The white wolf—the "Default Alpha"—didn't flinch as I lunged. It didn't have a heart to skip a beat; it only had a "Processing Unit." As my claws tore through its shoulder, there was no blood. Only a spray of jagged, blue light and the sound of a broken speaker.
"**[ERROR: DAMAGE EXCEEDS MARKETABLE LIMITS,]**" the white wolf droned.
It struck back with a speed that defied biology. Its paw hit my chest, and instead of a bruise, I felt a "Cold-Logic" seep into my bones. It was trying to "Rewrite" my pain into "Static."
"Elara!" Silas screamed, his blades clashing against three white wolves at once. The clearing was a chaos of silver and grey, the natural growls of the Silver Moon Pack clashing against the digital shrieks of the "Default" invaders.
I rolled across the dirt, gasping. I loo
