"She has spoken!" The Moon-Seer's voice echoed off the towering stone arches, ringing clear and resonant through the vast arena.
For several heartbeats, a heavy silence fell over the crowd, as if the sheer weight of her divine declaration was settling into the very bones of everyone present.
Then, the quiet was shattered instantly by a single man.
"You all heard the MOON-SEER!" Aldric's voice boomed across the coliseum.
He was in a roaring good mood—a state of mind that had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he'd just managed to thoroughly embarrass his daughter. That outcome definitely hadn't warmed his heart at all.
He raised his broad arms toward the open sky, a brilliant smile spreading across his face.
He had seen immense potential in the young hybrid today. Given enough time—maybe fifty years or so—the boy would grow into a truly formidable ally.
"THE GODDESS HAS ACCEPTED OUR NEWEST ALPHA! TONIGHT, WE FEAST!"
The moment those words left his mouth, a deafening wave of cheers erupted from the assembled warriors. Joined by the thunderous, tribal rhythm of the drums, the arena transformed into a roaring den of conquerors—like ancient Norse warriors being promised the halls of Valhalla.
Before James could even process the sudden shift, a heavy weight crashed directly onto his back.
"YOU SURVIVED, YOU CRAZY LUNATIC!" Talia squealed, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and nearly tackling him into the dirt.
She ruffled his hair so violently that it instantly morphed into a wild bird's nest. "I totally thought you were leaving this pit on a stretcher!"
Her confidence in his victory had been laughably low, but she wasn't trying to be rude.
She was just brutally honest. She was genuinely thrilled he was still breathing, even if his survival was largely thanks to a ridiculous streak of good luck.
James would have loved to say something sweet in return, but his lungs had other plans.
"Talia—wait—can't… breathe—" His windpipe was currently being crushed in her tight embrace.
Even if his hybrid biology could heal the damage in seconds, the sensation of being actively strangled was not one he particularly enjoyed.
He clawed at her forearms, trying to pry her off.
He didn't get the chance. She leapt off him just as a chorus of gruff, booming voices closed in.
"UP HE GOES!"
Strong, calloused hands hoisted James high into the air, throwing him onto the broad shoulders of two towering vanguards.
The entire crowd roared in approval, slamming their fists against their chests and chanting in unison as they paraded the thoroughly dazed hybrid out of the combat pit and toward the pack's massive tavern.
Up close, the building resembled an ancient, grand hall, but its purpose tonight was unmistakable.
Roaring bonfires crackled within massive iron braziers, casting long, dancing shadows across endless wooden tables piled unnaturally high with roasted meats, crusty breads, and whole kegs of dark, foaming ale.
The thick air was heavy with the rich scents of roasted boar, woodsmoke, and spilled alcohol.
As James was set down, his senses were bombarded by the absolute chaos unfolding around him.
Kael was already deep into his cups, while Toren appeared to be casually throwing an unfortunate wolf through a reinforced glass window.
It was a completely unrestricted, wild party, and James's human sensibilities struggled to process the sheer madness of it all.
Across the room, Nneka was smoothly serving spiced wine to a table of loud, laughing fighters, while Mira was locked in a brutal arm-wrestling match with a hulking warrior.
What truly struck him as he surveyed the hall was the staggering diversity of the crowd.
If a guy were inclined to stare, this place was an absolute paradise.
Left and right, the hall was filled with striking women of every imaginable physique—some boasting massive, sculpted muscles carved for war, others slender and graceful, and several bearing faded, lethal battle scars with fierce pride.
There were bold tomboys, domineering war-captains, and mesmerizing elder mystics.
Their hair was styled in intricate, breathtaking ways—vibrant, flowing braids, sculpted crowns, and elaborate updos reminiscent of ancient royal African traditions long before modern history.
And the colors were mesmerizing: deep obsidian blacks, stark platinum whites, shimmering cyan, and striking indigo.
