THE RISE OF AN OMEGA

Ryker’s POV

The next thing I felt from behind were claws piercing into my skin. The pain I felt was horrible.

I growled.

I had perfected the ways of making one’s body strong and thick during incidents like this to prevent the enemy from piercing through your body into your heart and ripping it out.

Initially, Ryker was nowhere to be found, but all of a sudden, he appeared behind me; how he did that, I wasn’t sure, but that kind of speed is not natural to a werewolf.

He tried to drive his claws deeper into my body, but he couldn’t; his hands were stuck.

"This is how you want it right? Attack me for. The shadows?" I asked placing my right hand on his arms, the one that was stuck in my back.

With a lot of force, I hit him at his elbow joint; I could hear the sound of his bones cracking.

Asher growled in pain, pulling his hands off me, he charged towards me again with his left arm.

I managed to dodge, but not without a scratch on my face.

I thought his elbow breaking would slow him down, but it didn’t. He was even fighting like he wasn’t injured at all.

I barely had time to react as Asher came at me again moving with a speed that was almost impossible for me to track.

Though his broken arms hung limply at his side, it didn’t make him slow. Instead, it seemed like the pain was fuel to the rage inside, driving him into an even more aggressive madness.

His claws slashed through the air, inches away from my throat. I twisted my body just in time, narrowly avoiding a deadly strike. If I had been hit with that strike, I would have been long-dead by now.

But Asher wasn’t giving up; he spun around, using the uninjured arm to strike again; his claws caught my shoulders, leaving behind a deep, stinging cut.

I gritted my teeth, my mind racing. This wasn’t normal. A werewolf, no matter how strong they were, should have been weakened by a broken limb, but Asher was different; he still moved with unnatural speed, like he wasn’t feeling any pain at all.

His golden eyes burned with an unnatural intensity, and his expression changed into something almost inhuman. Every time I dodged, Ryker would adjust immediately, already countering; his movements were too fast and too precise.

It felt like I was fighting a shadow, a force that wasn’t going to slow down. My instinct screamed at me this wasn’t just an ordinary battle. Something was wrong with Asher.

He isn’t a normal werewolf anymore.

Asher didn’t allow me a moment to catch my breath. He moved quicker than earlier, his strikes more intense, more accurate—almost as if he were understanding my actions while we battled.

I swerved to the side, but before I could completely find my balance, he was already upon me. His fist struck my ribs with tremendous strength, causing me to slide across the ground.

Pain surged through my abdomen, intense and burning, yet I compelled myself to remain standing.

I cleaned the blood from my mouth, my gaze fixed on him. He isn’t supposed to be this powerful. An injured arm might have hindered him, yet Asher battled as if he felt no discomfort at all. Each blow was equally swift, equally lethal as the previous one.

Then, for a brief moment, I noticed something—something hiding within his gaze. A flash of darkness, thumping like an alternate force inside him. My intuition shouted at me.

This was not merely unrefined strength. This was something even more terrible. Something artificial.

Asher grinned, his tone overflowing with amusement. "You’re restraining yourself, Ryker," he mocked. "However, I am not."

Before I had the chance to respond, he lunged once more, even quicker than earlier. I hardly had a moment to prepare myself.

I couldn’t avoid it indefinitely—I needed to retaliate. Clenching my jaw, I firmed my position, compelling my body to move beyond the discomfort. Asher approached me once more, his motions disconcertingly accurate, but this time, I was prepared.

As he swung at me, I crouched down and punched his ribs with all the strength I could gather. The effect was strong, a pleasing snap echoing in the air, yet Asher hardly responded.

He wobbled for a moment before charging at me once more, his claws swinging perilously near my neck.

I shifted my body, avoiding the hit just in time, and retaliated with a swift elbow to his jaw. He turned his head sharply to the side, yet instead of pulling back, he smiled—a devious, disquieting smile that sent a shiver down my spine. It felt like he was completely unaffected by my strikes as if some other force was propelling him onward.

I declined to give in. Focusing my strength, I delivered a strong kick to his chest, propelling him into a nearby tree. The earth shook from the collision, yet Asher rose as if it were effortless. My stomach knotted. This was not typical. There was something off about him.

Asher shouldn’t have been able to remain upright so easily after that collision. My kick had enough force to break ribs, yet he barely displayed any signs of being affected. He straightened up, rolling his shoulders as if dismissing a minor irritation rather than a severe attack.

That’s when I saw it once more—the shadow in his eyes flickering, swirling like a storm about to break. My instincts yelled at me. This went beyond simply his werewolf abilities. This was something unique. Something spooky.

A grin emerged on his lips. "Are you figuring it out?" he joked, his tone laced with amusement. "Took you a considerable amount of time."

A soft tremor resonated in my chest, but I would not allow his words to disturb me. I couldn’t afford to pay for it. Instead, I focused on his body, searching for signs of stress, but did not find any. His broken arm should have been useless, yet he moved his fingers as if it had healed. That was not possible.

All of a sudden, the environment around us shifted. A strange, heavy pressure pressed down on me, filled with something ancient and disturbing.

My muscles tensed involuntarily. The strength inside Asher—it was not solely his own. An additional source was feeding him. And it was growing more intense.

I needed to conclude this immediately. Whatever was driving Asher was intensifying with each passing second. His actions were bizarre, his injuries mending too quickly, and that shadowy force in his gaze—it was observing me. Computing.

Asher charged once more, quicker than earlier, his claws targeting my neck directly. Yet this time, I didn’t merely evade—I hit back. I turned my body at the final moment, seizing his wrist in a tight hold and leveraging his momentum to my advantage.

Using all my power, I threw him to the floor. The ground split open beneath us, and as dust and rubble ascended into the atmosphere, Asher chuckled—a deep, eerie noise that sent shivers through my body.

"You think that’s enough?" he mocked, his tone unsettlingly steady.

His muscles tightened, and before I could respond, a shadowy energy erupted from inside him. The force generated a shockwave that coursed through the earth, pushing me away. I hardly succeeded in remaining upright as the air became denser with that same eerie force.

Asher remained standing; his once red eyes, were entirely black now. A wicked smile spread over his face.

"You’re late, Ryker," he whispered. "The actual battle begins now."

I tightened my fists, urging my body to remain steady as the burden of the unnatural energy bore down on me. Every instinct within me shouted that this was no longer merely a conflict between two werewolves.

Something much more sinister had entrenched itself in Asher, transforming him into something beyond our species.

He moved forward slowly, rolling his shoulders as though to discard the final traces of his old self. The light in his eyes had vanished—substituted by an engulfing darkness that appeared to throb with its vitality.

His injuries had recovered, his previously fractured arm functioning as if it had never been hurt. My stomach knotted. This wasn’t renewal. This was something different—something unnatural compelling his body to heal.

"Asher..." I muttered, my tone deep. "What on earth did you do?"

He released a soft laugh, tilting his head as if entertained. "I’ve just accepted what was destined to happen," he stated, his voice multifaceted, as if another presence was communicating with him. "And you?" You’re still holding on to your boundaries, to the frailty of your body.

A frigid shiver slithered down my back. This wasn’t merely power—this was ownership. Something had seized him, and it wasn’t releasing its grip.

Suddenly, in a flash, he stood before me. I had hardly any time to respond before his clawed hand gripped my throat, effortlessly lifting me off the ground in a frightening manner. My lungs ached while I fought against his hold, yet his power was too much.

"You were never my equal, Ryker," he murmured, his dark eyes squinting. "And now, you will never be."

The shadow inside him throbbed—greedy, vibrant. For the first time, I experienced genuine fear.