Chapter 68 Tournament of Death; First Match (Declan POV)
The first match was supposed to start five minutes ago, but Helena Wright was still arguing with the referee about what constituted legal contact under Silver Moon conditions.
"I'm just saying," she insisted, her Pennine Pack second backing her up, "if the moon's influence makes everyone's strength triple, then normal tackle rules don't apply. We need adjusted parameters."
"The rules are the rules," the Scottish official said, looking profoundly uncomfortable with the entire situation. "Supernatural football regulations don't change based on lunar cycles."
"They do when the lunar cycle is a once-every-seventeen-years event that's currently making everyone's wolf lose their mind!"
I caught Callum's eye from where he stood on the sidelines. He made a subtle gesture… get on with it mixed with this is ridiculous.
He was right. We were wasting time arguing over tackle regulations while Edmund's hunters positioned themselves throughout the facility. Every minute we delayed was another minute for them to finalize their attack.
"We'll play by standard rules," I called out, loud enough to cut through Helena's continued argument. "Greyfang accepts regulation contact parameters. Can we start now?"
Helena shot me a look that promised future violence but nodded. "Fine. But when someone breaks something important because tackle force is amplified, I'm blaming you."
"Noted."
The referee looked relieved. "Right then. Greyfang Pack versus Pennine Pack, first heat of The Culling. Teams to starting positions!"
I gathered my team in the center of the arena… Callum, Owen, Kieran, Liam, Connor, and two others from the pack. Eight wolves total, the traditional Culling team number.
"Remember," I said quietly, "this isn't actually about winning the match. This is about maintaining normalcy until Edmund's trap springs. We play, we look focused on the tournament, we don't tip our hand that we know what's coming."
"So we're performing for hunters watching from hidden positions," Owen said. "Lovely. I've always wanted my probable death to be dinner theater."
"Owen."
"Performing! Got it! I'll make my inevitable demise very entertaining!"
Pennine Pack took their positions across the arena. Helena at center, her second Elena on the wing, six others I didn't know as well spread across the formation. All of them looked tense… partly from game nerves, mostly from the Silver Moon's influence making everyone's wolf demand they shift and fight and establish dominance.
The referee held up the ball… regulation supernatural football, reinforced to withstand werewolf strength. "Standard Culling rules apply. First to five goals or highest score after thirty minutes wins the match. Excessive violence will result in penalties. Deliberate killing results in immediate pack disqualification."
That last part felt darkly ironic considering Edmund planned to kill everyone within the hour.
"Teams ready?"
I nodded. Helena nodded.
The referee threw the ball straight up.
I shifted mid-leap.
The transformation under Silver Moon influence was instant… one moment human, next moment wolf, my consciousness clear but my body operating on enhanced instincts the ancient power provided. I caught the ball in my jaws before Helena could reach it, landed, shifted back to human while still moving, and hurled the ball to Callum who was already sprinting toward Pennine's goal.
The crowd of watching werewolves from other packs roared approval. This was what they'd come to see… supernatural athleticism pushed to impossible limits, the kind of competition that only happened during Culling tournaments when the best fighters from every pack gathered to prove dominance.
Callum passed to Owen, who dodged Elena's tackle with a move that looked like bad dancing but functionally worked. Owen shifted, leaped twelve feet vertically to avoid another defender, shifted back mid-air, and threw the ball to Kieran who was positioned perfectly near Pennine's goal.
Kieran caught it, faked left, went right, and scored.
Ninety seconds into the match. First goal.
The crowd went absolutely feral. Howling, stamping, some wolves shifting involuntarily from pure excitement. The Silver Moon's energy feeding into everyone's emotional responses until spectator enthusiasm became physical force.
"That's one!" Owen shouted, grinning like a maniac. "Four more and we win! This is easy! Why were we worried?"
"Because we're not actually here to win the tournament," Callum reminded him. "We're here to not die when Edmund's trap springs."
"Can't I enjoy the part before the dying? Let me have this."
Helena's pack had possession now. They moved fast… not as coordinated as Greyfang but more aggressive, willing to take risks we'd normally avoid. Elena caught a pass, shifted, used her wolf form's speed to blow past our defensive line.
Connor intercepted, tackling her hard enough that they both went down in a tangle of limbs and fur. The referee blew his whistle.
"Excessive force! Penalty to Pennine!"
"That was a clean tackle!" Connor protested.
"Under normal circumstances, yes. Under Silver Moon amplification, you nearly broke her ribs. Penalty stands."
Connor grumbled but backed off. The penalty gave Pennine Pack a free throw from midfield… Helena took it, her throw precise enough to reach her forward who scored before our defense could adjust.
One to one.
The match continued with brutal intensity. Both packs were operating at levels that would be impossible under normal lunar conditions… leaping twenty feet horizontally, moving faster than human eyes could track, passing with precognitive accuracy that came from the Silver Moon amplifying pack bonds to telepathic levels.
I scored the second goal three minutes later, catching a pass from Liam and shifting mid-run to use wolf speed for the final sprint to Pennine's goal. Two to one, Greyfang.
Helena equalized thirty seconds after that. Two to two.
The crowd was loving it. This was supernatural football at its absolute peak… the kind of competition that only happened every seventeen years when the Silver Moon provided power that transcended normal werewolf abilities.
And through it all, I kept watching for Edmund's hunters. Kept scanning the upper galleries for weapon positions. Kept waiting for the trap to spring.
It happened at the seven-minute mark.
I had just passed to Owen, who was setting up what would probably be our third goal, when the lights cut out.
Total darkness for exactly three seconds.
