Grand Game 431: Wolf Progenitor (Patreon)

I clasped the high captain’s hand. “Thank you, Algar.”

“There’s just one other thing,” he said.

“Go on.”

“When you spoke to the council, you seemed pretty adamant about needing one thousand soldiers,” he said. “Has that changed?”

“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I have a time-limited task to control a sector. I’d been planning on using the warband to do that. Now, with everything that’s happened, I fear that will not be wise.”

Algar pursed his lips. “How much time do you have left on this task?”

“About three months,” I replied.

“Ample time then,” Zorg commented.

I smiled. “Maybe, but I’m no longer certain whether capturing the valley is even necessary.” I shook my head. “Those are worries for another day, though. And truly, if I have no other choice, I’ll return for the warband.”

“We’ll be waiting,” Algar said.

“What should we do in the interim?” Megtir asked.

“Stay here,” I said, glancing at the gathered possessed. “If everything goes as expected, there will be less than five hundred souls in the court by day’s end. That will leave ample room for the warband.”

Algar looked around. “It will not be an unpleasant place to be,” he admitted. “And we’ve brought enough stores to last months. Our orders?”

“Train. Expand. And grow stronger,” I said simply. “You will have Ceruvax to advise you.” I hesitated. “You can also expect more of my allies to join you soon.”

Algar’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t ask where they’d come from. “How many?”

“A few hundred at least. Maybe more.”

“We’ll need more housing then,” Everard predicted.

Algar nodded. “We’ll have to expand the court.”

“Building will keep the men occupied at least,” Zorg remarked.

“And some walls around this place wouldn’t hurt either,” Megtir added.

I smiled. I will leave you to your planning then.” I glanced in Nyra’s direction. “Right now, there is someone else I must speak with.”

✵ ✵ ✵

The apprentice watched my approach, her face expressionless. “I heard what you told Algar,” she said, raising her chin. “Does the same apply to me?”

“Yes,” I said forthrightly.

“You said you’d take me with you when you left the dungeon,” she accused.

“I did,” I said, “But that was before I knew there would be someone here to train you.”

Her gaze slid in Ceruvax’s direction. “Him?”

“Him,” I confirmed. “Ceruvax is a former envoy of House Wolf, and he will be able to give your training more time and care than I can, to be honest.” I smiled lopsidedly. “Then, too, here in Draven’s Reach, you won’t spend most of your time on the run.”

“I want to come with you,” she insisted.

My smile faded. “It won’t be forever. And there’ll be others joining you soon.”

“Others?”

“Another two young players, almost at least,” I said, thinking of the twins. “A werewolf player and two wolf Packs.” Bringing them all into Draven’s Reach would be a priority. “You’ll have plenty of company.”

She fell silent for a moment. “Then, you mean to do it.”

I looked at her curiously. “Do what?”

“Raise House Wolf. Go to war. Fight the new Powers and all that.”

“Yes, but we’re a long way from any of that.” I held her gaze. “I won’t force you, you know. Stay or come, the choice is yours.”

Nyra’s gaze drifted to Ceruvax again. “Is he really as old as he looks?”

“Even older,” I said, deadpan.

“Older,” Nyra muttered. Turning back to me, she sighed. “Alright, I’ll stay.”

“Thank you,” I said, relieved. I turned to where Regus was tapping his foot impatiently. “Do you want to come watch? It may be educational.”

She wrinkled her nose. “No, I’ll stay here with Ghost, I think.”

✵ ✵ ✵

Nyra, it turned out, was the only one not curious to witness the promised transformation of the possessed into werewolves.

Standing in the center of a crowd, with Farren, Adriel, and Ceruvax behind me, I faced the first candidate.

Regus.

The former court’s head of security had volunteered to go first. I had been less enthused by the prospect than he was, but neither lich thought the danger onerous. If need be, they would rehome Regus.

I ran my gaze over the watching possessed, packed tightly together and crowding in on the circle of empty space around me and the others in the middle. Even Avery and his group had come to witness what happened. We should’ve done this on the dais, I thought, but it was too late to relocate now. From the avid looks of the onlookers, no one was going to suffer further delays.

I glanced at the lichs behind me.

Both nodded curtly. “Ready,” Farren pronounced.

I turned back to Regus; wordlessly, he went down on one knee and raised his right arm.

I took his hand in mine, baring the flesh at the wrist. I would have to physically bite the possessed, and despite Ceruvax’s assurances, I wasn’t entirely convinced that what we planned would work, especially not on the first attempt. The Game had stated the probability of success would be no higher than twenty percent, after all.

Farren had explained this to the others, but I knew no one would react well to failure. Nor did I miss the anticipatory gleam in Avery’s eyes. He, at least, was expecting me to fail, and in a huge way, too. I suspected this was the only thing that had stopped him and the others from protesting the delay to the ritual combat.

He’s probably prepared his speech already, I thought morosely.

I shook off my doubts. There was no use delaying further. Here goes. Lowering my head, I pinched Regus’ skin between my teeth and tugged—hard enough to tear flesh.

