32 The attack - Part 1

"Alpha Sir, thank you for coming on such short notice," Alpha Harry bowed his head, greeting me as soon as I stepped my feet into his territory. He looked disheveled. It was the messiest I've ever seen him. The bags under his eyes were proof of his exhaustion and days of sleepless nights.

"Take me to them," without further ado, I ordered him to take me to the mortuary where the casualties of the attacks were situated. He didn't ask any questions and heeded my words immediately.

As I strode around the area, I noticed how desolate this place had become. The sun was still up and soaring, but no souls were seen in the open. It seemed Alpha Harry had forbidden people to step out of their houses unless it was an emergency. As it was now the beginning of winter, the cold wind that blew across the air made a great contribution to making the atmosphere surrounding the area even more barren and depressing than it already was. The sunshine wouldn't even be able to do much to help lighten their day as they were now engulfed in darkness, countless mournings, and anguish.

We were led deeper into the forest, having to walk a few distances before finally arriving at the mortuary. It was a custom for a pack to build a mortuary and a cemetery away from the people's sight, to help those left behind to move forward, leaving the dead behind in their lives. By not looking at such places, they won't always have to be reminded of the deceased and their hustle will keep their minds busy, soon forgetting about their grief and loss.

Arriving at the aforementioned place, what came into sight was a shabby, archaic building that looked like it could collapse at any moment. The appearance of the building itself was understandable as it was rarely used, looking at how long the werewolves' lifespan usually is. We could live for as long as a hundred, or even five hundred years, if healthy. I, myself, was still considered a toddler in the werewolf world. Yet the people had no choice but to obey me considering the power I held. It would be when someone dared to challenge me and succeeded in taking my life, that they were able to take my title as the Supreme Alpha, the strongest among werewolves.

Alpha Harry opened the door to the building, allowing me to head to the other side of the building. As soon as we were inside, we were met with the bodies of the dead. The decomposing of the bodies created bad odors all throughout the building, causing great disturbance to my heightened sense of smell. My hand automatically moved to cover my nose, a futile attempt to keep me from breathing in the awful stench. It was a scent that I'll never get used to smelling no matter how many times I've smelt it before. Even Andrew, who was behind me, ran out of the door as soon as he smelled it and puked out his guts, ferociously. A not so nice addition to the scent already floating here.

"How many of them are here?" The first and second floors were full of corpses, leaving only the third floor, the last floor of the building, empty. And these were only corpses from two to four days before. The rest of the casualties were already buried after confirming that they were no longer alive.

"There are forty-two of them here and the total of the casualties is one hundred and thirty-seven lives," he answered in a low voice, tears threatening to escape from his eyes.

I pulled out the cloth that was covering one of the bodies, examining the scar that was still visible on his pale and bloated body. A few scars caused by clawed attacks were seen all over his body. It was clear that this man was one-sidedly attacked by the rogues. He was attacked mercilessly. His skin was ceaselessly scratched by its claws until he could no longer heal himself because of the immense amount of blood he had lost. There was only one hand that remained and no legs, vehemently detached from his body. A few bones were also seen broken, presumably by the vicious kicks of the rogues.

"Who was he?" I asked Alpha Harry, wondering how this man could be beaten so badly. He didn't answer my question right away. Only after a few seconds of silence did he answer.

"...my Beta," the tears that were previously threatening to come out, could no longer be held and now were incessantly streaming out of his eyes. His answer surprised not only me, but all of my warriors that were present in the building. There was nothing that I could do except give him a little pat on the shoulders and have me and the others lower our heads as a sign of respect to the deceased.

I hinted at Andrew to take him out of the building so that he could calm himself. I have heard a few stories about how close he was to his Beta, which made it even more unbearable for him to lose such a precious someone. As if losing almost half of his pack members was not enough, he had to lose his Beta, who was his most trusted friend. It was an unimaginable amount of pain that he had to endure.

How could this happen? His Beta, who was second in command and also the second strongest in the pack, was so easily killed by rogues? Just how unbelievably strong have those rogues become? I examined the rest of the corpses and realized they all had similar wounds, but were not as savagely murdered as the Beta. As far as it goes, there were several broken bones and clawed wounds, but the bodies were still intact. It was coherent if someone said that the rogues that killed Beta had a personal grudge to have them toy around with his body so ruthlessly.

This time, no hearts were taken like the previous attacks that had happened around us. It was as if the purpose of this attack was purely to kill the people, which, in any case, needs to be questioned further.

"Alpha Luke," a man I've never seen called out, not forgetting to bow his head down. "I'm Flint, the pack's third in command."

Taking in his appearance, there was not much of a difference between how he and Alpha Harry looked. But it seemed that he was a little calmer and lucid than Alpha Harry, who was currently on the ground, still crying his heart out. No matter how much of a man someone is, losing someone is always hard.

"If you are done examining the corpses, allow me to take you to another place. A mortuary is not the best place to talk," he offered politely.

"That will be appreciated," I nodded and covered the bodies the same way as to how they were before. Walking out of the dreary building, the awful scent still lingered on my nose but was slowly disappearing as we walked further away, which I was thankful for. It was not only me who felt disturbed by the smell, but the wolf inside me was also disturbed by it, as he was growling continuously as soon as he smelled it, and that was annoying me.

After several minutes of walking, we were led into a building which I assumed was Alpha Harry's house, as it was better looking than the rest of the houses in the area. Taking a seat on the sofa, I wasted no time and went straight into questioning him about the attack.

"Tell me everything that happened," I demanded, "Without leaving anything behind."

"The attacks... it was getting better. Everything was under control, there were lesser attacks, and if there was one, our warriors were able to defeat all of them with ease," he stopped mid-explaining, as if readying himself before going deeper into the story. "It was the first day of the week. That was when everything started to worsen. The rogues—they came back. But they were unusually bigger and stronger. It was as if their strength doubled or even tripled from their initial strength."

"All of them?" I asked.

"No," he shook his head, "There were a few who didn't change, but most of them were stronger."

"Have you ever fought with the transformed ones?"

"No, I haven't. I only happened to fight with ordinary rogues, not the stronger ones."

"What about the casualties? Who are their targets?"

"I must assume it's the warriors," he replied grimly, "They didn't even touch the civilians. There were some unlucky people who happened to encounter them when they attacked, but other than that, it was all the warriors that were killed."

Are they perhaps trying to weaken our force? Civilians are of no use if there is a war, but warriors will be a great strength for us as they were trained to fight. But what about the previous attacks? It was like these two attacks held two different purposes. One was to attack civilians and take their hearts, while another was to weaken our force by killing warriors.

Nonetheless, both were a threat to our kind. But it would be more of a headache if those two attacks were from two different groups of rogues. Let's just hope for the best that they were of the same group. That way, it would be easier to wipe them all at once.

"How many of your warriors are left?"

"Approximately fifty warriors. Among them, there were fifteen injured, while the rest were fine."

That was a very worrying number of warriors. Being one of the biggest packs in Wonsvile, such numbers of men wouldn't be sufficient to defend their entire territory. Ignoring this might throw them into the pit of death.

"I will send two hundred more of my men to be stationed here," I said to Flint, at the same time ordering Andrew to do his job.

"Thank you for your help, Sir," he bowed his head and inquired, "What do we have to do now?"

"Now... we wait," I replied. "And when the time comes—we hunt."