My Werewolf System

Chapter 1551: An Old Story

Even though none of them were sure whether Steve’s story would give them the answers they were looking for, or explain why they had been sent to this strange time, the three of them listened carefully. What they truly wanted to understand were the struggles of the Werewolves who came before them. The history of their kind, the roots of their suffering, and how it had all led to the world they knew.

Steve began his story from the moment he split from Jack. He had taken a large number of Werewolves who shared his ideals and decided to return to the old camp, the place he had once called home.

Finding it hadn’t been difficult. The camp was located in the same region as before, high in the mountains. The peak wasn’t the tallest among its neighbors, but there was something unique about it: a constant mist, a smoky ring of cloud that circled its middle like a shroud. It obscured the true summit, hiding what lay above.

For ordinary humans, the climb would have been impossible. But for Werewolves, with their endurance, strength, and claws sharp enough to dig into stone, it was nothing. They scaled the steep cliffs with ease, pulling themselves higher and higher until they broke through the mist.

That was when the hidden stronghold revealed itself.

The top of the mountain wasn’t just a peak, it was a hollowed plateau, carved into a natural basin. It wasn’t like a cave tunneling into the rock, but rather as if a huge piece of the mountain had been cut away, leaving a wide open space.

Sunlight poured through from above, illuminating a sprawling settlement built into the stone itself. Massive rock formations formed natural walls and terraces, with sleeping quarters carved into their sides. There were training areas, watch posts, and wide open grounds perfect for sparring or meetings.

It was a kingdom built in the sky.

When Steve and his group arrived, the area was alive with movement. Dozens upon dozens of Werewolves turned their heads, watching as strangers stepped into their territory.

There were far more of them than before, at least two hundred, by Steve’s count. It was proof that the pack had been growing strong during his absence.

As they advanced deeper, the ground beneath their feet shifted from rough stone to a smoother, circular clearing. It resembled a crude arena, surrounded by steps carved into the rock where the other Werewolves stood, staring down at the newcomers.

At the center, on a raised ledge of stone, sat the Alpha of the pack.

His name was Rogan.

Even seated, he was an imposing sight. His limbs were long and sinewy, built like a predator that could spring at any moment. Strands of unkempt hair fell over his shoulders, split into two jagged parts. Deep shadows rested beneath his eyes, and though his face was lined with exhaustion, his gaze was sharp enough to cut stone.

Steve felt a wave of familiarity and tension at once. So it’s still him.

‘There’s more of them now,’ Steve thought as he looked around. ‘But what’s the point of gathering so many if you’re just going to hide up here? Rogan, you’ve built an army, and you’re wasting it while others suffer below.’

The Alpha’s voice echoed through the arena. “I didn’t expect to see you again, Steve.”

He rose slightly from his stone throne, his expression unreadable. “You used to argue with us every day about what we should do. Eventually, I gave you permission to leave. You left as an Omega, free to make your own choices. Yet here you are again, and with a group of your own.”

Steve took a slow breath and lowered himself to one knee in respect. The Werewolves who had followed him did the same, the instinct to bow before an Alpha almost impossible to suppress.

“Everyone here,” Steve said, his voice steady, “is like us. They are Werewolves who’ve been rejected by the world. They have nowhere to go. They’ve been betrayed by humans, hunted by those they once trusted. The only ones they can rely on are others like themselves.”

He lifted his head, meeting Rogan’s gaze. “We wish to join your pack, not to challenge your authority, but to make this place a true home for our kind. To give the lost and the broken somewhere to belong.”

The arena was silent for a long time. Rogan studied him, the misty wind whistling through the hollow behind them.

Steve didn’t know what to expect. After all, the last time they had met, Rogan had been the one to exile him, stripping him of his position and making him an Omega. Perhaps the Alpha had always known this moment would come, that Steve would return out of necessity rather than pride.

Finally, Rogan spoke. “I see.”

He stood, stepping down from his throne. The other Werewolves instinctively made way as his presence filled the air, a quiet but commanding weight that made every heartbeat slow.

“I will accept them into the pack,” Rogan said at last. His tone carried no warmth, but no anger either, just finality. “And you as well, Steve. But understand this: once you are part of my pack, you are no longer an Omega. You will follow my rules and abide by the structure of this family. There will be no exceptions.”

Steve lowered his head once more. “Thank you. I don’t seek power, only peace, for myself, and for them.”

He turned his eyes briefly toward the group behind him, those who had followed him through fire and blood to reach this place.

“All I’ve ever wanted,” he said quietly, “is a better life for those who lived like us.”

****

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