You have bitten Regus! Were’s bite activated.

Analyzing the subject’s suitability…

…

…

In breathless anticipation, I waited, not daring to wipe away the blood staining my teeth and lips or to stop the red rivulets running down the possessed’s arm.

Analysis complete.

The non-player, Regus, carries 25 dormant bloodline strains, one of which is of Wolf and has been deemed acceptable.

I nearly sagged in relief before I remembered the watching crowd. “The Adjudicator has judged Regus a suitable candidate,” I reported.

Gasps and cries of excitement rose from all around me. Avery scowled. That does not mean it will work!” he shouted.

“True,” I replied grimly. “But we’re about to find out.”

The subject has acceded to the were’s bite. Transferring lycanthropy mutation.

…

…

Regus stiffened suddenly.

The next moment, his back arched, and his limbs failed. Releasing his arm, I gripped him around the chest. He continued to trash, his body simultaneously trying to drag me down and throw me off. I held on grimly.

“His eyes are turning yellow!” someone yelled.

“Look at his hands, they’re growing claws!”

“Is that fur?”

Mutation unsuccessful. The subject has failed to bring the lycanthropy infecting his system under control and has succumbed.

Regus has died.

The possessed slumped, and I staggered forward, trying to hold him upright.

“It didn’t work!” Avery shouted gleefully. “I told you fools, it—”

“Shut up, Avery,” Farren said mildly. “One more word out of you, and I swear I will crush the life out of your bones.”

Not unsurprisingly, the possessed closed his mouth.

Ignoring the byplay, I glanced at Adriel. Regus’ spirit had not exited his body as it would’ve ordinarily, and that was Adriel’s doing. By some arcane means of death magic, she was forcing his spirit to stay housed within its dead cage.

“I’ve got him,” she confirmed. “Give it a moment. He will come to, once the mutation has run its course.”

Nodding, I turned back to the possessed. Regus’ eyes were shut, and the pain lines riddling his face hadn’t faded. Worse yet, his body remained stuck in a random mix of wolf and human body parts. I shuddered. The possessed’s death had been far from pleasant. At least, it was quick.

A minute passed, then another, and I sensed the crowd grow restless, but I didn’t look up. Trusting Adriel, I waited.

Finally, Regus’ eyes snapped open.

A moment later, they focused on me. “Again,” he rasped.

I hesitated. “You’re sure?”

He nodded jerkily. “Do it.”

Not questioning his resolve further, I bit down on his wrist once more.

✵ ✵ ✵

It took five tries, but finally, the Game message I was waiting for arrived.

Mutation complete.

The subject’s body has accepted the lycanthropy mutation. Were’s bite successful.

“It’s done!” I shouted, stumbling back. The possessed was changing before my eyes, his transformation—which thus far had only been occurring in fits and starts—advancing smoothly from one step to the next.

But that wasn’t the only change he was going through.

“Look!” one sharp-eyed onlooker yelled. “The wound on his head, it’s closing!”

My eyes darted to the new werewolf’s once-bald head. Regus was still in the middle of his change and a wolf’s furry coat didn’t cover his scalp yet. The commentator was correct, I saw.

The legacy wound on Regus’ head—inflicted when the player whose corpse he inhabited had been killed—was healing, the raw, angry sides closing as if they’d never been.

I inhaled sharply. No possessed could heal legacy wounds, no matter what magic spells they attempted or how many health potions they quaffed. That Regus could do so now was only due to a werewolf’s famed regenerative powers.

Ceruvax had been right. And that meant…

My head whipped around in Adriel’s direction, seeking confirmation.

The lich was smiling.

“It worked,” she said softly. “The lycanthropy running through Regus’ veins has destroyed the finger bone from his old body—just as Ceruvax suspected it would. And that has forced Regus’ spirit to mesh fully with its physical shell.” She drew in a tremulous breath. “He is whole again.”

A grin broke out across my face as I turned back around. A naked werewolf in half-form loomed over me.

Ten feet tall, Regus was now much taller that he’d been before. His clothes, little more than rags, lay where they had fallen, but with a coat of shiny brown fur covering him from head to toe, he hardly needed them.

“Wow,” Ghost exclaimed from where she and Nyra watched on the dais. “Is this what Anriq looks like?”

“Something like,” I murmured. I met the new werewolf’s eyes. Tears swam in them. He knows.

“You hear that, Regus,” I shouted anyway, more for the crowd’s benefit than his. “It worked!”

“I feel it,” Regus said, the words emerging as a guttural half-snarl from his snout-like face. Throwing back his head to face the sky, he roared, “I’m no longer a possessed! I’m whole again!”

The crowd broke out in cheers.

“He lies!” Avery yelled. “It’s a trick!”

But no one was listening. Ignoring Avery, they congregated around the new werewolf, inspecting him intently. For most, neither Regus’ words nor Adriel’s were necessary. The sight of the werewolf’s wounds closing was confirmation enough. The former possessed was whole again.

That, of course, was the outcome we’d all been hoping for. It had, by no means, been guaranteed, but it was the entire reason Ceruvax had suggested this approach.

