Pack Formed

  _____

  5

  Calvin felt it the moment the chieftain ignored him. Not just a slight. Not just disrespect. Something deeper. A rejection. He stood in the open courtyard, shield raised, sword wet with goblin blood, waiting for the towering creature to turn and acknowledge him as the threat he knew he was. The Vanguard. The leader. The one who should matter. The chieftain didn’t even look his way. Its gaze stayed locked on Dorian Black. Calvin’s smile twitched, then hardened.

  “Hey,” he called out, voice loud, performative. “You lost or something?” A goblin broke from the edge of the fight, panic overtaking whatever discipline had held it moments before. It ran. Calvin lunged forward and drove his sword clean through its back. The blade punched out through its chest in a spray of red. The goblin screamed. Calvin lifted it off the ground with one arm, the creature writhing helplessly on his blade as blood poured down the steel and dripped onto the stone. He turned, grinning wide, and waved the impaled goblin toward the chieftain like a trophy. “You still ignoring me?” he shouted.

  The chieftain’s head snapped toward him. Its eyes flared red. The laughter from the remaining goblins died instantly, replaced by a tense, scraping silence. Even the wolves seemed to still, ears flattening as the chieftain took a single step forward. “Caster,” Calvin barked without looking back. “Ice magic. Now!” His Arcanist didn’t hesitate. Frost surged around her hands, coalescing into a jagged spear of ice that screamed through the air toward the chieftain. The chieftain raised its broadsword. It cut downward in a single, brutal arc. A red wave of power tore free from the blade, ripping through the frost as if it weren’t there at all.

  The ice spell shattered into useless mist. The red wave didn’t slow. It hit the impaled goblin first. The creature vanished in an instant, reduced to nothing but a spray of vaporized blood and fragments that rained down across the courtyard. Calvin barely had time to react. “Shield wall!” he roared.

  His iron shield flared with faint white light as he braced, feet digging into the stone. The red wave slammed into him with an explosion that shook the courtyard. The impact drove him backward a full step, boots scraping, teeth rattling in his skull. But he held. Smoke curled off the shield’s surface as the light faded. Calvin laughed, sharp and breathless. “That all you got?” Across the field, Dorian had already moved. He nodded once to Evan. They charged. Dorian came in low, fast, shadows clinging to his boots as he darted toward the chieftain’s flank. Evan took the opposite side, fists clenched, body coiled with reckless intent. The chieftain turned just in time.

  Steel rang as it blocked Dorian’s stab, the broadsword knocking his dagger aside with terrifying ease. Evan’s fists slammed into the creature’s back in a brutal flurry, each punch landing with bone-cracking force. The chieftain barely reacted. It reached for Dorian’s head with one massive hand. Every instinct Dorian had screamed at once. Move. Now. He twisted back, the claws of the wolf helm snapping shut inches from his face as he leapt away. The chieftain turned immediately toward Evan, broadsword lifting for a killing strike.

  A fireball streaked in. The chieftain sliced it apart midair without breaking stride. Dark energy surged from Helena’s outstretched hands, only to be cleaved in half by the descending blade, dissipating uselessly. Dorian felt it then. Cold understanding. “That weapon,” he shouted. “We have to get it out of his hands. It’s cutting through everything!”

  Evan didn’t argue. He disengaged instantly, retreating out of range as the broadsword carved a groove into the stone where he’d been standing. Calvin’s Striker chose that moment to charge. He came in from behind, hands raised overhead, fists glowing orange with gathered power as he leapt toward the chieftain’s exposed back. For a heartbeat, it looked like it might work. The chieftain turned. It caught the Striker by the face midair.

  There was a wet sound. In one smooth, horrifying motion, the chieftain brought its broadsword down and cleaved the man in half. The two pieces hit the ground separately, blood spraying across the stone as the body slid to a stop. Silence slammed down. For a second, no one moved. Dorian’s voice cut through it like a blade. “Stop staring!” he shouted. “Get ready!” Calvin snapped back to himself, horror giving way to fury. “Healers!” he roared. “Back heal the fuck out of me!” He turned toward Dorian, breath heaving. “It’s fixated on you,” Calvin said. “If I block its attacks and draw it in, can you land a critical hit?”

