James understood all of that, but the way Caius explained it made it seem as though people had already mastered that level of magic back in ancient times.
"Quick question," James said, raising a hand.
Caius raised an eyebrow. "Go ahead."
"You're talking about physics, vectors, and aerodynamics, but I really doubt people from thousands of years ago had access to any of that knowledge."
Caius nodded slowly. It was a fair, yet fundamentally flawed assumption.
"Just because someone lived in the ancient past does not mean they were stupid," Caius corrected him, adjusting his pace.
"While high-level education was certainly not as widespread as it is today, people back then were far from mindless cavemen."
He gestured broadly toward the looming forest behind them. "You are falling into the same trap that modern humanity so frequently falls into—assuming that a lack of digital technology equates to an absence of intellectual strength.
The capacity of the human mind, and by extension our own, has not fundamentally changed for thousands of years."
Caius continued smoothly, "Consider your own world history. Eratosthenes calculated the entire circumference of the Earth in 240 BC using nothing more than the shadow cast by a stick and a basic grasp of geometry. The Babylonians tracked Jupiter's path across the night sky using geometric trapezoids over a thousand years before Europeans ever formalized calculus."
"I remember reading something about that," James admitted, suddenly feeling a surge of genuine interest in ancient history. If he wanted to get stronger, understanding the past was clearly part of the process.
"They achieved this through rigorous observation, logic, and mathematics," Caius noted gently.
"Take the Antikythera mechanism—an ancient Greek analogue computer engineered over two thousand years ago. It utilized a complex system of bronze gears to predict astronomical positions and eclipses with terrifying precision. They lacked digital screens and microchips, so they engineered physical accuracy straight out of metal and mechanics."
That was actually true, James thought. Now that he reflected on it, wouldn't ancient werewolves and vampires possess the unfiltered truth of world history? When he had free time, he would definitely need to hunt down the pack's central library.
He was fairly certain he had spotted it near the center of the territory earlier.
Caius paused briefly near a thick tree line, looking down at James with a solemn expression.
"The ancients did not use terms like 'vector calculus' or 'aerodynamics,' but they understood the underlying principles through different conceptual frameworks," Caius continued.
"An archer in ancient Egypt did not require a modern physics textbook to comprehend projectile motion, wind resistance, and parabolic arcs—they mapped those concepts through geometry and relentless practical application. Ancient mages did the exact same thing with mana.
They mapped the laws of nature through sacred geometry, celestial alignments, and elemental ratios."
They resumed walking, but one specific phrase lingered in James's mind.
"Wait... you said 'your world history,' like mine," James pressed, narrowing his eyes. "Is there something you're not telling me?"
The way Caius had phased it made it sound as though an entire secondary history was unfolding parallel to human events.
"Well, naturally," Caius said dryly. "During those same eras, the supernatural world was hardly dormant. There were the Century Wars between the Elves and the Dwarves, the brutal subjugation of the Dark Elves, ancient entities walking among mortals, and a renegade dark mage who engineered entire plagues."
James blinked, halting in his tracks. "I beg your pardon?"
Caius let out a quiet sigh. "It would be far better for you to master your own local history first," he advised in a measured tone.
"Attempting to digest thousands of years of hidden global history all at once will only leave you hopelessly confused."
James conceded with a nod. Looking around, he realized they had traveled a significant distance from the village core.
As they crossed an invisible perimeter, the atmospheric energy shifted dramatically. It felt similar to the warding magic Rowan had showcased earlier, only far more refined and potent. A subtle, clinging mist hovered low over the forest floor.
"We are crossing the outer barriers," Caius announced.
"Barriers? As in plural?"
Caius simply nodded. "This is the final layer."
James turned around and waved a hand through the empty air behind them. From his perspective, the dense pack settlement had completely vanished from sight.
The surrounding mana instantly settled back into a standard, low-density state, no longer feeling thick and suffocating like it did inside the territory.
"How does an entire settlement fit into such a small physical footprint?" James asked.
"You will study spatial folding in due time," Caius replied evasively. He slowed his steps, his nostrils flaring slightly as he sampled the wind, ensuring no unwanted presence had followed them out.
Anyone stumbling upon this boundary would unfortunately have to be permanently removed from the census.
"Alright, let's pick up the pace. We have a long trek before we reach the public trails where humans venture."
They were deep within the untamed wilderness. James knew he could scream at the top of his lungs out here and no one would ever hear him.
Hell, a bomb could detonate in this sector and the outside world wouldn't register a sound.