Few things in the Game could stop a werewolf from regenerating. The former envoy had been convinced that if the possessed could be turned into weres, the lycan mutation would take care of the rest of their problems.

And he’d been right.

Turning to the left, I met Ceruvax's gaze. “Well done, old wolf,” I whispered.

He heard me despite the crowd’s noise. “Did you analyze him?” he asked in a low voice as he stepped closer.

“No, why would—”

“Do it.”

Hearing the strange note in his voice, I swung wordlessly back to Regus and did just that.

The target is Regus, a level 179 wolfman.

It is not often that non-players survive an infection of lycanthropy and those that do don’t turn into werewolves but wolfmen.

Wolfmen are a species born from a nearly unique set of circumstances, and unlike most other blends of men and beasts, they are more sentient than feral. But despite their origins, wolfmen possess many of their lupine forebearers’ traits, including the prodigious regeneration abilities of a werewolf.

“Wolfmen? What’s a damn wolfman?” I growled. At first glance, that sounded akin to the ratmen I’d encountered in the Guardian Tower.

“Something I’ve heard of only once or twice before but never encountered myself,” Ceruvax replied. “They’re rarer than werewolves.”

“Then Regus is not a werewolf?” I asked, wanting to be certain. “This is not just him in his half-form?”

“No, this is his only form, I suspect,” Ceruvax said.

I lowered my head in my hands.

“Does it matter?” Adriel asked from where she’d been quietly listening.

Raising my head, I looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“Werewolf or wolfman, what does it matter?” Adriel asked. “Regus is no longer possessed, and he has a stronger, healthier body than he could ever have hoped for.”

“But I promised them they’d become werewolves,” I protested. “Not wolfmen.”

She chuckled. “I doubt that will matter to Regus—or any of the others, for that matter.”

I sighed. “Probably not,” I conceded.

“Shall I?” Ceruvax asked, gesturing to the wolfman.

The next part was his—welcoming Regus into the new Pack.

I nodded. “Go ahead.”

✵ ✵ ✵

Adriel was correct. The differences between wolfmen and werewolves fazed none of the possessed, and after witnessing the result of Regus’ change, most were eager to undergo their own transformations.

It took nearly the entire day to go through all five hundred wolfmen candidates. Some went faster. Many took longer. Avery tried to use the time to sway more possessed to his cause, but few bothered listening to him anymore. In fact, it was all he could do to hold onto his existing recruits. I didn’t bother trying to convince any of Avery’s group to change their minds either.

They had made their decision, and it was safer for all concerned for them to go through with the ritual combat than for them to join the wolfmen pack and cause trouble at a later stage.

By the time I finished with the last candidate, Ceruvax’s new pack numbered just over five hundred. Only forty possessed had failed to transform. They had been despondent by their failure, but rather than join Avery, most had opted to merge with the third group—those waiting to be rehomed into flesh golems.

“They know what’s in store for them?” I asked Adriel, studying the group in question, now numbering nearly one hundred.

She nodded. “They know,” she said softly.

I’d given the possessed no guarantees about how long it would take to rehome them, only that they would be. First, I would need to retrieve the Ring of Astral Walking and rejoin the dire wolf pack. Which meant the hundred would be spending a few weeks—at the very least—as disembodied spirits, housed in only their bones.

“Are you ready to face Avery and the others?” the lich asked tiredly.

The wolfmen ceremony had exhausted Adriel and Farren. Both had toiled hard to keep the possessed spirits locked in their bodies while the lycan mutation did its work. I, by contrast, had suffered no ill effects—if you discounted having to endure the coppery tang of blood over and over, that is.

“Almost,” I replied. “There’s just a few things I—”

I cut off abruptly.

“What is it?” Adriel asked sharply.

“A Game message,” I murmured, turning my focus inward.

By unanimous accord, the wolfmen of sector 73,102 have proclaimed a new leader! Your follower, Ceruvax, is now the alpha of the new Pack of the Reach.

Ceruvax’s Wolf Mark has deepened, advancing to Pack Alpha.

“Well, that’s interesting,” I said, glancing in the direction of the former envoy. The last of the newborn wolfmen had just submitted to him, and by all appearances, the Game’s message had also caught the old wolf by surprise.

I chuckled. “Ceruvax has just become the alpha of the new pack, which the Game has labeled the Pack of the Reach. It has a nice ring to it, don’t you—”

I broke off again.

Another Game alert was flashing for attention.

You have completed the hidden task: Establish a new line of Wolves! Weres have been around as long as the Game has existed, but nearly every were has been a player, and few are the weres that have formed a species of their own. Your actions today have seen the birth of a wolfmen pack, the first of its kind in the Game’s history.

Your spirit signature has been etched with a new Mark! You have acquired the Mark of the Wolf Progenitor. Progenitor Marks are separate and distinct from your main bloodline Marks and are only ever awarded in rare cases.

Your secret blood trait has been triggered! To conceal your bloodline, your new Mark will be hidden.

As a result of your Progenitor Mark, you may undergo another higher evolution. Do you wish to proceed?