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The City of Milk and Honey had very beautiful buildings.

Each one of them was a testament to the architectural brilliance of the Giant Shadow Werewolves.

In one of its primary official buildings, erected high with pillars so thick that five people hugging it would make its circumference, a young boy that looked about the age of fifteen strolled through the long, broad corridors.

Every kiss of his leather slippers against the ground was loud, evidence of his hurried steps.

He had only just arrived a day ago, and the Elders had summoned him.

As he walked through the corridors, some people around him whispered to themselves at the sight of him.

This, he took notice of, but intentionally paid no mind.

After all, he did not consider their wild conversations to be his business in any way.

Although he did have an idea of the subject of their conversations, he intentionally decided to let it go.

With a stoic look on his face, his chin high, and his chest out, he strode through the corridors to arrive at a large iron door.

This door, like the rest of this place, was very high and very huge.

This door, like most, was special. In the case that only a Werewolf of the Pack could push it open.

Recognition of bloodlines was one of its many functions.

It was yet another method for ensuring the security of information belonging to the pack.

After all, for one reason or another, they were still foreigners in the city.

Victor was young. He was just fifteen. However, he had been blessed with really good genes.

His frame was sturdy and tall. His shoulders were broad, and although he still carried a few features of his age on his face, it was clear that he would grow into a fine man.

However, unexpected circumstances had pushed into his life.

With the death of his father, the Alpha and Pack Master of the Pack and City, he now had important duties to fulfill.

If this were a normal Werewolf pack, the position of Alpha would be accessible to any person who thought himself worthy of the position.

However, this was not a normal pack.

Only those of the bloodline were eligible for the position.

Meaning, his uncle's, aunties, brothers, and sisters were all vying for the position of Alpha.

Politics, even one such as this with its rigid rules, still involves dirty play from time to time.

In fact, the elders considered it a part of a person's strength if they could outwit their opponent for the position of Alpha.

Unlike most of the family, Victor was not at all interested in becoming Alpha.

All he wanted was a peaceful, quiet life with no disturbance whatsoever.

But the fate of his birth would not leave him alone.

After all, within the family, he was currently the person with the purest bloodline.

In fact, he had the purest bloodline ever recorded in the history of the pack.

For communication with the Primordial Beast and the use of its power, bloodline was very important.

Naturally, whether he wanted it to happen or not, it meant that he was considered a serious threat by the others who sought the position of Alpha.

Fortunately for him, these were very trying times, not just for the whole world but for the pack as well.

The Giant Shadow Werewolves were in need of mending their relationship with their rival pack, the Iron Back Werewolves.

While others shunned this task, Victor saw it as an opportunity to escape the problems of the pack.

Besides, he did not consider the task that much of a hassle.

As long as it would give him the peaceful life he desired, he did not mind one bit.

Even though it meant that he would be selling his body in matrimony to another werewolf pack,

He did not care one bit.

All Victor ever wanted was to live a life of peace, void of trouble.

However, right now, trouble has found him.

He took a deep breath to steady his mind before he touched the door. It glowed slightly in recognition of his status as a Werewolf of the Pack, and then he pushed it open.

The sight of twelve old men murmuring one to another was the first thing that greeted him.

All twelve of them were dressed in yellow robes with a red sash over their shoulders. The red sash was labeled with the silver insignia of the Primordial Beast.

All twelve of them were seated at a long, curved table.

The moment he entered the room, all eyes were immediately drawn to him, and the murmuring stopped.

The pack's chief elder, Elder Isaiah, sat in the middle of the twelve. He was a man that looked prime for death, but his sharp-witted eyes proved that age had not blinded his foresight or dampened his abilities in any manner.

In fact, it was safe to say that it had even improved.

He always had a way of meticulously handling details that made him constantly win the respect of not just the elders but even the sometimes-unruly Alpha family.

Isaiah massaged his full gray-bearded face as he addressed Victor.

"Victor, we have gotten the report from Moses, your Head Guard, but we would like to hear what you have to say about the event that happened in the Waste Land."

Victor sighed. "It is just as I told you before. We had taken a ship heading for the Iron Back territory as agreed by both packs when it happened.

We had intended to follow the standard route, but there has been a sudden rise of undead activities in the wastelands, and rumors had it that the undead were heading for the Magi territory known as Bedrock Town.

For this reason, we shifted our passage by exactly 3 degrees. Those 3 degrees might not have been big, but they were definitely enough for us to avoid problems with the undead army in the long run.

Sometime on our journey, that was when it happened..."