

Steve blinked. “It moves?”

Jack nodded proudly. “Told you. It’s good for defense, and one of the deadliest weapons in the right hands. The edge can pierce through steel, and that extension can shatter barriers or impale at close range. You’ve basically got a weapon and a fortress in one.”

Steve stared down at the shield, running his thumb along the glowing wolf insignia. “It’s perfect,” he admitted quietly. “I can protect you... and strike when the moment comes.”

Jack crossed his arms, grinning wide. “Then that settles it. The armor suits you, the shield completes the look. I think we’re ready.”

Steve turned toward him, his expression hardening. “You mean, ”

Jack nodded. “Yeah. No more delays. If we’re going to stop Rogan, the time’s now.”

Steve hesitated. His thoughts drifted to the others, the werewolves who had stayed behind, the ones who had risked everything to free him from his prison. Part of him wanted to say goodbye, to thank them for what they’d done.

But Jack’s next words pulled him back.

“There’s no need to say farewell,” he said firmly. “We’re not going off to die, Steve. We’re going to win, and come back.”

*****

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