Novel & Cerita Crookedstar Warriors

Followed by a Gamma, whose main function is to protect her. Then follows Mathew, yeah, the name appears in her mind because he is currently holding that title (the head of the warriors) and because she is so proud of him. Next follows the warriors and then the Elders, then the Omegas and, finally, at the bottom of the ranks in the werewolf world, are the Rogues.

asked a dark-haired girl beside me with kind brown eyes. James chuckled. “Dear pack members, this is Laila—my most amazing gift from the Moon Goddess.” I raised a brow at him but couldn’t help a small smile. He flashed me his signature smile and winked. “That’s our female gamma, Kate,” he added, pointing to the black haired beside me. “And next to her is her mate and our gamma, Dereck.” Dereck, a broad man with dark hair and brown eyes, held Kate close with one arm. His wide face and beard contrasted her delicate features, but something about them made me think they could be siblings too.

“1 Star to 2 Star Warriors are called Scrubs while 3 Star and 4 Star warriors are referred to as Broilers. Starting from 5 Stars, Beastmen are sorted out a bit differently. 5 Star Beastmen are called High Stars while 6 Stars are referred to as Unique Stars. As for 7 Stars, they are called Crowns.” “I guess they didn’t try to get a proper title for anyone under 5 Star huh. Such terrible naming sense!” Kylie bemoaned the creativity of the Beastmen. They literally referred to their low rank warriors as garbage and chickens. She was not even garbage yet! That was the worst part!

The memories of that day, the last moment of happiness I had felt as my brother had given me a hug and taken the stage, his handsome face glowing with happiness. “MysticWarriors, my pack, was a very small one and ancient,” I answered. “We didn’t believe in fighting for power, we believed in peace and kept to ourselves. It has been like that for years. We were all powerful warriors by blood but having power and strength doesn’t mean needing to exercise it. That day we were taken by surprise and were heavily outnumbered. But we fought, to the end, till each one of us fell apart but…” “But…”

“Fuck. I could have sworn they would have known who we were. We fucking introduced themselves.” They both slammed hundred dollar bills on the table. Bryan added another and Auri came over from the kitchen where she was standing and gathered the money, shoving it in her pocket. I looked at them, confused. “Goddess, he really doesn’t know.” Lucy shook her head and left my side. “No wonder they have been treating us like shit.” “Shall we reintroduce ourselves then?” Hector smiled, leaning against the table. “We’ll start.” One of the head warriors smiled. “I’m AJ, Jax is my older brother. We are known more in the mercenary community as The Bloodblades.”

We are the strongest members, so we will be facing the alphas, cutting it down with a swift strike. “We’ve got this,” he said, his voice a steady anchor amidst the chaos. I nodded, my focus never wavering. “We have to.” The battle raged on, the line between friend and foe blurring as bodies fell on both sides. The Bluecreek warriors fought with a desperation born of starvation, their movements wild and unpredictable. But my warriors fought with purpose, their loyalty and need for revenge, and driving them forward. They fought viciously.

Adrian's warriors were better. This was simply true. The Dark Moon fighters were not merely trained, they were forged. Years of discipline and the particular seriousness of a pack that had never had the luxury of resting on reputation. Darius's warriors were skilled, but they were Silvercrest, a pack that had spent decades being respected and had perhaps forgotten what it meant to fight for survival.

One warrior cried out before collapsing, his chest split open by a curved blade that didn’t bleed, it smoked. Wolves shifted mid-charge. Growls and howls rang out. Cries of pain. The clash of steels. The ridge erupted into chaos. The Starblood warriors fought fiercely but the attackers were unlike anything they’d faced. They didn’t growl or scream. They didn’t shout commands. They struck and vanished. Luca barely deflected a blade from his throat, the force sending him to his knee. He rolled away and rose, snarling, blood trickling from a shallow cut at his temple. He howled a command, voice echoing over the ridge.

Shadow sliced his palm, adding it to the mixture in the chalice, and his deep voice carried over the entire pack as he recited the Howling Warriors creed. "A Howling warrior is strong when they need to be, gentle when they choose to be, and ruthless when they have to be. We will not cower, nor hide behind each other in times of crisis, we stand tall against our enemies, together we are the Howling Warriors, and together we are strong."

Groups of shifters, no longer bound by an Alpha's command after Silas’s death, had turned feral or formed marauding bands. "Stay low," Leo whispered as we moved through a ravine. "There’s a patrol up ahead. They aren't wearing the Blood-Crag colors." We crouched behind a pile of jagged rocks. Below us, a group of ten warriors marched down the road. They were massive, their skin covered in charcoal-black war paint, and they carried silver-tipped pikes. But it was their sigil that made my blood run cold. It wasn't a howling wolf. It was a wolf with its throat torn open, a crown of thorns resting on its head.