Badass Wolves の小説・ストーリー

Without hesitation, Blaze leaps into the fray, his fur bristling with fury as he launches himself at the nearest rogue, teeth flashing in a display of primal dominance. Alexa and Dexter, their own wolf form a blur of motion and grace, and join Blaze in the fight, their movements fluid and coordinating as they engage the rogues with a fierce determination. Alexa's sleek black fur glistens in the moonlight as she dances around her opponents, her agility a testament to her skill in combat. Dexter, a massive gray wolf with eyes as sharp as flint, moved with calculated precision, his strength a formidable force to be reckoned with.

He loved coming to the casino, not to gamble, the supply of liquor, always managed to put a smile on his face. Wolves who had an issue with shifting or who haven’t found their mate, tended to drink. Sex wasn’t good enough for them because the only women they could fuck were humans, and their holes were too small to accommodate our fat cocks. Frustrated to the point of madness was not an understatement. No, we needed mates. For some reason their holes were bigger and could satisfy us completely. Yet, Winter never had this issue. In some ways he was the perfect one out of us three.

The armies kept trying and when they were not able to make a scratch at the two beasts, they decided to retreat, but they could not as Iron was already alive, and he was standing by the road, where stood as the only road they were supposed to pass, he stood and forceful pulled out the last arrow by his chest, and just as said by the priest, the arrow wounded his heart, and that turned around and made him love violent always. He was more than a werewolf his eyes were blazing like fire, the little girl now a dragon, had wing, she must have been a dragon before, and many that went toward the exit were burnt by the fire, the warriors tried all they could, but their strength was not enough, and j

I muttered, forcing my hands to relax. My heartbeat rattled in my ears as I considered the pack. Soon, the full moon would bring chaos. It always did. I thought of the mateless wolves. Of the young ones who had yet to bond. Some would awaken in joy, others in heartbreak. I had seen both, and I knew the pain that came with rejection, with disappointment. Some wolves never found their mates, and the wolfless nights… they could drive the strongest to madness.

There was a tale passed through generations, reaching the 21st Century, about a group of werewolves’ special mutation that brings out dormant abilities from a family’s genetic line. They were said to be marked and blessed by the moon goddess for they were the first of her followers. They were given the title of Legacy Wolves, keeping up their tradition and passing on their special traits through their children.

All the warriors were conditioned to live life as if they were in active battle so they moved without urgency or fear as we embarked on one of the greatest journeys of our pack. “Let’s end this,” I said. He followed behind me as we went to where the others were gathered. There were over two hundred wolves that would start the operation and we had several backups, all of whom would come after us. We would devastate Blood Moon hard and fast. I shifted. My senses sharpened. The ground underneath quivered with the paws of so many wolves moving at once in the same direction. Blood Moon didn’t know we were coming. Not yet. By the time we got to the borders, their soldiers were just changing shifts

They'll learn the meaning of regret tonight. Through the chaos, a flash of silver catches my eye. A monstrous wolf, larger than any of ours, barrelled towards Callista. It's their leader, the Alpha of the Crimson Moon pack. I have seen his wolf on some occasions. He is a beast known for his savage strength. Callista ducks under its snapping jaws, but the brute spins, aiming a vicious swipe at her flank, between her shoulder and hip.

Just as he was about to break through the last line of trees, a sudden growl erupted in the shadows. From the darkness, a pack of wolves lunged at him—eyes burning red, their movements feral and synchronized. The ambush was swift and merciless. Morgan’s body reacted instinctively. With one powerful leap, he evaded the first wolf, his claws extending midair as he landed with a crushing blow on another. Bones cracked under his strength, a reminder that he was no ordinary wolf—he was the true Alpha, and his blood carried power none could rival. The attackers circled him, snarling and snapping, their numbers overwhelming. But Morgan stood tall, his aura radiating like a storm. The air around him

Plan B was currently searching through the areas the pack thought were protected. Somewhere between here and there, two wolves moving like a blur of fur raced down the mountain—one pitch black and one pure white, like yin and yang. They would leap to outpace each other, but they only looked like fish playing and jumping out the water, their scales glinting under the moonlight. They smile, they smirk. They tease, they laugh.

His wolf, as dark as night itself, was a shadow among shadows, capable of blending into the darkness without a trace. Damian Slovan Sletherion from the Ironclad Pack stood like a giant, his muscular frame towering over most. His short, dark brown hair and stern expression only enhanced his reputation as one of the most powerful alphas, his pack renowned for their unmatched strength and combat prowess. Damian's wolf was a massive, iron-gray beast with a thick, imposing build that could crush opponents with brute force.