Chapter 5: Obsidian Fang Fortress

Coriander’s Point of View

The moment I stepped inside the doors of the Obsidian Fang Fortress, I immediately covered my nose. The aura in the air was overwhelming—sharp and suffocating, making my nose sting.

The hallway stretched endlessly before us. It was wide enough for ten men to walk side by side without brushing shoulders. The floor was made of black marble, causing every step I took to echo loudly.

The walls were lined with towering obsidian pillars, each carved with intricate patterns I couldn’t understand. Between them hung massive banners in deep crimson and black, each marked with the sigil of Obsidian Fang—a massive wolf with glowing blue eyes and bared fangs.

Guards stood at intervals along the hallway, completely still. Their presence was far different from the wolves I had encountered back in the Silverpine Pack or any other pack.

Even the servants who passed by kept their heads low, their footsteps quiet and careful, as if one wrong sound could get them dragged away and never be seen again.

This place is seriously creepy.

“Stop staring like a lost pup,” Mavros said without even looking at me.

We walked side by side toward somewhere I didn’t know.

“I’m not staring,” I muttered. “I’m just making sure I didn’t accidentally walk into hell.”

I caught a guard stiffening out of the corner of my eye, so I turned to him and raised a brow, silently telling him I wasn’t intimidated.

“Welcome back, King!” greeted a man with shoulder-length hair. He had a fresh wound near his eyebrow that was slowly healing.

“Yeah, welcome back to hell,” I muttered under my breath—but I didn’t realize he heard me.

Well, why am I even whispering? I swear even my breathing here is probably audible. They’re lycans!

“Who is she, King? Our new servant?” he asked curiously, though he was smiling.

“None of your business, Delta Gun. Now, how is the training going?” King Mavros asked him.

The man immediately straightened his posture and turned serious. “They’re doing great, King. Would you like to see them?”

King Mavros didn’t answer. Instead, he walked ahead, so I quickly followed him.

I was about to move closer and walk beside the King again when someone suddenly grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the back—it was Delta Gun, his brows tightly furrowed.

“Who told you you can walk beside the King? Do you want to die?” he said sharply but in a low voice.

I immediately pulled my arm away and glared at him.

“Who told you you could touch me? Do you want to die too?” I shot back.

“What th—”

“Delta Gun…” King Mavros called, his voice dangerously calm.

Delta Gun straightened instantly and looked toward the King’s back. “Y-Yes, King Mavros?”

“Who told you you can speak to that woman?” he asked.

I turned to Delta Gun and mouthed, “I told you.”

He just gave me a deadly glare, but I ignored him and continued walking beside the King. After a few turns, we finally reached the end of the hallway, where a large metal door stood.

Without any effort, two guards stationed at the entrance opened it.

As the doors swung open, a vast underground arena was revealed before us.

“Wow…” I murmured.

The ground was wide and covered in dark stone mixed with dirt. Around it stood towering black stone walls, enclosing the entire space like a sealed arena.

Is this the legendary training ground of the Lycans?

I had heard Alpha Donald and other Alphas talk about this place before, but it was said that it was almost impossible for ordinary werewolves to enter because it was sacred only to Lycans. There were even rumors that werewolves could lose consciousness just from the overwhelming pressure inside.

Well, my case is different. I am a werewolf, but I still haven’t had my first shift, so maybe that’s why I’m still breathing right now.

We climbed the stairs leading to a terrace-like platform where seats had been prepared for King Mavros and me, but I chose to remain standing instead. I gripped the golden railing and looked down.

Below, dozens of warriors stood in formation. At the front was Delta Gun, speaking to them.

“Begin transformation training!” Delta Gun shouted before stepping aside.

In an instant, the air shifted violently. I couldn’t miss the sound of bones cracking, the shifting of bodies. Their skin changed, their eyes glowed in different colors, and their forms twisted and expanded.

I couldn’t stop the chills that ran through me as I watched each one transform into massive, terrifying Lycan forms—larger, stronger, more monstrous than any werewolf I had ever seen.

“You’re seeing what you call Lycans,” King Mavros said with a faint smirk, still watching his soldiers below.

