Reborn as the Lycan Beta

Chapter 4. Boy, Were We So Wrong!

Sylvan POV

Somewhere in Northumberland Forest

Not Too Long Ago (Flashback Cont’d.)

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY MORGAN!”

We all shouted when we finished singing with a flute, fiddle, and mandolin ensemble accompaniment.

“Thank you!” My little boy Morgan shouted back, grinning; his eyes wide and twinkling as he looked at everyone’s faces filled with love. He then blew his candles and everyone clapped.

The party had only just begun. Once more, the flute-fiddle-mandolin ensemble played as the food was served.

The fish, indeed, became that afternoon’s centerpiece, if not the talk of the commune. It was hard to imagine how Morgan would be able to pull the fish, but apparently, we had a couple of witnesses from our own neighborhood. The Allen brothers, Basil and Dill, had been out that day to hunt and fish, respectively. They headed out into the forest and the lake at dawn and were on their way home when they saw my little Morgan struggling with the line. It was thanks to their testimony, that my pup became the legendary youngest fisherman of our commune, if not of Hethpool Lake itself.

Adults mixed, mingled, and talked. Children shrieked and howled with laughter as they joined the games; even Morgan, who sometimes preferred to sit by himself and read a book, spent his time mingling with the rest of the boys and girls. He was all smiles; I couldn’t help but steal a few kisses with Nautia as we both looked at our son.

My life was complete. Almost.

“Emergency! Make way! Make way!” Somebody shouted, but it was barely heard amidst all the festivity.

Except me.

And my boy Morgan, whose smile was suddenly replaced with a look of curiosity and confusion as he stood up and headed southeast toward the hills where the voice came from.

At that time, Nautia was busy talking to Edmund and Glinda. Not wanting to alarm her about what I saw with our little boy, I headed in the same direction instead while also keeping an eye on Morgan.

“Help! Oh goddess help us all!”

It was only then I realized that the voice had been over the hill. How come I could hear it? Or that my boy could, as well?

Morgan ran faster. I followed suit, worried for our little birthday boy who was too eager to meet whoever was screaming on the other side of the hill.

Either my boy ran too fast, or everyone just didn’t notice him leaving right away, because by the time we were halfway up the hill, just when I looked back for a second, I saw my wife Nautia and Nieva running.

“DADDY!” Screamed my son, just as I got to him and picked him up.

It was then that I realized we had reached the crest. Looking down on the rolling hills before us was a horror we never would’ve imagined.

A man in a coat and with a green armband indicative of our commune’s border guards came towards us, all bloodied while running and crawling. Behind his cries of alarm, were dozens of shadowy figures, both humanoid and otherwise.

“RUN! RUN!” The man screeched before the leading figures finally overtook him.

By then, I was already halfway down the hill with my kid. I had no choice; Morgan’s life takes priority. I met several men and women from the commune on their way up.

“INTRUDERS! SOUND THE ALARM!”

I was barely halfway when the first of the marauders arrived: a hen harrier, unnaturally large and most likely a shifter, was the first to arrive. Behind it were three more of the same bird class.

Everyone by then was already on their way down, but these flying shifters were relentless. Apparently, the first harrier saw me and Morgan, and thinking carrying a child would slow me down, was the first to dive.

A couple of gunfire shots rang out, followed by that distinctive crackle of lightning and the smell of gunpowder and burnt skin and feathers.

“Not on my watch,” growled Glinda, who held a gun in one hand while her other hand glowed with magical power.

Yet the birds were still relentless, and more of the marauders had passed over the hill.

“Quick! All women and children to the bunkers!” I roared to everyone.

In minutes, however, what had been a party for my beloved son became a battlefield. I saw Martina running towards Morgan and I, her arms ready to grab the child, when a large cheetah-like shifter dove and ripped her in a single breath.

There was no time to pause, shout, or even rage; Morgan’s safety had to come first, but we were painfully caught unawares. More and more people fell, but by then the warriors of the commune had finally managed to grab their weapons.

“Watch out!” Nieva shouted, but her warning turned into screams as another bird of prey, a falcon, grabbed her.

“Nieva!” cried out Edmund Eda, my father-in-law and Nieva and Nautia’s adoptive father. He took aim with his guns and was about to shoot, but suddenly two more avian shifters dove on him. He ducked, but every time he tried to aim another shifter, wolf or some other beast, would charge against him.

As much as I wanted to help, my son’s safety came first.

“Here!” Nautia called out to me, her arms open, Glinda blasting incoming shifters around them.

“Mummy!” Morgan cried as he clung to his mum. I hugged my wife and kissed her, but it was fleeting for she pulled back to give me my weapons.

“Thanks, Love,” I said. “Now go and save yourselves.”

“No,” Nautia huffed. “We don’t have much time.”

“What do you — Edmund!”

“Father!”

Edmund was precariously being pushed down as more beastkin dove into the fray.

“Mummy no!” Morgan cried out in alarm, his tiny arms held out as Nautia passed our boy to Glinda.

“Baby,” my wife said to our boy. “Stay with Glinda. We need to help Grandpa, okay?”

“B-but…”

“Take care of him,” she said to our resident witch.

“Please,” I added, giving an additional pat on the witch’s back and a kiss on Morgan’s forehead. I turned while quickly wearing my guns, then ran together with my wife to enter the fray.

Or so we thought.

Suddenly, for some reason, I could sense a different aura, and it was from above.

