Adam Law’s altered form was something else entirely.
Most Altereds, no matter how strong, had two primary forms. The first was the hybrid, where a human’s body was still recognizably their own but overlaid with the features of the beast they originated from. The second was the full transformation, where the beast’s essence took complete control, shaping them into something almost unrecognizable as human.
Not everyone could use both forms, and it wasn’t always a measure of strength. Some warriors fought just as well without transforming at all. But having both was a matter of versatility, of shifting into exactly what the moment demanded.
Judging from Adam’s stance, the slight tilt of his posture, and the way he seemed balanced between speed and raw power, this was his hybrid state. And yet... there was nothing “human” about him. His body was a tapestry of abyssal horror, slick black hide, glistening suckers, and an unnatural gleam in his many eyes.
A Werewolf lunged at him, claws flashing in the dim light.
Adam didn’t even move his legs.
From his back, one of the thick, rubbery tentacles snapped out like a whip. It coiled around the Werewolf mid-leap, the impact alone knocking the air from its lungs. Then the tentacle constricted. The muscles beneath its skin bulged and twisted, crushing bone and flesh with a wet, splintering sound that made even the nearby pack members flinch.
Blood dripped in slow, heavy droplets from the limp body that dangled in the air.
A heartbeat later, it was dead.
The speed was terrifying. The strength, worse. But Adam wasn’t finished.
The suckers along the length of the tentacle began to glow, softly at first, then brighter, each one emitting an eerie, cold-blue light. Ylva’s stomach tightened. She’d heard of this.
“Abyssal Hunger,” she muttered.
It was worse than she imagined. The tentacle pulsed with that blue light as Adam drained the Werewolf, not of blood, but of its life itself. The beast’s frame withered, fur dulling, muscles slackening until Adam finally let the husk drop to the floorboards with a hollow thud.
“I can tell,” Adam said, his voice deep, carrying that smug certainty of someone who knew he had all the power in the room, “the energy from you all isn’t weak. After this... I should grow quite powerful.”
His right arm warped, the flesh stretching and twisting until it wasn’t an arm at all but another tentacle, this one thinner, sharper. It lashed out toward Ylva so fast it blurred.
Her foresight struck like lightning in her mind, an image of herself trapped, bones breaking, life draining away. She moved before the strike reached her, her body twisting in midair as the tentacle snapped past.
But she knew Adam’s game now. That overextension wasn’t a mistake.
If it wrapped around her, the fight would be over.
Channeling her strength into her claws until they ached, Ylva swung in a brutal downward arc. Her talons sliced clean through the tentacle. The severed limb thrashed wildly before flopping onto the pier. Its surface rippled once, then shriveled into leathery, useless skin.
She allowed herself a single breath of relief, before the stump sprouted fresh muscle and hide. In seconds, the tentacle had reformed as though nothing had happened.
Adam’s jagged mouth curled. “It’s a shame there’s no water here, and that it’s not raining. If it were, this fight would be over quickly. That’s one advantage that fool always had over me... but it doesn’t matter. I will never lose a fight when it comes to physicality.”
More tentacles erupted from his back in a slow, deliberate bloom, eight of them in total, flexing in all directions like the arms of some deep-sea nightmare.
Ylva’s pulse spiked. She barked the order before she could second-guess it. “Go! Take him down!”
Her pack obeyed instantly, darting in from all sides.
They didn’t even touch him.
Tentacles lashed and swept in brutal arcs, each strike hitting with the force of a battering ram. One Werewolf was flung into the air, spinning before smashing through a railing. Another slammed into the ground hard enough to crack the boards. A third was knocked straight into the sea with a splash. None of them could get close.
Then Adam inhaled sharply, his chest expanding, and from between his needle-lined jaws he spat a sudden spray of water that splattered across the pier in a widening pool.
From its center, a tentacle rose, but this one was made entirely of water, its surface shimmering and flowing while its shape remained solid. It darted forward like a striking serpent.
Ylva dodged, rolling to the side just before it crashed into the wood. The impact made the entire pier tremble, sending vibrations up through her legs. Even without flesh and muscle, the water tentacle’s power was devastating.
She barely had time to catch her breath before more shadows fell over her.
Eight tentacles, half flesh, half water, were coming down in a storm from above. She dodged, foresight guiding her from strike to strike, but one caught her along the leg.
The force sent her knees buckling, the wood beneath her splintering under the weight. The air was knocked from her lungs, her vision swimming.
The tentacles lifted again, ready to hammer down a second time.
With every ounce of strength left in her legs, Ylva pushed off, leaping backward through the air. She landed far from Adam, her claws gouging into the boards to steady herself.
“Werewolves, protect me!” she roared.
A wall of fur and fangs formed between her and the Kraken Altered, snarling in unison.
This is bad. This is really bad, Ylva thought, chest heaving as she forced herself to think. The way we are now... we can’t win this fight. I don’t know what happened to the reinforcements, but I have to assume it’s the White Rose’s doing.
Her eyes narrowed, jaw tightening. The only way we even have a chance... is if Lupus and I use our true forms.
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