Kael Varyn did not scream when they chained him to the stone.
He had learned long ago that sound only made them smile wider.
The altar lay at the center of the Blackmoon Pit, a circular depression carved into the living mountain beneath the Ironfang Pack's fortress. It was where traitors were cleansed, where Omegas were broken, where the weak were erased from memory.
Above him, hundreds of eyes watched from the iron balconies carved into the cavern walls.
Alphas.
Betas.
Pack elders wrapped in wolf-fur cloaks.
And standing closest to the pit, the ones who had once sworn to protect him.
"Begin," commanded High Alpha Drevik.
The word carried authority older than blood. It rolled through the cavern, vibrating in Kael's bones.
Two enforcers stepped forward. They were brothers by scent—broad-shouldered, scar-laced, eyes burning with righteous cruelty. Each carried a ritual blade forged from coldmoon steel, the only metal that could wound a werewolf's core.
Kael lowered his gaze, letting his hair fall across his eyes.
Not because he feared them.
But because he could not bear to see their faces anymore.
He had served this pack since he was nine.
A runt Omega with barely enough wolf-blood to shift claws, taken from a border village and pressed into servitude. He had fetched water, cleaned dens, stitched wounds after battles. He had even—once—dragged Drevik himself from a battlefield after a rogue ambush.
And this was how they repaid him.
"You stand accused," Drevik continued, voice echoing, "of colluding with the Nightveil Pack. Of poisoning Alpha bloodlines. Of weakening our pack from within."
A murmur spread through the pit.
Kael lifted his eyes at last.
"That is a lie," he said hoarsely. "You know it is."
A sharp laugh cut through the cavern.
Seris Nightveil stepped into view.
She was breathtaking in her armor of midnight steel, silver inlays catching the torchlight. Her crimson hair was bound in a warrior's braid, her eyes cold as winter glass.
She had been the only one kind to him.
Once.
"The evidence was found in your quarters," Seris said, gaze never wavering. "Nightveil sigils burned into your bedding. A vial of rotbane. You are a traitor, Kael."
His chest tightened.
"They planted that," he whispered. "You know they did. Seris… please."
For a flicker of a heartbeat, something moved in her eyes.
Then it vanished.
"The Ironfang Pack has no need for lying Omegas."
The enforcers raised their blades.
Pain exploded through Kael's ribs as the first knife plunged in. Coldmoon steel did not cut—it devoured. It tore into his wolf-core, unraveling the fragile energy that defined his existence.
His scream echoed once before he swallowed it back.
He would not give them that.
The second blade followed, then the third. Each strike peeled away years of endurance, loyalty, humiliation. He tasted iron. His vision swam.
He dimly sensed the elders chanting. Words of severance. Of erasure.
They were not just killing him.
They were erasing him from the pack's memory.
And then, as his blood soaked into the altar stone, he heard Drevik speak again.
"Bury him."
Hands seized him. Chains were removed. His broken body was dragged to the rear of the pit where a narrow shaft yawned into darkness.
The burial chute.
A place where condemned Omegas were thrown to rot in the mountain's womb.
Kael tried to cling to the stone. Fingers slipped on blood.
"Seris," he croaked.
She did not look back.
They shoved him.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
He did not die immediately.
That was the cruelest part.
Kael's body slammed against jagged rock as he tumbled down the chute, bones snapping, flesh tearing. At last he came to rest in a hollow far below the fortress, surrounded by ancient roots and the stench of decay.
Cold. So cold.
His wolf-core flickered weakly, each heartbeat slower than the last.
So this is it, he thought dimly.
He had dreamed once of leaving the Ironfang Pack. Of finding a place where Omegas were not treated like dirt beneath Alpha claws.
He would never see that world.
Blood pooled beneath him. His breath rattled.
The mountain groaned softly around him.
Then—
A sound like shattering glass rang through his skull.
[Fatal Condition Detected.]
[Host Core Integrity: 3%]
[Searching…]
[System Initialization Successful.]
Kael's eyes flew open.
Light—not from torches, not from crystals—flooded his mind.
A translucent panel hovered before his fading vision, etched in silver glyphs that seemed carved from moonlight itself.
Welcome, Host.
Apex Devourer System — Awakening Protocol Complete.
His heart stuttered.
A system…?
Another panel unfolded.
This system activates only upon unjust execution.
Betrayal conditions confirmed.
Hidden bloodline resonance detected.
Pain tore through him as something ancient stirred in his veins. His shattered wolf-core convulsed, threads of dark-gold energy weaving through the ruins of his being.
Monarch Bloodline (Sealed) — Acknowledged.
Host too weak for full release.
Emergency reincarnation sequence engaged.
"What… are you…?" Kael whispered.
The system did not answer.
Instead, the world began to fall apart.
Stone blurred into light. Roots dissolved into silver mist. His body—his broken, useless Omega body—crumbled into dust that swirled upward like ash in a storm.
And then—
There was silence.
Kael woke to screaming.
Not his own.
The sound was raw, animal, tearing from lungs that had never drawn breath before.
He lay in warmth.
Not stone.
Not blood.
Warm cloth. The gentle rocking of arms. The smell of herbs and iron and… milk.
His eyes snapped open.
The world was enormous.
A woman's face loomed above him, streaked with sweat and tears. Dark hair clung to her temples, her eyes shining with fierce relief.
"He's breathing!" she cried. "Thank the Moon, he's breathing!"
Moonlight.
Pack scents.
Wolves.
Kael tried to move—and instead flailed with tiny limbs.
No…
His mind reeled.
He felt no pain. No chains. No wolf-core collapse.
Only softness. Fragility.
He looked down.
At fists the size of walnuts.
At skin unscarred, pale, newborn.
This isn't my body.
[Reincarnation Complete.]
Host age: Newborn — Omega class.]
Pack Affiliation: Nightveil.]
The name struck him like a blade.
Nightveil.
The enemy pack.
The same pack he had been accused of betraying Ironfang for.
The same pack whose sigil had been burned into his bedding.
So this is your joke, he thought bitterly. Reborn as their Omega?
The system chimed again.
[Apex Devourer System — Dormant Mode.]
Abilities available upon first Alpha kill.]
His breath caught.
Kill an Alpha…?
A shudder ran through his infant body.
Across the room, he sensed powerful presences—Alphas. Their auras rolled like pressure waves, instinctively trying to crush weaker wills.
But something inside him did not bend.
It watched.
It measured.
It remembered every blade that had pierced him in the Blackmoon Pit.
And as he lay cradled in a stranger's arms, surrounded by the scent of his former enemies, Kael Varyn—once the weakest Omega servant—made a vow deeper than blood.
This time…
I will not beg.
I will not serve.
I will devour every Alpha who stands above me.
The newborn Omega opened his mouth.
And began to cry.