The variety was wild. James even spotted a few figures with sharp, pointed ears lurking near the shadowy alcoves, their dark, mysterious auras marking them as woodland folk—or what his mind instinctively categorized as Dark Elves.
Selene was there as well, radiating an effortless, feminine grace. She looked stunning in an exquisitely tailored traditional dress, her hair styled in a flawless, regal pattern.
The outfit felt distinctly familiar to James—it mirrored the elegant, sweeping gowns worn by mothers during grand celebrations in Senegalese films he'd seen growing up. He wondered briefly if she shared that lineage, but the thought quickly slipped away.
His senses were completely overloaded. He wasn't a overly horny guy by any stretch of the imagination, but even he couldn't stop his eyes from wandering.
He should have realized just how wild this place was when women who looked like supermodels were considered entirely average by the standards of this hall.
Before he could indulge his stray thoughts any further, a massive, frost-dusted horn filled with dark wine was slammed down onto the wooden table directly in front of him.
"Huh?" James blinked, startled. Was this monstrous drink meant for him?
Before he could even finish the thought, a thunderous chant erupted from the wolves surrounding his table, their voices locking into a single, rhythmic roar:
"DRINK! DRINK! DRINK! DRINK!"
A circle of rowdy warriors slammed their heavy fists against the wood, making the entire table rattle.
Kael, who was clearly on his fourth gallon of the night, leaned in with a wicked, devilish grin that made him look like a demon tempting a saint.
"You did damn well, Newbie. Come on, drink up!"
James held the massive horn in his hands, feeling a wave of nervous hesitation. He noticed subtle, glowing runes carved into the base of the vessel.
"I really don't think I should—"
He didn't get to finish his sentence. Toren Stormclaw leaned over, grinning like a absolute maniac as he caught the bottom of the horn and forcefully tipped it upward.
"Bottoms up, kid!" Toren laughed. James reeked of nervousness, and that was no way to celebrate a victory.
A little alcohol always cleared the mind—the pup would be just fine.
As the liquid flooded his mouth, James tasted a heavy, intoxicating blend of sweet, pine-flavored ale mixed with a rich, velvety wine. It rushed down his throat with a warm, lingering aftertaste.
He had never tasted anything quite like it—it was astonishingly smooth, making him wonder just how long it had been aged.
Across the room, total mayhem was breaking out in every corner. Two massive wolves were arm-wrestling at a neighboring table; one had just snapped the heavy oak slab completely in half, sending wood splinters flying while his opponent burst into booming laughter.
Kaela seemed to be having the time of her life.
"Is that all you've got, big guy?" she taunted Bronn, a triumphant smirk plastered on her face.
She casually chugged another two liters of straight wine as if it were water, entirely unfazed by the potent spirit.
James couldn't help but wonder if her senses were immune to the alcohol.
His own senses, however, were feeling completely fine. Even after inhaling what felt like two liters of high-proof brew, he felt no slurring or dizziness—just a subtle, electric buzz pulsing through his veins.
But it didn't feel like a normal drunkenness; it felt as though the distance between his spirit and the surrounding air was melting away, bringing him closer to nature than he had ever felt before.
"Hell fucking yes! I won!" Kaela roared, slamming Bronn's arm down so hard the broken table splintered into kindling.
"You're paying my tab!"
James silently offered a prayer for Bronn's wallet—Kaela was clearly an absolute menace when she was drinking.
Suddenly, the ambient air in the room began to feel hyper-vibrant to James.
Every candle flame burned with a vivid, prismatic halo, and the faint, glowing spirits floating near the ceiling seemed to multiply, dancing in swirling patterns only he could see.
"Ah, you're starting to feel it, aren't you?" Kael grinned wide, leaning back.
James blinked, struggling to focus on Kael's face. What did he mean?
"Usually it takes a hell of a lot more to affect an Alpha, but my little friend, you are remarkably sensitive to the old forces," Kael chuckled, his golden eyes gleaming.
To James, Kael's expression looked unnervingly like a predator luring prey. A sudden wave of paranoia washed over him. Did I just get drugged?!
