My Werewolf System - Chapter 1573: The Weight of the Pack
Chapter 1573: The Weight of the Pack
The Luna had made her decision in that final moment. Rather than striking Steve or defending herself, rather than even trying to save her own life, she had chosen something else entirely. She had used her last breath to throw her spear at Jack, sealing his fate, or so she thought. The strike had been a success, but it came at the cost of her own life.
Immediately after the spear hit its target, Jack’s body froze solid, trapped in the spear’s white light. Rogan wasted no time. He lifted his enormous arm high above his head, and as he did, the Luna’s body dropped lifelessly to the ground below. The sound of her body hitting the earth echoed through the battlefield, and even Steve felt his stomach twist at the hollow thud.
Then Rogan moved. His massive frame leaned forward, the ground trembling beneath his every step. Jack, still frozen in place, toppled over like a statue, falling onto his back.
‘No… no, I can’t stop this!’ Steve thought, his mind racing as his eyes widened. ‘He’s going to hit him directly, there’s no time to move, this will be a clean hit!’
Rogan brought both hands together above his head, his thick muscles tensing beneath layers of bone. The spikes that jutted out from his forearms began to stretch, fusing together into several enormous, spear-like points. With his full weight behind it, he swung both arms down with a roar.
The attack hit with devastating force. The massive blow crashed into the ground where Jack lay, shaking the entire mountain top. The impact shattered the stone surface beneath them, ripping apart the ground and sending a thunderous crack through the air.
Every Werewolf nearby was thrown to their knees. The homes and shelters built into the cliffs crumbled, sliding down the slopes as the foundations gave way. Half of the mountain itself seemed to cave inward from the sheer power of the strike.
And then came the energy. It burst outward from the crater like a wave, sweeping across the remaining structures and tearing through what was left of the camp. The mountain trembled violently, as though it too feared the Alpha’s wrath.
Steve, lying on the ground, stared ahead through the dust, his throat dry. “No… no… no!” he shouted, his voice breaking as he tried to run toward the destruction.
The air filled with smoke and falling debris. Every heartbeat felt like it was dragging him further into despair, until the haze began to clear. Through the storm of dust and broken stone, a silhouette appeared.
Jack was still standing.
When the smoke lifted, Steve saw him clearly, blood dripping down his arms, his armor cracked and torn. Bone spikes had pierced through his shoulder and forearm, one even grazing his ribs, but he was still alive. In front of him, the greatsword gleamed faintly, raised high above his head like a wall of iron.
He had used it to block the worst of the blow.
Jack’s breathing was ragged, his entire body trembling, yet his aura hadn’t faded. If anything, it was burning brighter than ever, swirling around him with renewed intensity. Energy surged along his arms, drawn from the weapon still embedded in his grip, and from the warhammer that pulsed faintly by his side.
“You have no idea…” Jack’s voice rumbled, echoing across the shattered ground. His eyes locked onto Rogan. “You have no idea what this warhammer truly represents!”
Lifting the weapon once more, Jack swung it upward with every ounce of strength left in him. Blue energy burst around the hammer, doubling its size in an instant. The surge hit Rogan’s arm like lightning, shattering the bone plating and flinging his massive limbs aside. Rogan stumbled backward, the shockwave pushing him off balance.
For the first time, the great Alpha looked unsure.
Jack didn’t stop there. He charged forward, his feet pounding into the cracked earth, each step leaving behind a crater of its own. There was no longer a Luna to throw another spear, nothing to stop him now.
Leaping high into the air, Jack drew the hammer back behind his head, gripping it with both hands. The weapon’s energy hummed, vibrating through his arms, almost alive.
“This warhammer carries the strength of every single person in my pack!” Jack shouted. His voice was fierce, filled with pride and fury. “You’re not fighting against me alone, you’re fighting against all of us!”
The reason Jack despised using the hammer flashed through his mind. It wasn’t because it was heavy or slow, it was because of what it took to use it. When he drew upon the weapon’s power, it didn’t just use his energy. It borrowed it from everyone connected to him.
Every Werewolf in his pack, no matter where they were, would suddenly feel their strength drain away, whether they were training, eating, or even walking the city streets. Somewhere, someone could be mid-conversation and simply faint, or perhaps taking a step down a flight of stairs before the world went dark. The thought always made Jack uneasy.
But right now, he didn’t have the luxury of hesitation. The pack’s power flowed into him, unstoppable, unyielding, unending.
Jack swung the hammer down with everything he had.
The instant it hit Rogan’s chest, the sound ripped through the sky like thunder. The bone armor covering Rogan’s torso exploded apart. Cracks raced across his ribs as the skull-like plating shattered. Blood erupted from his mouth, splattering the rocks below.
Jack kicked off Rogan’s chest, pushing himself higher into the air, his body twisting as he brought the hammer above his head again. The weapon gleamed brighter than ever, vibrating with energy that could barely be contained.
Then, descending through the air, Jack swung the warhammer a second time.
The strike connected with Rogan’s bare chest, and the entire mountain shook. The energy from the hammer poured straight through Rogan’s body, traveling down into the earth itself.
Rogan’s massive form convulsed as his body began to shrink. The bones receded, cracking and folding inward. His fur dulled. His body slammed into the ground so hard that a wave of dust rose up, sweeping across the battlefield.
Jack landed beside him, his feet sliding slightly as he steadied himself. He drove the hammer into the ground, leaning against it for support. His breathing was heavy, his shoulders rising and falling. It had been years since he’d drawn on the hammer’s true strength, and the exhaustion hit him all at once.
Slowly, the transformation faded from his body. The black fur disappeared as his human form returned. His armor was scuffed, his arms trembling, but he was still standing.
“If there’s one thing Werewolves are…” Jack said through labored breaths, “it’s resilient. You’re still alive after all that.”
He turned his head toward the fallen Alpha.
Rogan’s chest had caved in. His arms lay mangled at odd angles, bones exposed where they’d been torn apart. His body was no longer healing. The strength that had once defined him was gone.
Steve stepped forward, staring down at the broken figure. “Let me be the one to finish him,” he said quietly. His fists were clenched, eyes burning with resolve. “This wasn’t something you were meant to be involved in. This was our pack’s issue. I need to be the one to carry his blood on my shoulders.”
Jack looked at him for a long moment, the hammer still resting in the dirt between them. Then, silently, he nodded.
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