“They just changed like it was nothing,” I commented.

Not a single scream of pain. Not even panic.

“Because for them, it is nothing,” he replied.

I watched in stunned silence as they fought, moved, and trained with inhuman precision.

A few more minutes passed, but nothing changed—no one was willing to give up.

I gasped. “That one,” I said to King Mavros, pointing down below. “He just broke a stone pillar with one punch,” I added, like a child amazed by a trick.

“Tch, weak,” he said. He didn’t even look at the one I pointed at.

“Weak?! Are you insane?” I blurted out.

He glanced at me. “Compared to me, yes.”

I just rolled my eyes and looked back down. I felt like I wasn’t even blinking anymore as I watched everything unfold.

There was something in my chest… like a pull, like a part of me wanted to join them.

“You’re interested,” King Mavros said.

“No,” I muttered without looking at him. “Just a little,” I added.

I didn’t even realize he had already moved beside me.

“Do you want to go down there?” he asked out of nowhere.

I blinked. “What?” I looked at him like I didn’t hear him right. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“You said you weren’t weak,” he said, as if that alone explained everything.

“I also said I’m not suicidal. If you want to die, don’t drag me into it!” I shot back without holding anything in.

A heavy silence wrapped around us. The only sound left was the distant howls of the Lycans echoing through the arena.

“You want to join them, don’t you?” he broke the silence again. “Train with them.”

I paused and finally turned to face him.

“Oh sure. Let me just go down there and get turned into minced meat by your pet monsters. Is that what you want?” I said sarcastically.

“No,” he replied plainly.

I exhaled sharply and turned away. “Forget it,” I muttered. “I’m not participating in your death arena.”

Without waiting for his response, I walked back toward the stairs leading inside the fortress. I could feel his gaze on my back the entire time, but I didn’t care.

“Where are you going?” he asked, but I didn’t answer. “Careful with the hallways—they’re alive,” he added after me.

I just rolled my eyes and brushed it off.

The hallway felt even longer on the way back. I couldn’t even count how many turns I had taken, but I still couldn’t find my way out.

“We didn’t pass through this earlier,” I muttered.

The corridor ahead felt unfamiliar. I frowned but kept walking. Maybe there was a shortcut here—maybe I’d get lucky.

I shrugged it off. When I tried to look back at where I came from, it no longer looked the same. The banners had changed, and the pillars were closer together.

I rubbed my eyes, making sure I wasn’t hallucinating, but it was real.

So he really meant it when he said the hallway was alive?

Seriously? We’re in the 21st century, and places like this still exist?

I clicked my tongue and walked faster. I tried turning again, but it was the same—wrong every time, or it would loop me back to where I already was.

The fortress didn’t feel like a building anymore. It felt like a maze that shifted whenever I wasn’t looking.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” I called out, immediately regretting it as the hallway swallowed my voice whole, as if no one could possibly hear me.

I continued walking through the endless corridor, until my steps suddenly stopped.

From the left hallway, I heard something. Neither a voice nor footsteps. It was metal dragging against metal.

Don’t tell me there’s a ghost here?!

I grimaced at my own thought. Honestly, something like us is scarier than ghosts.

I don’t know why, but my feet moved on their own toward the sound.

Unlike the other halls, this one was darker. I grabbed a torch mounted on the wall and used it to light my way.

The closer I got, the louder the sound became—until I realized it wasn’t just metal dragging.

Chains.

When I reached the end, I saw it—a metal cell. The bars looked strange, almost crystalline and sharp, like they could cut you just by brushing against them.

I raised the torch slightly, trying to see inside.

Someone was there—sitting on the floor, leaning his head against the wall.

I swallowed hard.

He was staring straight at me without blinking, exhaustion heavy in his eyes. Thick chains bound his wrists and ankles.

He had no shirt on. Long hair covered half his face, and his upper body was covered in wounds and dried blood.

“What the hell?” I whispered in disbelief.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he said in a cold, serious voice.

My heartbeat quickened as if my body was telling me to run.

I blinked. “Yeah,” I muttered. “I was about to say the same thing to you.”