5. Her Return

Reaching down, she groaned.

The fall had been precise, landing in a crouch with one hand balancing her on the ground.

Such a fall shouldn't have been a problem. At least, not with her previous body, which she had spent most of her time pushing beyond its limits.

However, now, an ache spread through her legs as if they were about to break, forcing her to remain crouched for a moment.

Was this even a werewolf's body?! She scowled.

"Damn this!"

Slowly, she straightened, her legs trembling. Then she looked around.

A couple of werewolves glanced her way before returning to their excited conversations as they picked out goods.

"Buy me this for the new year, Father!" a child said enthusiastically, pointing at something.

"Fine, fine. I'll buy it for you." The father laughed as he handed the seller some coins.

As expected, nobody recognized the queen of witches. Back in those days, her mere appearance would have sent them into a panic before the fighting broke out.

"Infuriating." She clicked her tongue and resumed walking.

New year? Now she understood what occasion was taking place. If it was the new year, that meant three months had indeed passed since the war. Her expression turned somber. Would she find any survivors?

The farther she walked, the more shifters she encountered. Nothing seemed strange, except for the fact that she passed by them peacefully.

Then came the noise. The sound of drums, followed by shouts.

Ignoring everything about the pack, she continued walking.

When she reached the corner of the market, she halted.

A wooden statue of a woman stood there, its face rough, one hand gripping a stick while its carved mantle hung stiffly.

Red paint scarred its forehead, forming three unmistakable words: WHORE OF RUIN.

Rotten vegetable peels clung to its shoulders, releasing a sour stench. Judging by how filthy it looked, it had endured days of garbage being thrown at it.

A laugh escaped her before turning dark. Even in defeat, she had managed to carve herself into their minds so deeply that they had to create something to remember her by.

How flattering.

Swallowing her emotions, she forced her legs forward.

Soon, she arrived at an open field.

Perhaps it was because of how hungry she was, but the first thing that hit her was the strong scent of grilled meat and wine.

Lamps decorated the field, along with fire torches. Men and women circled the open space, dancing.

"To a peaceful year!" a man shouted, raising his cup.

"Happy New Year!" the others answered with laughter.

While her people lay dead, these beasts feasted!

How could they?

The longer she watched them celebrate, the tighter her fists clenched until her knuckles turned white.

She walked toward the side where there weren't many people and studied the arrangement of the torches.

"You'll regret!" The wolf warned.

Then, without thinking much about it, she pushed one over, sending it crashing onto that booth's tablecloth.

"Hey! What are you doing!" a man snapped as he noticed her.

She didn't even try to pretend it wasn't her doing. Moving to the other nearest lamp, she threw it onto another table.

The lamp crashed, spilling its fuel. The fire spread quickly, catching whatever was on the table and creeping farther.

"I’m warning you. Stop this now!” The wolf tried to wake her up.

The sharp smell of burning cloth rose into the air, alerting more and more.

"Fire!"

It wasn't a large fire, but with the tables so close together, and the lamps containing fuel, it was dangerous. Everyone rushed to put it out.

Grabbing one of the fire torches, she left.

She returned to the statue and stared at it.

She would show them what a ruin could be.

Then she set it alight. Being made of wood, the statue quickly caught fire.

"Who is that woman?" someone asked, pointing at her. "Is she insane?"

"You may hate her, but that doesn't give you the right to burn it!" Another shouted.

She turned toward them, the burning statue towering behind her. Strands of her hair damp. "I was told that if I didn't burn it, she might return!" Firmly she said.

"What nonsense is she spouting?"

They pointed at her. Talked about this crazy woman. Someone even called for the warriors, and soon, two of them pushed through the gathering.

She had planned to return, so she let them seize her by the arms and drag her away.

They threw her into a cell.

She stumbled and fell beside the small bed, immediately stirring up dust that choked her. Combined with the foul stench in the room, it was enough to make her scoff at herself in disbelief.

Behind her, the iron gate slammed shut.

"I warned you! You'll regret this. You're no queen here!" the wolf roared.

She looked at the guards stationed outside the gate. Judging by how she had been dragged here, Nala held no importance in this place.

Perhaps it was time to learn more about her, thanks to the beast's existence inside her.

She sat cross-legged on the floor and took a deep breath.

First, her powers.

She examined her hand. Nothing had changed. She still couldn't heal, and pain throbbed through her exhausted body.

She gripped the edge of the wooden bed and pulled, but the frame shifted only slightly. If she had a werewolf's strength, as she understood it, that bed should have been as light as a piece of paper.

Then she asked, "What's your name?"

A brief silence followed before an answer came.

"Zaphyra."

"Zaphyra," she repeated before asking, "Why haven't you shifted? Can you even do it?"

For a while, there was only silence, not even the slightest rumble.

From the start, that beast had done nothing but talk and threaten. It had never tried anything else. If it were capable of taking control, it could simply seize the body. Yet it hadn't even tried.

"How laughable."

"You! You won't control this body for long!"

She smirked. "How so? Don't tell me you have some kind of seal that's about to break."

"Because Nala is alive."

Her face turned cold.

Nala was alive?

"What do you mean?"

As if Zaphyra had finally found the strength to explain, she answered, "I'm bound to her. If she dies, so do I."

She didn't even want to consider whether it was a lie or the truth. She had no plans of handing this body over.

Then she asked the most important question.

"What rank is Nala?"

Her eyes narrowed as she waited.

You'd better not be an omega!