Scott was asleep when the door burst open.
"Dude—get up."
The voice came with urgency. It cut straight through sleep like a blade. Scott's eyes opened instantly, far too quickly for someone who had just been asleep seconds ago.
For a brief moment, he didn't move.
The room felt familiar in a way that wasn't comforting. It was recognition without ownership—like remembering a place he had seen a hundred times but never lived in.
Then everything aligned at once.
Scott McCall's room.Beacon Hills.Teen Wolf.
And standing in the doorway—Stiles.
"…right," Scott muttered under his breath, pushing himself up.
Stiles blinked. "What?"
"Nothing," Scott said quickly, grabbing the nearest thing that felt like it belonged in his hand—a bat. It fit too naturally, like muscle memory that wasn't his.
Stiles stared at it. "Why do you have that?"
"Thought you were someone else."
"That's comforting," Stiles shot back. "Really makes me feel valued as a friend."
Scott let out a small breath, steadying himself. This wasn't a dream. The clarity was too sharp, too structured. His thoughts weren't scrambling—they were organizing.
He knew this scene.
Which meant everything that followed was already set in motion.
"So what's going on?" he asked, even though he already knew.
Stiles stepped in, energy barely contained. "Police scanners picked something up. My dad left like twenty minutes ago, and they're calling in everyone. Like—everyone. Even State."
Scott stood, pulling on his shoes without rushing. "And?"
Stiles leaned closer, lowering his voice instinctively. "They found a body. In the woods."
There it was.
The beginning.
Scott nodded once, like he was just processing it for the first time. "A body?"
"Yeah," Stiles said, pacing now. "Except—it's not a full body. They only found half."
Scott paused just long enough to make it natural. "Which half?"
Stiles stopped. Blinked. "I didn't even think about that."
Scott almost smiled.
Stiles turned back to him. "We're going."
It wasn't really a suggestion.
Scott didn't argue. There was no point. This had to happen.
"Give me a minute," he said, already moving.
As he stood, something settled into place—not in front of his eyes, not blocking his vision, but layered quietly behind it.
A structure.
Clean. Minimal.
...
[Proficiency System — Active]
Strength: 4
Speed: 5
Endurance: 4
Control: 3
...
Scott didn't stop walking.
Didn't react outwardly.
But internally, everything sharpened.
Every action improves something.
He tested it immediately.
Not dramatically.
Just small things.
He tightened his grip on the bat—held it steady, adjusted his fingers, found balance.
A faint response followed. Not a notification, more like confirmation.
[Strength +0.02]
Subtle.
Scott exhaled slowly.
Yeah… this is going to matter.
He grabbed his jacket and followed Stiles out.
The night air hit colder than expected.
The woods loomed darker than they should have been, even with flashlights cutting through the path ahead. It wasn't fear that settled in Scott's chest—it was awareness. Every sound carried a little further. Every shadow felt slightly more defined.
Stiles talked the entire way, filling the silence with theories, half-formed ideas, and the occasional bad joke. Scott let him. It helped maintain the illusion that everything was normal.
In reality, Scott was testing everything.
He adjusted his steps—shorter strides, then longer. Balanced his weight differently. Controlled how his foot landed on the ground.
[Movement Efficiency +0.03]
[Balance +0.02]
Not overwhelming.
Not fast.
But consistent.
So repetition stacks…
That changed things.
"Okay, just to be clear," Stiles said, sweeping the flashlight beam across the trees, "if we find anything remotely close to a dead body, I'm blaming you."
"That makes sense," Scott replied calmly. "This was definitely my idea."
"You didn't stop me."
"That's because stopping you would've taken longer."
Stiles snorted. "Rude."
They moved deeper.
The air changed first.
It was subtle—so subtle Stiles didn't notice—but Scott did. A faint shift in the wind, carrying something metallic, something wrong.
Scott slowed.
"Wait."
Stiles stopped. "What?"
Scott didn't answer immediately. He tilted his head slightly, focusing—not just listening, but choosing what to listen to.
Leaves. Wind. Their own footsteps.
And underneath—
Movement.
[Perception +0.04]
"We're not alone," Scott said quietly.
Stiles immediately turned, scanning behind them. "Yeah, no kidding, we're in the woods."
Before Scott could respond, a voice cut through the dark.
"Hold it right there!"
Flashlights flared from another direction. Police.
Scott didn't hesitate.
"Go," he muttered, already turning.
Stiles didn't argue. They split instinctively, each moving in a different direction.
The moment Scott lost sight of Stiles, the forest changed.
The noise dropped.
Not completely—but enough.
It felt… focused.
Like something had removed everything unnecessary.
Scott didn't run blindly.
He forced control into every movement—breathing steady, steps measured, direction consistent.
[Control +0.05]
[Endurance +0.03]
Branches snapped somewhere behind him.
He stopped.
Slowly.
The growl came next.
Low.
Close.
Scott turned—
Too late.
The Alpha hit him.
The impact drove him into the ground, fangs tearing through his side. Pain exploded instantly, raw and violent.
Scott's body tried to react.
He stopped it.
Breathe.
In.
Out.
Don't lose control.
[Pain Resistance +0.06]
[Control +0.04]
The world blurred for a second, but he held onto it.
Held onto himself.
Through the darkness, he saw it.
The shape.
The eyes.
Red.
Scott forced himself up just enough to stay conscious, refusing to collapse fully.
"…Alpha," he said under his breath.
The creature paused.
For a fraction of a second, something shifted in the air between them.
Then the Alpha disappeared.
No sound. No warning.
Just gone.
Scott stayed still, breathing hard but controlled.
The pain was still there.
But it wasn't overwhelming.
It was… contained.
He looked down.
Blood.
Real.
But already slowing.
[Endurance +0.05]
Scott pressed his hand lightly against the wound.
Tested it.
Measured it.
"It's already working…"
That wasn't hope.
That was observation.
He pushed himself to his feet.
Not perfectly stable.
But stable enough.
That alone—
Was different.
Scott looked back into the trees where the Alpha had stood.
"I know what you are," he said quietly.
This time, the words carried weight.
The forest stayed silent.
But something in it—
Had taken notice.
By the time Scott made it home, the world had settled back into something almost normal.
Almost.
He closed the door and leaned against it briefly, letting everything align.
The bite had happened.
That part was fixed.
Everything else was still moving.
He sat on the edge of the bed, flexing his hand slightly.
The system remained.
Quiet.
Constant.
Not guiding him.
Not interfering.
Just recording.
That was perfect.
Because it meant one thing.
Everything he did—
Mattered.
Scott leaned back slightly, eyes focused now, not overwhelmed.
The future was already mapped in his head.
The Alpha.
The full moon.
Derek.
Allison.
Hunters.
Mistakes.
This time, none of it was unknown.
And now—
He had something extra.
A system that rewarded effort.
A body that adapted.
A timeline he understood.
Scott let out a slow breath.
Then smiled.
"This time," he said quietly, "I build this right."
Somewhere deep in the preserve, Peter Hale stopped.
Just for a moment.
Because something about the boy he bit—
Felt different.
Not stronger.
Not yet.
But changing faster than it should.
And that—
Was interesting.