"Got it," James said, keeping close behind Caius while carefully scanning the terrain to memorize the route back.
"Don't bother," Caius stated without even turning around.
James raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"
"The surrounding terrain shifts on a daily cycle," Caius explained calmly.
What the fuck, James thought. He understood the concept of security, but wouldn't a shifting forest be glaringly obvious to outsiders?
Noticing the bewildered look on the young hybrid's face, Caius expanded on his explanation.
"You've likely noticed the persistent mist hovering around our ankles."
"Yeah," James said, looking down at the pale vapor coiling around his boots. "What about it?"
Caius offered a subtle, knowing smile. "Tell me, James—how is mist formed?"
James blinked, caught off guard by the sudden science pop-quiz, but dug into his memory. "Mist forms when warm, moist air cools rapidly, causing the invisible water vapor to condense into tiny, suspended liquid droplets."
"Precisely. Full marks for human basic education," Caius approved with a brief nod.
James adjusted his stride, watching the milky veil drift between the ancient trunks. "Okay, cool... but what does standard atmospheric condensation have to do with changing the landscape?"
"Because this is not ordinary moisture," Caius revealed, sweeping a hand through the cool air.
"Every evening as the sun dips below the horizon, a localized leyline beneath the territory discharges a controlled pulse of mana. That energy condenses into this exact mist. While it appears entirely natural to the untrained eye, the magic embedded within it actively restructures the topsoil. It shifts lower vegetation, fills in disturbed earth, and completely erases footprints, scents, and broken foliage left behind during the day."
James froze mid-step, staring down at his tracks. "So any path I walked on yesterday..."
"Is completely erased by dawn," Caius finished smoothly. "By the time the morning sun rises, the environmental heat dissipates the mist back into the atmosphere, leaving zero evidence of magical intervention. To an outsider, it appears to be nothing more than morning fog clearing over untouched woods."
James let out a low whistle. The pack didn't just hide within the forest—they kept the ecosystem pristine, vibrant, and undisturbed, protecting the very land that sustained them. In return, the environment provided a seamless, self-cleaning defense mechanism.
"So as long as the forest remains healthy," James realized, "the mist continues its cycle naturally."
That was surprisingly well thought out.
The two of them walked, engaging in easy small talk. James asked question after question, and Caius was more than happy to provide detailed answers.
"So like, I get that people in the past weren't dumb and had alternative methods," James said, stepping over a stray root.
"But considering human history, I find it pretty unlikely that the wealthy and powerful would ever share that kind of magic with commoners."
He wasn't saying humanity was entirely greedy by nature, but realistically, power usually stayed at the top.
"You are certainly correct," Caius agreed smoothly. "Those methods were strictly gatekept by humans for a long time. Only nobles and elite scholars had access to them. Wealthy bloodlines hoarded their secrets, keeping the power entirely to themselves."
James narrowed his eyes, tracking the calm warrior's side profile. "I'm waiting for the 'but.'"
Caius offered a faint smile. "You are perceptive. While hoarding knowledge served those families well in the short term, preserving magic is not like hoarding gold. When a powerful family fell to war or disease, they usually took their secrets to the grave with them. It did not aid humanity's overall survival in the slightest."
"Yeah, I've noticed," James muttered. "Most of the supernatural creatures I've heard about seem to feed on humans. Lady Selene said it's because the human soul hits a specific sweet spot."
Caius glanced up toward the pale morning sky. "That is only half correct."
James raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"It is simply because humans rest at the bottom of the food chain."
I beg your finest pardon? James thought, stunned.
Noticing his confusion, Caius elaborated. "In the grand scheme of the world, unawakened humans are fragile.
They can train to grow stronger, certainly, but they will never possess the centuries of lifespan that we do."
He paused, stepping past a low-hanging branch. "Furthermore, with their greed blinding them, centuries of progress could be erased in a single generation.
I will give you a fair warning now: human history is littered with massive, erased massacres."
"How the fuck did regular people not notice the supernatural if it was so common back then?" James asked.
"Cell phones did not exist," Caius replied plainly. "You are privileged to be born in this era. Before the internet, and before long-distance travel became effortless, entire villages could be wiped out without the neighboring town knowing for months. And that is without accounting for memory-altering spells."
Right... James realized. How could I forget about magic wiping memories?
"If you paid attention in your history classes," Caius continued, "you should recall that around the fourteenth century, human scholars began sharing knowledge far more freely."
The detail clicked instantly in James's mind. He actually remembered that lecture from Professor Merrow Blackthorne.
