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The moment the launcher fired, the forest itself seemed to gasp.
It wasn't just sound.
It was pressure.
A ripple that tore through the air and bent the leaves, as if something unnatural had just been unleashed into a place that did not want it.
A massive silver net exploded outward—unfolding midair like a metallic spiderweb, its threads glinting under the fractured moonlight as it shot toward the Hale pack.
"MOVE!" Derek roared.
His voice cut through the chaos like a blade.
Several wolves reacted instantly—leaping, rolling, scattering in practiced instinct. Their bodies blurred with speed, claws tearing through soil, muscles coiling and releasing in perfect synchronization.
But the net—
It was too wide.
Too fast.
And too precise.
Three younger Betas weren't quick enough.
The net crashed down over them.
The moment it made contact—
The silver threads constricted violently.
"AAARGH!"
Their screams tore through the forest.
Smoke hissed from their skin as the silver burned deep, searing through fur and flesh alike. The scent hit instantly—burning, acrid, sickening.
The net tightened further, forcing them to the ground. Their bodies convulsed as the silver dug deeper, locking them in place.
Hunters cheered from the tree line.
"WE GOT THEM!"
"Hold it tight!"
"Don't let them shift out!"
Arthur's eyes sharpened.
"Oh hell no."
He moved.
No hesitation.
No plan.
Just motion.
He sprinted forward, feet tearing into the forest floor, his speed shocking even the wolves beside him.
A hunter immediately raised his rifle.
"DROP THE GUN!" Arthur ordered.
BANG!
The shot rang out.
Arthur twisted mid-run—his body bending in a way that felt almost unnatural. The silver bullet sliced past his shoulder, missing by inches before embedding itself into a tree with a dull thud.
He didn't slow down.
Didn't even flinch.
He dropped low into a slide, dirt kicking up behind him as he reached the edge of the net.
And grabbed it.
The moment his hand touched the silver threads—
For a split second—
Arthur froze.
His fingers tightened.
A faint tremor ran through his arm.
The reaction was subtle.
But it was there.
"…Silver," he muttered under his breath.
Laura saw it.
Derek saw it.
And the hunters—
They saw it too.
One of them laughed loudly.
"Look! Even the kid reacts to silver!"
Another shouted, emboldened.
"Tighten the net! He won't hold it!"
The control cables jerked.
The net constricted again.
The trapped Betas screamed as the silver bit deeper into their skin.
Arthur lowered his head slightly.
His grip tightened.
His knuckles turned white.
For a moment—
It looked real.
Like the silver was affecting him.
Like it burned.
Like it hurt.
Like he was struggling.
Then—
Arthur sighed.
"…You guys really talk too much."
His voice was flat.
Annoyed.
Almost bored.
His head lifted slowly.
His eyes—calm.
Unbothered.
"If silver worked on me," he said, almost casually, "I wouldn't be holding this."
Silence fell.
The hunters faltered.
The wolves froze for just a fraction of a second.
Arthur planted his feet.
And pulled.
The hunters holding the cables blinked.
"Why isn't it tightening?"
Another frowned, panic creeping in.
"Wait…"
Arthur's muscles tensed.
Not dramatically.
Not explosively.
Just enough.
The silver net groaned.
A strained, metallic sound that echoed unnaturally through the forest.
Then—
SNAP.
One of the reinforced cables broke.
The sound was sharp.
Violent.
Impossible.
The hunters froze.
"…What?"
Arthur grinned.
"Let's see how strong this thing really is."
He pulled again.
Harder.
SNAP. SNAP.
Two more cables snapped like overstretched wire.
The net loosened slightly.
The trapped Betas stared at him—shock overriding pain.
"Arthur—!"
"Move," he muttered.
With one final pull—
RRRIP.
The silver net tore open.
Not cut.
Not unraveled.
Torn.
Like it was nothing more than cloth.
The Betas scrambled free instantly, stumbling away, their bodies smoking but alive.
Across the battlefield, hunters stared in disbelief.
"That net is reinforced silver!"
"No human should be able to tear that!"
"…What the hell is he?"
Arthur tilted his head slightly, still holding part of the torn net.
"Silver hurts werewolves."
He gave another small pull.
SNAP.
Two more cables broke.
"But I'm not a werewolf."
Derek, who had just slammed a hunter into a tree hard enough to crack the bark, paused.
Just for a second.
His eyes flicked toward Arthur.
He tore it…
Even werewolves struggled against those nets.
Arthur shook his hand slightly.
"Okay…"
He flexed his fingers once.
"…that one hurt."
Then he cracked his knuckles.
A slow, deliberate sound.
"I'm annoyed."
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Now it's my turn."
He moved again.
Faster.
Sharper.
More direct.
A hunter barely had time to raise his weapon before Arthur closed the distance and drove a punch into his chest, sending him flying backward into another hunter.
Across the battlefield—
Far from the chaos—
Kate Argent lowered her binoculars slowly.
Her lips curled.
Eyes gleaming.
"Well now…"
"That's interesting."
Beside her, Gerard Argent watched in silence.
But his expression had changed.
Darkened.
"That boy just tore a reinforced silver net with his bare hands."
Kate smiled wider.
Predatory.
"I told you he was special."
Gerard turned toward a reinforced steel case behind them.
Heavy.
Sealed.
Breathing—almost.
"Release it."
The two hunters standing guard hesitated.
"Sir… are you sure?"
Gerard didn't even look at them.
"Open it."
His voice dropped.
Cold.
Absolute.
They didn't argue again.
The locks clicked open one by one.
Slow.
Deliberate.
And from inside—
Something moved.
Back on the battlefield—
Arthur had just knocked another hunter unconscious when Laura suddenly grabbed his arm.
"Arthur."
Her voice was tight.
Alert.
"You smell that?"
Arthur inhaled.
At first—
It was normal.
Gunpowder.
Blood.
Burned silver.
But then—
Something else.
Something wrong.
It hit deeper.
Heavier.
Wet fur.
Rotting leaves.
And beneath it all—
Rage.
Pure.
Unfiltered.
Primal.
Arthur's eyes widened slightly.
"…That's not a hunter."
The forest behind the hunters—
Exploded.
Trees snapped like twigs as something massive tore through them. The ground shook with each step as it emerged.
Seven feet tall.
Covered in dark, matted fur.
Its claws gouged deep trenches into the earth as it landed, its weight cracking the soil beneath it.
It rose slowly.
Its body wrong.
Twisted.
Too large in some places.
Too stretched in others.
The creature lifted its head—
And howled.
The sound wasn't just loud.
It was broken.
Layered.
Like multiple voices trying to scream at once.
Not a werewolf.
Not fully.
Something else.
Something forced.
Something made.
One of the Betas whispered, voice shaking.
"…What the hell is that?"
Derek's eyes narrowed.
"I've heard rumors."
His claws extended.
Jaw tightening.
"Hunters experimenting on captured wolves."
Laura stepped forward slightly.
Her own claws sliding out.
"Trying to create weapons."
The creature's glowing yellow eyes scanned the battlefield.
Locked onto the Hale pack.
Predatory.
Hungry.
Then—
It stopped.
Its head tilted.
Slowly.
And its gaze shifted.
Past Derek.
Past Laura.
Straight to—
Arthur.
For a moment—
Everything stilled.
Even the forest seemed to hold its breath.
In the distance—
Gerard smiled.
Cold.
Satisfied.
"Let's see what you do now…"