"Hey now, don't go making wild assumptions about me! I'm no poisoner," Kael interjected smoothly, laughing at the sudden shift in James's posture.
While Kael couldn't read minds, the sudden spike in James's heart rate, combined with his shifting scent and rigid posture, made his panic painfully obvious.
Damn it, James thought, I really am an open book to these people.
"I'm just saying," Kael explained, his voice starting to sound slightly echoed and distorted in James's ears,
"that wine was aged inside a sacred pocket of the Spirit Realm. It's soaked in concentrated natural mana. It's not enough for a normal wolf to notice right away, but if you drink enough of it…"
Kael paused, watching as James's pupils dilated until his eyes were almost entirely black, glowing with faint, shifting rings of violet and gold.
"…things get very interesting."
"Hey, what's going on?" Toren threw a heavy arm around James's neck, pulling the hybrid against his side like a lifelong buddy.
"Is the pup crossed already?" He sounded genuinely disappointed; if he couldn't spar with the kid in the arena, he'd at least hoped to test his liver. He hadn't realized the boy was such a lightweight.
"Dumbass," Kael scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You tipped the mana-dense reserve down his throat."
"OHHH!" Toren's eyes widened as realization struck him. "Right!"
Because James was hyper-sensitive to even the subtlest shifts in magical energy, consuming a concentrated dose of spirit-aged wine was the equivalent of taking an intense, mystical hallucinogen.
He wasn't in any danger of poisoning his hybrid body, but his spiritual perception was currently blasted wide open—meaning he was likely seeing the hidden layer of the world in full, vibrant color, while his normal human inhibitions completely evaporated into the night air.
When James opened his eyes again, his pupils were completely dilated, shining with a faint, iridescent ring of gold and violet. His aura felt vastly different—wild, unfiltered, and intensely potent.
"That shit was good," James muttered.
With his inhibitions temporarily shattered, his tone carried an unmistakable edge of
arrogance—a raw, dangerous confidence that seemed to radiate off him in waves.
Kael smiled as he felt the sudden shift. That distinct aura... he had felt it briefly during the fight in the arena. So this is what happens when the kid's filters come off.
That was very good to know.
"There you are," Kael said with a sharp grin.
Toren, on the other hand, was practically giddy. The sheer pressure radiating off the hybrid made his blood pump.
Oh yeah, this was 100% the guy who had folded Raze in half. He couldn't wait any longer.
"Come on, let's have some real fun," Toren declared, leaning in with an eager glint in his eyes.
"Let's see if you can handle your liquor—or if you're going to fold on me!"
Toren raised a massive hand into the air, gesturing toward a server passing by. "Bring us the strongest shit you've got! The spirit-aged stuff!"
While the challenge was being issued, the rest of the pack was spread across the chaotic hall.
Roughly thirty feet to their right, Talia was casually beating the ever-living shit out of a warrior who had clearly made the mistake of underestimating her
. Fifty feet away in the main pit, Mira was arm-wrestling wolves twice her size, sending table legs splintering with every victory.
Over near the far end of the long wooden bar, Caius was sitting with Nneka.
A bottle of fine wine rested beside his plate, which was currently stacked with roasted deer meat and nearly ten pieces of cornbread for dessert.
His sweet tooth was clearly getting the better of him tonight, though between bites and his conversation with Nneka, his sharp eyes never fully left James.
As for Rowan, he was completely absent. James hadn't caught all the details, but it had something to do with tonight being a full moon—something about rare botanical research, or perhaps a unique spirit flower that only bloomed under this specific lunar alignment.
It was only now, through the haze of magic-infused alcohol, that James realized the date of his initiation match had been intentionally synced with the arrival of the full moon.
He couldn't even begin to imagine how much worse the pack's feral energy would have been if the moon had been fifteen days away.
Not that he could dwell on it right now.
The spark was lit when Toren slammed two massive, ancient-looking stoneware jugs onto the table. "A real test, pup! Jug for jug until one of us hits the floor!"