  Dorian didn’t hesitate. He nodded once. “Evan,” Dorian said. “Fall back. Rest. When I hit it, you rush the wound.” Evan nodded, already moving. “Lena,” Dorian continued. “Same spot. Fire everything you have.” Lena swallowed, fear clear in her eyes, then set her jaw. “I can do that.” The chieftain turned fully toward Dorian. Red energy pulsed along its blade. Calvin raised his shield. Dorian lowered his stance, shadows coiling tighter around his feet. The plan was set. Whether it would work was another matter entirely.

  The chieftain stopped playing with them. It hit Calvin first. The broadsword came down in a brutal diagonal, red energy tearing loose as the blade struck. Calvin raised his shield just in time. The impact detonated like a bomb. Stone cracked beneath his feet as he was driven backward, shield screaming in protest. The white glow around it flared, then fractured. Calvin flew. The back of his head hit the ground hard and didn’t get back up. Deep burns raised on his face and neck and he was knocked out cold. “Calvin!” one of his healers screamed. The chieftain didn’t even watch him fall. It turned on Evan.

  Evan charged anyway, teeth bared, fists glowing faintly as he threw everything he had into the creature’s side. The blows landed, hard enough to stagger a normal enemy.The chieftain backhanded him. Evan’s body lifted off the ground and slammed into a low wall with a wet crack. He crumpled, unmoving. “Evan!” Helena shouted. Fire screamed through the air. Lena’s spell shattered against the broadsword as the chieftain cut it apart mid-flight. Another arcanist tried to cast ice. It died the same way. Magic evaporated under the blade like mist in sunlight. The arcanists faltered, hands shaking. Mana was gone. The chieftain advanced.

  Both healers broke formation and rushed to the fallen, skidding across blood-slick stone to reach Calvin and Evan. White light flared desperately as they poured everything they had into keeping them alive. The chieftain lifted its blade again. Dorian stood directly in its path. Shadows curled tight around his feet. The curse in his shoulder burned. His instincts screamed that he was already too late. The broadsword rose high. Time slowed. Not the world. Just him. A translucent screen tore into existence in front of his eyes.

  [TITLE ABILITY AVAILABLE]

  PACK LEADER (ACTIVE)

  Invoke the Dominance of the Alpha

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Temporarily inherit the traits of a defeated leader

  ACTIVATE?

  [YES] [NO]

  The blade began its descent. Dorian didn’t hesitate. “Yes.” The world snapped. Lightning wrapped around his body in a violent coil, white and blue crawling across his limbs and spine. Power surged through him, feral and absolute. His muscles screamed as speed flooded them far beyond anything human. He stepped backward. Not a leap. Not a dive. A single precise movement.

  The broadsword slammed into the stone where he had been standing, the impact sending cracks spidering outward across the courtyard. Dorian stepped onto the blade. His boot planted against the flat of the steel as it embedded itself in the ground. Electricity arced from his leg into the weapon, dancing along its length. The chieftain’s eyes widened. Dorian burst forward. The world blurred. He drove his dagger straight into the chieftain’s eye. The blade sank deep. The chieftain screamed, a sound so loud it rattled windows and sent goblins stumbling back in terror. It clawed at its face, thick fingers scrabbling uselessly as blood poured down its armor. The broadsword slipped from its grasp.

  It hit the ground with a thunderous clang. Dorian landed hard, boots skidding, chest heaving. The lightning faded, leaving his muscles shaking and raw. He didn’t wait. He grabbed the broadsword. It was impossibly heavy. His arms screamed as he lifted it, every point of Strength he possessed burning at once. Veins stood out along his neck as he dragged the blade free of the stone as lightning began to wrap the blade. The chieftain staggered toward him, blind and roaring. Dorian roared back. He swung. The broadsword cleaved through armor, flesh, and bone in a single, devastating arc.

  The chieftain split in two. The upper half toppled forward, crashing to the stone. The lower half followed a heartbeat later. Blood flooded the courtyard, steaming as it spread. For a moment, no one breathed.