“Watch out!” I instinctively grabbed Nautia to the side and rolled us to safety when a beam of inhumane light bombarded the area where we had been.

FOOM!

A huge flame exploded on the grass, scattering bits of stone, grass, and debris.

“Butch — cough — William!” Roared Edmund, wheezing. “You filthy sonuvaw***e!”

“Dad!” My wife screamed.

Edmund was still standing, but his clothes were slightly torn to reveal old battle scars, scratches, and burn marks all over his body. Around him, a bobcat and a bird shifter lay, blood pooling from their still bodies. Edmund spat and wiped the blood from his face as he glared at the incoming newcomer.

I raised my firearms to provide additional firepower, but —

“Don’t ever think you can shoot anymore,” came a gruff voice.

Several of the shifters growled. It was then that I realized that besides Glinda and Morgan, who were now behind the witch’s magical shield, Edmund, Nautia, and I were surrounded by both rogue humans and shifters.

“Just paying my respects to your family,” said the figure behind a flying curlew that landed quickly before all of us. A man of average height and build, with light brown hair and a red, black, and white coat, jumped off the bird, which literally transformed into a woman.

I heard a growl — no, make those two growls as I saw my father-in-law’s sorry state. He was bleeding nonstop; I could sense Nautia’s frantic urge to get to her father’s side and make the bleeding stop.

“Hoh,” The man known as Butch William, most likely a magus, c**ked his eyebrow as he looked at me and Glinda, who still carried Morgan. “Interesting.”

I heard the two growls again — one smaller than the other. I tried to look around, but there was nobody who made such a sound.

“What a reunion,” he huffed as he rolled his eyes. Despite all his fancy clothes, the man known as Butch William looked ordinary. Except for his eyes. They reminded me of dead fish.

“What do you want, William?” Edmund gruffly said. He was still surrounded by the shifters. My breath hitched as I realized people from our community were still fighting, and many had fallen.

As more of our commune fell, more of the marauders also gathered around us.

S**t.

I still had my guns in my hands, but I gritted my teeth as the weapons seemed to get heavier by the second.

“Don’t try anything funny,” hissed the curlew shifter, her eyes glaring at me.

“Capable, ain’t she?” William smirked at me while stretching out his hand to play with her hair. “And it’s not just on the battlefield, too.”

“What. Do. You. Want?” Edmund stated again.

“I heard from a reliable source,” William paced around us. “You’re keeping shifters in this commune. Powerful ones, too.”

“And what of it?” Edmund growled. “It’s not against the Guild laws.”

Indeed, it wasn’t. While Hunter Communes were mostly composed of humans and hunters specialized in dealing with demihumans like shifters, vampires, and demons, they still welcomed demis into their fold so long as the individual followed the Hunters’ law within and anywhere else. If the Commune happened to accept an assignment from a legitimate government like the Lycan Empire or any of the Shifter Communities, then the demi-human hunters were allowed to participate in the hunt, as well.

Unless that individual was a mage and could be assigned as the Commune elder, healer, or magic user, demi-humans could only be considered members and could not be hailed as leaders. Neither were they allowed to hold high positions in the Hunters Guild. Still, being part of that commune, demi-human members enjoyed both the Commune’s and the Hunters Guild's protection and freedom.

“It’s precisely why I need them,” the former hunter said, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders.

“What makes you think we got shifters in our commune?” Edmund Eda growled.

“Hmmm… I don’t know,” Butch said, his tone smooth — something I realized to be unpleasantly deceiving. Despite the cool afternoon, I could feel cold sweat running down my back and another drip from my temple.

“Men, burn everything down,” the former hunter smirked.

“What the f—” Edmund roared, but one of the shifters, which looked like a cheetah, kicked him in the stomach.

“Oh, and sniff out their demi-humans,” the man added.

“RUN!” Edmund roared one last time. It was only then I realized he was addressing Glinda.

“Fath—”

“RUN ALL OF YOU!”

I was wrong. He was addressing all of us.

Instinctively, I pulled smoke and stink bombs from my ammunition belt before anyone else could react.

“SYL GRAB NAU AND RUN!”

“NO! FATHER!”

I immediately grabbed my wife and carried her in a firefighter carry. The bombs should stall the shifters for some time and allow us to escape. As much as I wanted to stay and fight to the death, something in Edmund’s eyes told me that I had to protect my family.

There was something else there too, one that seemed to nip at the deepest parts of my consciousness, yet now was not the time to recall.

I ran, attempting to go through the most random path, dodging whoever was in our way. Only my other hand held the gun, so I avoided taking shots and focused on taking my wife to safety.

“Here!” Glinda shouted. From the periphery of my line of sight, I saw something glimmer and headed toward that direction.

It was then we realized that the entire village was in ruins. People were still fighting, but the children and elderly were no longer around. Before Nautia and I was a portal that Glinda held open. My little boy was on her other hand.

“Mum!” Morgan pulled free.

Nautia, who had been struggling against my arm all this time, was distraught. I let her down so she could run to our little boy; instead, she turned toward me and I felt a quick sting that flicked my face to the side.

“HOW DARE YOU!” she cried. “FATHER AND NEVA!” Pain swept from my chest all throughout my body as I felt my wife’s anguish.

I didn’t answer; instead, I reached out so our little boy could get a hug.

“Dad,” Morgan cried, then looked up at his mother. “Mum.”

“We need to hurry,” Glinda said. “The invisibility spell I cast here won’t last any longer. Please.”

“Going somewhere?”

—