The professor had been talking about the rapid spread of text and ideas around that period. He had been paying attention, swear to God.
"So you're saying..."
Caius nodded. "It was largely spurred by the crushing defeats of the Crusades a few centuries prior."
"Wait, defeats?" James looked over, bewildered. From what he remembered of textbook summaries and online discussions, the Crusades were usually painted as glorious, sweeping campaigns.
"Ah, yes. Christian propaganda," Caius said calmly, without a trace of judgment. "It is not your fault for believing it. Apart from the First Crusade, they suffered massive losses across the board, several of which were absolute catastrophes."
"I see..."
"And to answer your earlier question regarding how ancient people cast magic without widespread academic knowledge—the answer is simple: they felt it. Early magic was purely instinctive."
Caius kept his eyes trained on the path ahead, his nostrils flaring slightly every few seconds to test the breeze.
"It was tied directly to raw emotion or bloodline inheritance," Caius explained.
James looked at him sideways. "Bloodline inheritance... so magic can literally be genetic?"
"Yes."
"And once they figured that out, I'm guessing some human families resorted to inbreeding just to keep the magic in their bloodline?" James guessed, already predicting the dark turn human history usually took.
"Precisely," Caius confirmed. "They feared that marrying outside their lineage would dilute their gift, or that the power would fall into rival hands."
That makes a disturbing amount of sense, James thought.
Caius glanced at him. "Modern magic is not inherently stronger than ancient magic, pup. It is simply far more refined. What took an ancient shaman half a lifetime of tribal rituals and sacrifice to invoke, a modern practitioner can execute in seconds using a structured geometric spell-circle."
He added, "To put it into perspective, a high-tier modern mage today would likely have been worshipped as a literal god back then."
So magic evolved alongside civilization. That was reassuring to know.
Just as the thought crossed his mind, James caught a scent on the wind. His enhanced senses picked up the distinct aroma of a human running along a paved path nearly a mile away.
Damn, I can smell someone from a whole mile off.
With the wilderness fading behind them, the remainder of the walk back toward his neighborhood proved to be remarkably peaceful.
When they finally reached the edge of the clearing, Caius came to a sudden halt, his shoes resting right on the boundary line where the dense woods gave way to the quiet suburban neighborhood.
"This is as far as I go," Caius said, his voice dropping into its usual quiet, steady tone. "Walking a half-naked, heavily scarred stranger into a residential neighborhood at dawn tends to attract unwanted human attention. You can handle the rest of the trek on your own."
James nodded, completely understanding. "Right. Thanks again, Caius."
"Get your schoolwork in order, pup," Caius offered a single, rare nod of approval before turning around and vanishing back into the shadows of the tree line as seamlessly as if he had never been there at all.
James took a deep breath of the crisp, cool morning air— smelling asphalt, freshly cut grass, and distant car exhaust—and walked the last few blocks to his house.
Everything looked so maddeningly normal. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, casting a warm golden light across the paved driveway and suburban roofs.
It felt surreal that less than an hour ago, he was discussing thousand-year-old bloodlines and dimensional calculus in an enchanted forest.
Unlocking the front door, he slipped inside quietly. The house was dead silent. He headed straight up the stairs to his bedroom and pushed the door open, half-expecting to find his room tossed or missing his things.
Instead, everything was neatly arranged exactly where it was supposed to be. His backpack sat by the desk, his clothes were folded, and his phone lay resting on the center of his mattress, fully charged with a full battery icon glowing on the screen.
He didn't even want to guess how Caius or the others had managed to bypass his locked doors and leave his stuff so neatly without anyone noticing. Magic really was convenient.
Stripping off his worn, travel-stained clothes, James stepped into the bathroom and turned the shower on full blast.
He stood under the scalding stream for a long time, scrubbing away the lingering dirt, sweat, and the sharp scent of the deep wilderness. Feeling the hot water hit his skin was heaven.
Once he dried off and pulled on a pair of comfortable sweatpants, James practically collapsed onto his bed.
The mattress felt impossibly soft compared to the rough wooden cabins and trail ground. He pulled the blanket up to his chest, staring at the ceiling as heavy, bone-deep exhaustion finally caught up with him.
His life had completely, irreversibly changed. Between werewolf bloodlines, ancient magic, mind-reading threats, and a mountain of missed college assignments waiting to destroy his GPA, his world was never going to be simple again.
He didn't even have time to finish the thought before his eyes drifted shut, and he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
A/N I got like 2 school chapters written up,
Vote with powerstones