  Then the goblins screamed. High-pitched, panicked, broken. They turned and ran, abandoning weapons, mounts, and wounded without hesitation. Wolves fled with them, vanishing into the forest in a frenzy of terror. The courtyard was silent again. A System chime rang out, clear and undeniable.

  [WAVE CLEARED]

  WAVE 2 OF 30 COMPLETE

  NEXT WAVE IN: 11 HOURS, 42 MINUTES

  Another set of notifications followed immediately.

  [LEVEL UP]

  Dorian Black +2 Levels

  Across the field, more screens appeared.

  [LEVEL UP]

  Calvin +1 Level

  Evan Hale +1 Level

  Lena Hale +1 Level

  Maria +1 Level

  Dorian dropped to one knee. The broadsword slipped from his hands and clattered to the ground. Pain rushed back in all at once. His shoulder burned where the curse pulsed beneath torn flesh, dark veins surging outward before retreating again, deeper this time. Helena was at his side instantly, hands shaking as she pressed cloth against the wound.

  “Don’t you ever do that again,” she whispered, voice breaking. He laughed weakly. “No promises.” Nearby, the healers worked frantically as their mana went up some when leveled. Calvin groaned as light knitted shattered bones and bruised organs. Evan coughed and rolled onto his side, gasping as Maria poured everything she had left into him. “Still… hate bosses,” Evan muttered. Calvin pushed himself up onto one elbow and looked at Dorian. The courtyard hadn’t finished cooling. Steam still rose from the chieftain’s corpse, blood pooling around the split halves where the massive body had fallen.

  The broadsword lay between them, half-buried in cracked stone, its edge nicked and scorched, faint red residue still clinging to the metal like it didn’t want to let go. Calvin was the first to move toward it. He rolled his shoulder once, testing it as the last of the healing light faded from his armor. One of his Sentinels hovered nearby, pale and exhausted, but Calvin barely acknowledged her. His eyes were fixed on the weapon. “That sword,” he said, voice rough but steady, “belongs with me.” No one answered right away.

  Calvin stepped closer and planted a boot beside the blade. “I’m a Vanguard. Frontline. Shield and steel. That thing’s wasted on anyone else.” Dorian looked up from where he was sitting against a broken bench, Helena still crouched beside him, fingers sticky with his blood. He followed Calvin’s gaze to the broadsword, then back to Calvin’s face. “Take it,” Dorian said. Calvin blinked. “What?”

  “I don’t give a fuck,” Dorian replied. He pushed himself to his feet slowly, wincing as his shoulder protested. “It’s too heavy anyway.”

  For a moment, Calvin looked like he didn’t know how to respond to that. Then he nodded once, sharp and satisfied, and reached down to grip the hilt. He strained as he lifted it, muscles bulging as the blade came free of the stone with a grinding scrape. He smiled as it settled into his hands. “Figures,” he muttered. “Some things are meant for warriors.” Dorian didn’t answer. His attention had drifted inward. A translucent screen hovered at the edge of his vision, pulsing faintly.

  [TITLE UPDATE]

  PACK LEADER

  LEVEL INCREASED

  Dominance grows stronger.

  Duration extended.

  Affinity amplification increased.

  Another screen slid in beside it.

  [LEVEL UP SUMMARY]

  LEVELS GAINED: +2

  UNALLOCATED STAT POINTS: +10

  Dorian exhaled slowly. He could feel it, the difference, coiled and waiting under his skin. The lightning still hadn’t fully faded. The shadows felt closer now, more responsive, like they were listening instead of watching. Then the screen shifted again. This one felt heavier. Final.

  [CONGRATULATIONS]

  YOU HAVE MET THE REQUIREMENTS TO UNLOCK A CLASS SKILL.

  CLASS: ROGUE

  SKILL SELECTION AVAILABLE.

  PLEASE CHOOSE WISELY.

  THE SYSTEM DOES NOT FORGIVE REGRET.

  Dorian stared at the words. Helena noticed the change in his expression. “What is it?” He didn’t look away from the screen. “Looks like the game just gave me a real choice.” She swallowed. “Good or bad?” Dorian’s lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Probably both.”