Then emergency systems engaged… but not normal emergency lighting.
UV lights flooded the facility.
Sickly purple-white illumination that burned exposed werewolf skin on contact. Wolves in the arena and galleries screamed, scrambling for shadows that didn't exist because Edmund had positioned the lights to eliminate all darkness.
"This ends tonight."
Edmund's voice over loudspeakers, projected throughout the facility with cold professional precision.
The crowd's excitement transformed into panic in seconds. Wolves trying to shift to human to speak, to understand, to rationalize what was happening. Others trying to escape, clawing at sealed exits. A few attacking each other in misdirected terror.
Silver gas began pumping through vents with a hissing sound that cut through the chaos.
Helena was beside me suddenly, her game aggression transformed into tactical focus. "This is the trap. The one you warned about."
"Yes."
"And we're ready for it?"
"As ready as five weeks allows."
"That's not reassuring!"
"Not meant to be!" I shifted to wolf form, threw my head back, and howled… the Alpha call that every Greyfag Pack member recognized as emergency positions now.
My pack scattered to predetermined locations. Callum to communications. Owen to medical support despite his protests about lacking medical knowledge. Kieran to weapons acquisition from the caches we'd documented. Liam and Connor to crowd control.
Other packs were responding to their own Alphas' calls… Highland moving north, Welsh south, Irish east. The coordination we'd practiced for weeks kicking in despite panic and Silver Moon influence degrading everyone's rational thought.
But it wasn't enough. Couldn't be enough.
Because Edmund's hunters were breaching from hidden doors built into the facility's structure, positions we hadn't documented because they'd been concealed behind false walls.
Twenty-three hunters emerged into the arena and galleries. Men and women in tactical gear with silver weapons, UV flashlights, and expressions of cold professional determination.
"Weapons free," one of them said into his radio. "Engage all targets."
The firing started.
Silver rounds hit the wolf nearest to me… one of Rowan's pack, I didn't know his name. He went down screaming, his body convulsing as silver poisoning spread through his system.
Another hunter appeared on the catwalk above, aiming at the clustered wolves trying to disable the UV lights. He fired three times. Two wolves fell.
"Return fire!" someone shouted… Gabriel's voice, his survivors reacting with the efficiency of people who'd fought hunters before.
But we didn't have guns. Didn't have ranged weapons. We had claws and teeth and supernatural strength that meant nothing when hunters could shoot us from positions we couldn't reach.
I shifted to human long enough to grab a fallen hunter's weapon… tackled him first, disarmed him second, appropriated his gun third. The silver rounds would poison me too if I wasn't careful, but at least I could shoot back.
Aimed at a hunter targeting wolves in the north gallery. Fired.
Missed. I wasn't trained for firearms. Being Alpha didn't magically grant marksmanship.
Tried again. This time hit the hunter's shoulder. He dropped his weapon, fell back.
"Declan!" Vivienne's voice through the communication network. "I need you covering me while I force transformations on the infected!"
Infected. Right. Some wolves had been bitten during the initial chaos. They'd be transforming uncontrollably soon, becoming threats to allies.
I shifted, sprinted toward where Vivienne stood in human form, her hands raised as she chanted in the ancient tongue. Three wolves were frozen mid-shift around her, locked in transformation by Silvermane authority.
A hunter appeared behind her, raising a weapon.
I hit him before he could fire, my wolf form's momentum sending us both crashing into the gallery railing. He tried to stab me with a silver knife… hunters always had backups… but I caught his wrist in my jaws, bit down until bones broke and the weapon fell.
"Thanks!" Vivienne called, not looking away from the three frozen wolves. "Can you keep doing that? I need about three more minutes to process these infected before they attack someone!"
Three minutes felt like eternity in active combat. But I positioned myself defensively, taking down two more hunters who tried to target Vivienne while she worked.
The battle was chaos. Wolves fighting hunters in desperate close combat. Some packs were coordinating well… Highland and Welsh working together to disable UV lights despite not being allied before today. Others were fracturing… Pennine Pack scattered across multiple positions without clear coordination, some members trying to fight while others tried to escape.
And through it all, the Silver Moon poured down power that made everyone stronger and more dangerous and significantly less rational.
A hunter got past my defense, aimed at Vivienne from an angle I couldn't cover.
Helena Wright appeared from nowhere, tackling him in wolf form. They hit the ground hard, the hunter's weapon skittering away. Helena shifted to human, punched him hard enough that his head snapped back.
"You warned us!" she shouted at me. "You said there'd be a trap and I didn't fully believe you! I'm sorry!"
"Apologize later!" I shifted to human. "Right now, help me cover Vivienne!"
"Already on it!"
The three of us formed a defensive triangle… me watching the north approach, Helena covering south, Vivienne in the center forcing transformations on infected wolves who were starting to spread throughout the facility as hunter bites created more victims.
"This isn't working!" Helena said after the fifth hunter tried to breach our position. "We're defensive, they're offensive! We need to attack their command structure!"
She had a point. Hunters were coordinating too well, covering each other's positions with practiced efficiency that suggested extensive training together. If we could disrupt their command structure…
"There!" I pointed to a hunter in the upper gallery who was clearly giving orders via radio. "He's coordinating the south team! Take him down!"
Helena shifted, leaped across an impossible distance… the Silver Moon allowing her to clear a gap no normal werewolf could cross. She hit the command hunter hard enough to send them both through the gallery railing, falling twenty feet to the arena floor below.
Both got up. Helena faster.
She shifted to human long enough to grab the hunter's radio.
Then she crushed the radio and shifted back to wolf form before the hunter could retaliate.