My Werewolf System

Chapter 1661: An Old Tradition

The two packs of Werewolves stood facing each other, separated only by the scarred earth between them. Gary had seen battles before, real ones, filled with chaos, screaming, and sudden movement, but this was different. This wasn’t a clash yet. It was a pause before one. A moment where everything felt stretched thin, like the world itself was holding its breath.

No one rushed forward. No one tried to gain an advantage with surprise attacks or hidden movements. Both sides stood openly, their numbers visible, their strength on display. There were loose formations among the groups, but it was clear that this would not be a battle of tricks or ambushes. If fighting happened, it would be direct. Brutal. Honest.

Gary swallowed. The air itself felt heavy, thick with tension. He could hear the low growls from Werewolves struggling to keep their instincts in check, the subtle shifting of feet against dirt, the creak of leather and metal as bodies adjusted. Heightened senses made everything sharper, the scent of sweat, the distant smoke rising near Steve’s camp, the faint sound of wind brushing through the trees.

“Jack,” Steve called out, his voice steady but loud enough to carry across the field. “You have come here with members of your pack, and you carry weapons with you. We haven’t seen each other in a long time. Do we really have to fight? Can we not talk about the issues in front of us?”

His words were calm, almost pleading, and yet they landed like stones.

Jack didn’t answer.

Inside his mind, questions swirled endlessly. Why was Steve ready? How did he know Jack was coming? Was this coincidence, or had Steve already understood the same truth Jack had been forced to accept? Did Steve know about the spreading curse, about the infection, about what was happening to the land, and to Lilly?

Jack’s jaw tightened. Talking now would be dangerous. He knew that.

Even on the journey here, as they marched instead of charging, Jack had repeated the same thought over and over again: If I stop to talk, I will hesitate. And hesitation was something he could not afford. Not now. Not when everything was already on the edge.

The idea of the two Alphas fighting had never truly left his mind. It had lingered there like a shadow, something he didn’t want to acknowledge but could never fully escape. A possibility whispered by fate itself. Jack hated the thought, but at the same time, he feared it might be unavoidable.

“Don’t be unreasonable,” Steve continued, lowering his voice slightly. “Don’t jump to conclusions. I apologise for what those in my pack did. They acted on fear. They jumped to conclusions and nearly caused a disaster that could never have been fixed. And now, Jack, you’re about to do the same thing.”

Steve took a step forward, careful not to cross the invisible line between the packs.

“With your position, you have no excuse.”

Jack felt it then, the wavering. Not just in himself, but in the space between them. He could see it in Steve’s eyes, and he could feel it behind him as well. Both packs were restless now. Murmurs spread quietly, sharp whispers carried by heightened hearing.

Strike first.

Don’t let them take the advantage.

If they attack us, we attack back.

Whether it was instinct, fear, or the sheer pressure of facing another Alpha pack, something was stirring. The longer this dragged on, the worse it would become.

Jack remained silent.

Steve watched him closely, reading that silence for what it was.

“Your silence is quite clearly your answer,” Steve said at last. “Fair enough.”

Instead of charging forward, Steve raised his hand. The motion alone caused ripples through both groups. Weapons were tightened in grips. Muscles tensed.

“I challenge you, Jack, and your army, to a duel!”

The words struck like thunder.

Shock rippled through both packs. Werewolves glanced at each other, confusion and disbelief clear on their faces. Gary felt his breath catch. A duel? He understood the concept, but hearing it declared here, between two Alpha packs, felt unreal.

Jack’s companions were just as stunned. They knew what a duel meant in theory, but the weight of it now was something else entirely.

“Jack,” Steve continued, his voice firm, “you are a knight before you are a Werewolf. You know the laws of knightly honour. You must accept.”

He spread his arms slightly, as if laying the terms out before them all.

“This is the best option for both of us. Minimal bloodshed between our two packs. Including myself, three of my strongest against three of yours. Whoever loses must obey the victor’s demands.”

There was a pause.

“And I understand that in this case,” Steve added quietly, “that could even mean death.”

In the current era, duels between kingdoms were rare, but not unheard of. They existed to prevent wars from consuming entire populations. When two sides stood on equal footing, a duel could decide everything without drowning the land in blood.

Knights of the Red Wing Kingdom were taught this principle early. Duels were proof of strength, honour, and resolve. They were also a way to rally morale before larger conflicts.

But this, this was the second kind.

A duel with the same weight as war itself.

The kind where lives, futures, and entire packs hung in the balance.

For a duel like this to work, both sides had to believe the other was their equal. And standing there now, it was impossible to say if that was true.

Jack’s group felt confident, but confidence did not erase reality. They were outnumbered. That fact gnawed at the back of every mind present.

“If you lose,” Jack finally said, his voice cutting through the tension, “I will absorb your pack into mine.”

The declaration sent another wave of murmurs through the crowd.

Inside Jack’s mind, a single desperate hope echoed. If there was only one Alpha left... if this ended here... maybe the curse would stop. Maybe the land would heal. Maybe Lilly would be safe.

“Then,” Steve replied calmly, “please, select the three who will represent your pack.”

For a brief moment, Steve smiled.

He already knew his answer.

There was only one way to win this duel. And if he succeeded, he had no intention of killing his brother, only forcing him to turn back.

For the ones he wanted to pick, he had a good idea of their power. He knew their strength. Their resolve. Their skill. Because he had fought by their side before.

Slowly, Steve lifted his hand.

“I choose you three.”

His finger did not point toward his own pack.

It pointed toward the three standing in Jack’s

****