James didn't hesitate. "You're on."
A surrounding wolf caught wind of Toren's challenge, and within seconds, the word spread through the tavern like wildfire.
"DRINK! DRINK! DRINK! DRINK!"
The mob wanted to see how much the young hybrid could truly handle. The entire hall erupted into a rhythmic roar.
Warriors pounded their calloused fists against the heavy oak tables, chanting their names in a booming cadence that vibrated right through the floorboards.
Jug after jug disappeared.
By the time they reached bottle number forty-six, Toren wiped his mouth, his breathing heavy as he finished another liter of 100-year-old spirit wine.
"Light fucking work!" {J}
Toren grinned through the buzz, though his eyes were slightly unfocused.
James threw his head back and chugged down four liters of straight, concentrated wine in a single breath.
The sheer volume and potency would have instantly killed any regular human, but to James's hyper-active hybrid biology, it felt like drinking sparkling water infused with a high-voltage charge.
Oh yeah, he was feeling that high now.
As Toren reached out to uncork bottle number forty-seven, James's glowing eyes drifted toward the center of the tavern.
There stood the master vat—a massive, iron-hooped wooden barrel containing over six hundred liters of high-potency, spirit-infused ale meant to supply the entire feast.
The crowd went dead silent for a fraction of a second as James stood up, staggering slightly, and walked straight over to the giant barrel.
"He wouldn't..." someone whispered in the crowd.
Before the doubt could even settle, James grabbed the heavy iron handles of the colossal barrel and, with a surge of terrifying strength, ripped the entire vat off its wooden stand.
Across the room, Kaela paused mid-chug, a proud, wicked smirk spreading across her face as she watched the sheer audacity of the move.
The crowd lost its mind. The chanting hit a deafening crescendo as James tipped the gigantic barrel overhead.
Realizing his human mouth couldn't catch the massive torrent of liquid rushing out, James didn't hesitate—his body surged with power as he underwent a partial, forced transformation into his full wolf form.
His jaw expanded, heavy silver-and-black fur erupted across his torso, and his razor-sharp fangs locked over the wooden rim.
In his beast form, he caught every single cascading liter of ale, chugging the entire lake of alcohol down like an absolute champ.
The liquid vanished into his system in a tidal wave of golden foam. When the last drop cleared, he slammed the empty, massive barrel down onto the stone floor, shattering the wood into splinters.
A second later, the divine aura flared, and James shifted back into his human form, standing tall amidst the wreckage. He felt lightheaded, entirely buzzed, and completely unstoppable.
Six hundred liters of spirit ale had just flooded his system—his high was only just beginning.
The tavern exploded into pure bedlam.
"HE DRANK THE ENTIRE BARREL!"
"LIKE THOR HIMSELF! A TRUE WARRIOR OF THE MOON!"
Strong hands immediately reached out, hoisting the victorious hybrid onto their shoulders and lifting him high above the crowd.
Roars of admiration and booming laughter filled the rafters as wolves raised their mugs to the newborn Alpha who had just drunk the hall dry.
Down below, Toren looked at his own half-empty bottle, feeling a mix of disbelief and intense excitement. He had lost the drinking game—and his pride stung just a bit—but his eyes gleamed with wild anticipation.
Next time, Toren thought with a grin, raising his mug toward the elevated hybrid, next time, I'm taking him down.
A/N Should be an easy 2.8k.
This chapter came a bit later, as some of you may notice, i finally got the art done for the cover of the story.
On a side note, unless stated otherwise, for the next 2 to 3 ish arc, just assume Aldric is the stronguest living entity there, unless stated otherwise.
Also, he wasnt drugged, it just his inhibition are off, that doesnt mean he finna do some bad shit, while Normal James will see a bald man and probably think its shiny, this one might just rub the head, long story short, he wouldnt do anything James wouldnt.
Please remind me if i forget, but i should have some art for all the various type of women he saw.