Inside the Alpha’s Hut, Myron stood before a glowing, rune-inscribed stone tablet. This was his Stats Interface, a tangible manifestation of his role as the lord of the Primal Hunting Grounds. The faint hum of the tablet’s energy vibrated through his fingertips as he placed his hand on it, the screen flaring to life with details of his territory and himself.

  Name: Myron Bloodclaw

  Territory Name: The Primal Hunting Grounds

  Population: 5 (Initial Pack Members)

  Morale: High (+10% Combat Efficiency due to Moonlit Den and Howling Totem Buffs)

  Economy: Basic (Food and leather income from Hunting Grounds; Bloodstone Forge in early production phase)

  Military: Moderate (Units are small in number but high in quality, with strong synergy potential)

  As he swiped through the interface, another section appeared: Specialization Paths. His future evolution as a Lycanthrope Lord lay in his hands. Myron’s arrogant smirk deepened as he read through the options. Each path promised power, but each in its own way.

  Pack Alpha

  Theme: Leadership and synergy.

  Focus: Buffs for units and coordinated strength.

  Abilities:

  Feral Roar (Active): Instantly boosts attack speed and morale of all nearby units.

  Upgrade Path: Add a fear debuff to enemies or extend its range across the entire battlefield.

  Alpha’s Dominance (Passive): A passive aura increasing stats for all units under his command.

  Ultimate Ability: Howl of Unity – Temporarily makes all units unkillable and increases movement speed.

  “A true leader’s power is in his pack. Interesting…” Myron muttered, though the idea of relying too much on others made him pause.

  Primal Berserker

  Theme: Unleashing raw destructive force.

  Focus: High attack power and sheer combat dominance.

  Abilities:

  Lunar Form (Active): Transform into a monstrous werewolf, dealing massive melee damage.

  Upgrade Path: Boost health regeneration or enhance AoE attacks.

  Feral Roar: Gains bonus attack power when used in this specialization.

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  Ultimate Ability: Blood Frenzy – Temporarily unleashes a berserk state, dramatically increasing attack power and speed for both Myron and nearby units.

  Myron’s fingers lingered over this option, his pulse quickening. “Pure strength. No reliance. Just domination. Tempting…”

  Spirit Shaman

  Theme: Connection to the moon’s spiritual power and support for his pack.

  Focus: Strategic buffs, control over nighttime combat, and mystical prowess.

  Abilities:

  Lunar Form: Gains enhanced speed and utility, making him a deadly hybrid in combat.

  Alpha’s Dominance: Modified to provide defensive bonuses during nighttime.

  Ultimate Ability: Lunar Eclipse – Shrouds the battlefield in darkness, blinding enemies and empowering allies for the duration of nighttime combat.

  The allure of mystical control and the potential to manipulate the battlefield drew his attention briefly. Still, it didn’t align with his innate hunger for immediate, visceral dominance.

  Myron’s fingers hovered over the glowing options. Each choice radiated power, pulling him in different directions. The Pack Alpha path promised unity and loyalty; the Primal Berserker, unparalleled personal strength; and the Spirit Shaman, the ability to manipulate the battlefield to his advantage.

  His lips curled into a wolfish grin. “A true leader doesn’t wait for others to win his battles,” he murmured. His mind was made up. Primal Berserker aligned with his arrogance, his hunger for power, and his desire to dominate the battlefield through his own strength.

  The moment he selected Primal Berserker, the tablet flared brighter, bathing the room in crimson light. A deep, guttural growl rumbled in Myron’s throat as a surge of energy coursed through him, primal and raw. His muscles tensed, fibers stretching like they were preparing for something greater. A sharp ache bloomed in his jaw, the phantom sensation of fangs pressing against his gums. His nails dug into his palms, itching, as if his claws were just beneath the surface, waiting to emerge.

  His senses sharpened further—the scents of his pack outside became clearer, the distant howl of a lone wolf carried a meaning he could almost decipher. The steady heartbeat of something small—a rabbit or a fox—thumped in his ears, the rhythmic pulse calling to the predator within. Heat rolled through his veins, thick and heavy, awakening something primal, something more than human.

  He exhaled slowly, steadying himself. Not yet.

  The shift was there, lurking just beneath the surface, but he wouldn’t let it take over. Not until the moment was right.

  The interface shifted again, showing a detailed progression tree. At the core of it glimmered his ultimate ability, Blood Frenzy, a promise of unstoppable ferocity. Below it, his current stats pulsed, reflecting the raw power he was beginning to tap into:

  Attack Power: +15%

  Health Regeneration: Moderate during combat.

  Shape-Shifting Bonus: Lunar Form’s melee attacks gain AoE cleave damage.

  As he stepped out of the Alpha’s Hut, his pack turned to face him. The air shifted—thicker, charged with something raw and untamed. Ragnar’s sharp gaze assessed him, his golden eyes narrowing as if weighing whether Myron was now truly worthy of leading. Kaela tilted her head, her nostrils flaring slightly, as though she could scent the change in him, her expression both curious and knowing. Thoran let out a low whistle, his usual smirk tinged with something closer to respect.

  Brynna remained silent, her piercing stare locked onto him, watching, evaluating.

  But it was Fenris who reacted the strongest. His lips curled back, revealing sharp teeth in a grudging snarl—not quite a challenge, but not an acceptance either. His claws flexed, muscles tensed, his beast’s instincts warring with his pride. A lesser leader might have taken a step back. Myron did not. He met Fenris’s gaze head-on, and for a brief, charged moment, the pack held its breath.

  Then, Fenris let out a rough exhale, his shoulders loosening just slightly. Not submission. Not yet. But acknowledgment.

  “Prepare yourselves,” Myron said, his voice carrying the weight of authority. “This land is ours. But the world beyond it… I’ll make sure it remembers the name Myron Bloodclaw.”

  The pack howled, their voices rising into the moonlit sky as the primal energy of their new Alpha surged through them. A storm was coming—and Myron was ready to unleash it.