Roderik Langeveld sat in the back of the limousine, the low hum of the engine a constant companion as the vehicle sped through the familiar roads leading to the Wind Pack's territory. The chauffeur, a quiet, efficient man, navigated the winding path with ease, but Roderik's mind was elsewhere, heavy with the burden he carried. He hadn't been summoned merely to deliver a message—he had come to witness the consequences of arrogance, arrogance so grave it now threatened to unravel everything the Ookaze clan had built.
As the scenery blurred past the tinted windows, Roderik's gaze hardened. The Ookaze had made a reckless move, one now poised to backfire with devastating force. Their use of the forbidden Moonlight Palm to control Kagerou—a being none of them truly understood—had set irreversible events into motion. Roderik had seen the aftermath firsthand, and he knew the repercussions would ripple far beyond the Wind Pack's borders. The entire lycan world would feel the tremors.
The limousine slowed as the towering gates of the Wind Pack's compound creaked open, metal groaning like some ancient beast. As the vehicle rolled through, a familiar tightness gripped Roderik's chest. He had shaped his own pack with discipline and reverence for the natural order. Manipulation of that order—especially for personal ambition—was something he could neither excuse nor forgive.
The car came to a halt before the great stone structure that served as the Wind Pack's central meeting hall. Outside, an assembly of alphas had already gathered, their faces a mixture of expectation and unease. Tension crackled in the air like a coming storm.
Roderik stepped out, the crisp wind tugging at the edges of his coat. Without a word, he strode forward, his footsteps deliberate and unyielding against the stone. Akechi Ookaze stood waiting, pale and rigid, his inner circle clustered behind him. The other alphas formed a loose semicircle around them, their eyes following Roderik's every move.
"Alpha Langeveld," Akechi said stiffly, a shadow of defiance still clinging to his voice. "I didn't expect you to return so soon."
"You didn't expect me?" Roderik's voice was cold, slicing through the thick air. "After what you attempted against a primordial wolf, did you truly believe there would be no consequences?"
At his words, a ripple of confusion swept through the gathered alphas. Murmurs broke out among them, wary glances exchanged like sparks across dry timber.
"Consequences?" one alpha murmured.
"Alpha Langeveld, is there some misunderstanding?" Alpha Suzuki asked, stepping forward, his tone cautious but urgent. "What exactly has happened?"
The others echoed him in a rising chorus:
"What crime has the Ookaze Alpha committed?"
"And who is this primordial wolf you speak of?"
Roderik allowed the silence to stretch, letting the weight of the moment press down on them all. Only when the air seemed thick enough to choke did he speak, his voice sharp and commanding.
"In Kageoden," he began, "the daughter of Alpha Akechi Ookaze—the Wind Pack's Gamma—used the forbidden Moonlight Palm technique. She attempted to control Hizuki Kagerou, Alpha of the Shadow Wolf Pack."
Gasps rippled through the assembly. Alphas stiffened, eyes widening with disbelief.
But Roderik wasn't finished. His next words fell like a hammer:
"The attempt failed. What none of you knew—what few ever suspected—is that Hizuki Kagerou is no ordinary alpha. He is the reincarnation of the Ancestor—the first Lycan King—and the master of Kagerou, the primordial wolf, ergo, immune to the Moonlight Palm."
The shock was palpable. It was as if the very ground beneath them had shifted.
Faces turned pale. Some alphas staggered a step back, as if the air itself had become too heavy to breathe. Though they had long recognized Hizuki's strength—born of the bloodline of the strongest Alpha of the previous generation—they had never imagined this.
Until now, Hizuki had been regarded as a dangerous anomaly, the one whose birth had triggered the Moon Goddess's curse—a figure of tragedy, not supremacy.
But this? This changed everything.
Roderik's own thoughts flickered back to Kageoden, to the chilling realization he had come to. When he spoke to the one known as Hizuki Kagerou, he was certain it was not merely Hizuki standing before him—but Kagerou, the primordial wolf himself. In hindsight, Roderik had no way of knowing whether Hizuki, the man, was aware of his true nature. It wasn't widespread knowledge. But any who understood the ancient laws knew this: the appearance of a primordial wolf meant the soul of their original master—the first Lycan King—had returned.
Hizuki Kagerou was no lie. He was the truth incarnate. The living echo of the beginning of their kind.
The room began to divide.
Those who instinctively trusted Roderik—those with deeper roots in the old ways—moved closer to him, drawn by the gravity of his revelation. Others hesitated, their skepticism carved deep into their faces, unwilling or unable to accept the enormity of what had been spoken.
One alpha, clinging to logic, spoke out: "Alpha Langeveld, surely there's a mistake? The Moonlight Palm was the exclusive domain of the Shinrei Mikazuki—the sacred healers. How could the Ookaze clan possess it?"
