My Werewolf System

Chapter 1574: The End of the Alpha

The fight was over. The mountain had grown silent again, save for the faint whistling of the wind and the soft crackle of stone breaking apart under its own weight. It was finished, Rogan’s strength was gone, the monstrous power that had once made him untouchable fading with every breath he took. His body had already reverted back to its human form, frail and battered, blood streaking his chest. The great Alpha who had once ruled his pack now looked small against the ruin around him.

His Luna, the one he had trusted most to fight at his side, was gone. Her lifeless body lay near the foot of the cliff, her white eyes dimmed, her presence completely still.

The only thing Rogan had left now were the remaining members of his pack.

All around the edges of the shattered camp, shapes began to emerge, men and women, their eyes reflecting confusion, fear, and disbelief. They had started to return, drawn by the sound of battle and the rumbling that had shaken their home to its core. Yet, even as they arrived, none of them dared to move closer.

They could see Jack standing firm, the warhammer still planted in the earth beside him. They could see Steve, half-shifted, his claws stained with blood. Between them lay Rogan, the once-unshakable Alpha, brought low.

None of the pack looked ready to step in. Even those who might have once sworn loyalty to Rogan now hesitated. They understood, whether through instinct or fear, that the fight was already over.

Even if any of them had wanted to save him, how could they? How could they face the two who had done what no one thought possible, defeating Rogan, their leader, their Alpha?

Dust settled slowly across the battlefield as Steve stepped forward. His breath heavy, but his expression was steady. He stood over Rogan, who was barely breathing, blood pooling beneath his back. The wound Jack had dealt him was a fatal one, deep enough that the ground itself was stained dark red.

“It didn’t have to be this way, Rogan,” Steve said quietly. His voice wavered slightly, but his eyes didn’t leave the man before him. “It really didn’t. The others... they didn’t have to die. No one had to. We could have worked something out with the Redwing Kingdom Pack. We didn’t have to turn this into a war between packs.”

He crouched down, his voice low but clear enough for those nearby to hear.

“Even though both of us come from different packs, we share the same blood, the same pain. We all fight against the same struggles that follow us everywhere. Do you really think we’re that weak, that the only way we can live is by giving in to what our instincts tell us? Even if we couldn’t stop ourselves, there’s always another way. Always another choice. But instead, you made this... you made this the only path left.”

Rogan’s chest rose and fell unevenly. His eyes flickered open, the red in them now faint. He didn’t speak. Whether it was because of the pain or because he had no answer left to give, Steve couldn’t tell. His breathing was shallow, and each exhale came with a wet rasp.

Jack stepped closer, his warhammer now slung across his back. He glanced from Rogan to Steve and then down at the wounded Alpha. “What happens now?” Jack asked. “When you take him out... what happens to the rest of them?”

Steve didn’t look up as he answered. “From the stories I’ve heard, if I were part of the same pack and challenged him in a proper duel, I’d become the new Alpha and take control of everyone here. That’s how I thought this would go when I first challenged him.”

He paused, his hand tightening slightly. “But since I left, and now I’ve come back from another pack... if I kill him like this, they’ll become Omega Werewolves. A broken pack with no Alpha. They’ll be leaderless. Lost.”

Jack nodded slightly, understanding the weight behind the words.

“This is why having you here helps,” Steve continued. “You can bring them into your own pack, at least until they choose what to do next. Maybe they’ll want to stay together, maybe they’ll join the Redwing Kingdom fully. Either way, they’ll have a home again.”

Jack’s lips curved into a faint smile. “You don’t even have to ask,” he said. “Of course I’ll take them in.”

Steve nodded in gratitude. His gaze returned to Rogan. He knelt down beside him, lowering himself slowly until he was eye level with the dying man.

He placed a hand beneath Rogan’s head, gently lifting it off the ground, holding it almost like one would cradle a wounded child. His palm trembled slightly, the warmth of life fading beneath his fingers. Never in his life had Steve imagined this moment, that he would be the one holding Rogan like this, that he would be the one to end it.

From the very beginning, when he had first escaped captivity and found this place, Rogan had been the one who offered him safety. Back then, Steve had been nothing, lost, broken, hunted. The world had been cruel, and he trusted no one, not even his own blood.

But Rogan had been different. Rogan had offered him a place to belong.

It was here, under Rogan’s protection, that Steve had found purpose again. The camp had given him a reason to stand, to fight, to believe that Werewolves could be more than what the world saw them as.

And now that very man lay dying before him.

“This is painful for me,” Steve whispered. “It always was. Even when we were fighting, I kept hoping it wouldn’t come to this.” He swallowed hard. “The truth is... you were the closest thing I had to family. Almost like a father.”

Jack stood silently a few paces away, saying nothing. The other Werewolves watched from the edges, none daring to move or speak.

Steve took a deep breath, transforming his right hand. Brown fur spread along his arm, claws extending as his muscles tensed. He placed his clawed hand over Rogan’s chest, just slightly to the left, right above his heart.

It was the cleanest way. For a Werewolf, destroying the heart was one of the only sure methods, either that or the head. Their bodies could heal from almost anything, but not from that.

He didn’t want to make it messy. Rogan didn’t deserve that.

Rogan’s body trembled. He lifted one hand, weakly gripping Steve’s wrist. For a second, Steve froze, unsure if he should continue. Then he felt it, a faint, almost invisible nod.

With tears beginning to form in his eyes, Steve thrust his clawed hand straight through Rogan’s chest. The sound was sharp, final. His claws pierced through flesh, bone, and heart. Rogan gasped softly, blood spilling from his mouth as his eyes met Steve’s one last time.

And then, in a voice so faint it was almost lost to the wind, Rogan spoke his final words.

“We weren’t only hiding from the humans...” he whispered. “Be careful... of the one called Unzoku...”

****

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