Using their speed and the dense shadows of the Dark Forest, Zion and his team moved like ghosts, hidden from sight. Zion, with his midnight-black fur, was practically invisible in the darkness, allowing them to slip past the vampires undetected.
But the task was far from easy. Zion had to keep a constant watch—his sharp eyes tracking both the battlefield and the fortress in the distance to ensure no vampire noticed their approach.
Once they were at a safe distance, the team shifted back into their human forms. Silently, they dressed and pulled on enchanted cloaks woven with concealnt magic, crafted specifically to suppress their presence.
Werewolves might rely on scent to detect intruders, but vampires were different. Their senses were eerily refined, almost like antennae—able to pick up the faintest sounds, the lightest shift in energy.
Zion and his team moved with extre caution. Every breath was shallow, every step calculated. No one dared make a sound. Their survival—and the mission—depended on perfect silence until they reached their target.
After activating the cloaks, Zion and the others moved quickly—ti was against them. The magic woven into the fabric would only last for thirty minutes, fading once the enchantnt wore off. With no ti to spare, they sprinted through the forest, shadows clinging to them like a second skin.
They didn’t attempt to scale the fortress walls from the back; that route was heavily guarded. The vampires had learned from past infiltration attempts and kept vigilant watch over every obvious point of entry.
Instead, Zion led them to a narrow tunnel—a dog hole he had discovered during earlier reconnaissance. It was crude and small, not sothing a proud werewolf would ever consider using. For most of their kind, crawling through dirt like a lowly mutt was unthinkable. They preferred charging head-on into battle over slinking through the earth.
But Zion wasn’t like most werewolves. To him, strategy mattered more than pride. This was just another piece of the plan. Even as Shura, his wolf, snarled in protest, roaring that this act was beneath them, that it was shaful, Zion remained focused. He pushed aside the noise in his head and crawled forward, knowing this was the only way in.
The vampires had never considered sealing off the dog hole—why would they? It was small, insignificant, and beneath their notice. Like the werewolves, they assud no one would be shaless enough to use such a humiliating route. But that oversight was exactly what Zion had counted on.
During the day, while scouting the periter, Zion had secretly widened the tunnel. The original gap was too narrow for soone of his size—he was a large man, and there was no way he would have fit without getting stuck. So he spent ti carefully digging it out, just enough to allow him and his team to crawl through.
Now, with the cloak’s enchantnt ticking down, he was grateful for the foresight. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was effective—and at this mont, that was all that mattered.
After crawling through the tunnel, they split into two groups. One, led by Beta Greg, was tasked with reaching the tal gate to unlock it from the inside. Zion, however, went alone—his mission was different. He had to infiltrate the palace and determine whether the captured werewolves could still be saved.
He sent the rest with Greg for a reason. If sothing went wrong, they’d have a better chance fending off the vampires as a unit. Zion, on the other hand, needed to move quickly and silently, without being slowed down by others. Though several infiltration attempts had failed before, this was the first ti an alpha was involved—and not just any alpha. Zion was powerful enough to take on five vampires at once without losing his ground.
If things went south, he could simply retreat without hesitation or burden. The inner palace was the most dangerous zone—he couldn’t risk anyone else’s life there. And though his warriors were reluctant to let him go alone, Zion silenced their protests with a firm command, using his authority as alpha to make them obey.
While the others carried out their assigned tasks, Zion circled the palace, keeping to the shadows until he spotted the sewer entrance. Despite its na, this "sewer" was more like a tunnel—two ters high and one and a half ters wide, large enough for a man of his size to move through comfortably. It wasn’t ant for waste. In fact, it had been designed as a hidden escape route for nobles during ergencies, which explained its size and location.
Zion had suspected such a passage would exist. He’d studied enough architectural texts to know that most palaces had at least one secret exit—and more often than not, it led to the sewers. He only noticed it thanks to a faint glint of tal behind the thick overgrowth of vines. If not for the faint outline of the barred gate, even he might have missed it.
He carefully pulled back the plants, revealing the entrance—and smiled in satisfaction. But that smile quickly faded. The heavy tal gate was locked. If he forced it open, the noise would echo and risk alerting the nearby vampires. Zion’s jaw tightened as he weighed his next move.
The damned vampires had such exceptional hearing that even if they were on the top floor, they’d be able to hear soone speaking in a normal voice. That’s exactly why, earlier, Zion had used mind-link to communicate with his team instead of speaking aloud—they couldn’t risk being detected.
It was also the reason they shifted back to their human forms at a certain distance before starting the infiltration. In their wolf forms, their breathing was louder and more distinct, and Zion couldn’t take the chance that the vampires might catch even that subtle sound.
Now faced with this predicant, Zion found himself montarily stumped. He gripped the tal gate tightly, weighing his options. Ti wasn’t on his side—he had less than thirty minutes before the magic in the cloak wore off, and once that happened, the vampires would undoubtedly sense their presence.
Boom! Boom!
Boom!
The earth-shattering explosions from the battlefield were so powerful that the shockwaves reached even Zion’s position. He was stunned—he hadn’t expected the werewolves to possess such destructive weapons. Then an idea struck him. As the fourth explosion rocked the ground, he seized the mont and yanked the tal door open with all his strength.
How did he know there would be a fourth blast? He didn’t. He gambled—and this ti, luck was on his side.
At the sa ti, Greg managed to break open the lock on the guardhouse that held the chanism for the main gate. Together with his team, he began pushing the heavy rotating lever, using brute force to crank the tal gate open.
And who was behind the explosions? None other than Alpha Damon himself. As the youngest Alpha had bravely volunteered to lead the infiltration mission alone, Damon couldn’t bring himself to let the young lad down. So, he made the call to use his prized explosives, newly developed by the Draves.
It had cost him a fortune in mana stones to acquire them, and though it pained him deeply to part with such a valuable asset, he used them anyway. This mission was a gamble, and Alpha Damon had placed all his trust in the young Alpha. Now, all he could do was hope the risk would pay off.
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