"There is no mistake," Roderik replied, his voice iron and his gaze locked unflinchingly on Akechi. "Do not forget—the Shinrei Mikazuki and the Ookaze clans share the same bloodline. As long as their lineage endures, the salutaries of the Ookaze can perform the Moonlight Palm."
A heavy silence fell over the hall.
The implication was clear to all.
It was no secret that the ancestor of the healer clan had been a banished child of the alpha, centuries ago. He built his own clan and lived peacefully in hiding, until the Moon Goddess commanded them to reveal themselves and aid the other clans. Because of this, the original clan—the Ookaze—grew jealous, realizing too late that their decline had begun when they banished the true bearer of the Moon Goddess's blessing, severing their significance in the world.
During the Great War, the Shinrei Mikazuki were hunted to extinction—not for crimes, but for the envy and fear they inspired. As for who was responsible, there was no need to guess. It was entirely plausible—inevitable even—that the remnants of their sacred knowledge had found refuge, or been stolen, by those who shared their blood.
The weight of Roderik's words pressed down like a physical force.
This was no simple crime. It was a betrayal of their most sacred laws, a violation of the natural order their fragile peace rested upon.
"So?" Akechi's voice rang out, brittle and defiant. "What are you going to do about it?"
Roderik's eyes narrowed, his aura sharpening like a blade drawn from a sheath. It was clear Akechi still clung to the belief that power and influence would shield him from judgment.
Around them, the reactions were swift. The alphas who had hesitated now recoiled at Akechi's audacity.
"So it's true," one muttered, anger flashing in his eyes. "Alpha Ookaze, what have you done?"
The divide that had once seemed even now became stark. More alphas shifted to Roderik's side, even those who had been long neutral—the Japanese alphas among them. Those who remained near Akechi were few, mostly the weaker pack leaders who had long survived by currying favor from the Wind Pack's wealth and influence.
"The Moonlight Palm is taboo," one elder alpha growled, his voice thick with disgust. "Alpha Ookaze, the mere fact you allowed your people to learn it is disgraceful. But to use it—to wield it against a living Alpha—is not merely reckless. It is criminal."
No one stepped forward to defend Akechi now. Even those who remained beside him kept their heads bowed, unable to meet the others' eyes. The judgment was no longer in Roderik's hands alone—it was written plainly on the faces of every alpha standing in that hall. And for Akechi Ookaze, there would be no mercy.
Yet even now, the Wind Pack's Alpha showed no fear. In fact, his defiance seemed to harden.
"Again, so what about it?" Akechi challenged, scandalizing everyone present. His voice rang out boldly, as if daring the assembly to oppose him. "You might be the strongest alpha, but what can you do to me? This is a modern society. You can't simply commit murder on international soil."
It was true. According to the international pact established the previous year among the wolf clans, all disputes and challenges had to be formally filed to the country's Head Alpha, and only the local lord had the authority to judge his own people. Without sanction, any act of violence would be considered a crime under international law.
Roderik felt the sharp urge to wipe the smirk off Akechi Ookaze's face, but he held himself back. He was not the executioner. He was merely the herald—the one who would summon judgment.
"Oh, I won't do anything," Roderik said coolly, his lip curling in disgust. "But someone will."
"Someone?" Akechi echoed, sneering.
As if summoned by fate itself, the door of the very limousine Roderik had arrived in earlier opened once more. From within, a figure stepped out—a man tall and lean, dressed in a formal black kimono embroidered with faint silver threads that shimmered under the dim light. His face was hidden behind a white fox mask, adorned with elegant strokes of red, gold, and black.
At first glance, he did not seem physically overwhelming. But the moment he set foot on the ground, the air around them shifted violently. A wave of raw, electrifying power rolled outward, thick and suffocating, making the very atmosphere tremble. The weaker wolves staggered where they stood; some gasped for breath, others struggled merely to remain upright. Even seasoned alphas instinctively straightened, as if their bodies recognized something their minds were not yet ready to accept.
It was not simply strength. It was absolute authority—ancient, inexorable, and suffocating in its sheer presence.
Akechi Ookaze felt it more acutely than anyone. The blood drained from his face; his bravado collapsed into nothingness. His mouth opened, but no words came. His knees buckled, and with a hollow gasp, he crumpled to the ground in a full collapse, as if his very soul had been ripped from him.
"A-Alpha Kagerou..." he choked out, barely audible, trembling where he knelt.
The hall was dead silent. Even the most skeptical among them now understood. Whatever illusions they had clung to about Hizuki Kagerou being merely another strong alpha had shattered completely. This was not just power they were witnessing—it was sovereignty itself, returned to their world after centuries lost to legend.