Omega collapsed, his body trembling violently as evolution forced new change into his bones. Every cell screamed as it rewrote itself, a symphony of agony that threatened to tear him apart from the inside.

The wolf shrank. Fur retreated beneath skin like a tide pulling back from shore. Claws folded into fingers, each transformation accompanied by sharp pops of reshaping cartilage. His jaw shortened, fangs receding into human teeth that felt foreign and small. The monstrous silhouette twisted back into a human shape, leaving him naked in the dirt, gasping for air, trembling with exhaustion and shock. He felt hollow, as if something vital had been carved out of him.

"What… what did I just… do?" Omega's voice came out weak, barely more than a whisper. The taste of blood on his tongue made him want to retch.

"You're no human…" the log said quietly, still processing what he'd witnessed. A tremor ran through his wooden form. "You're a monster."

Omega stared at the half-eaten carcass, his stomach churning with revulsion. His hands shook uncontrollably, fingers slick with gore he couldn't remember acquiring. His mouth tasted of blood and raw flesh, metallic and warm. He could barely understand what he'd become, what lurked inside him waiting to emerge. The memory of the hunt—the pure, primal joy of it—terrified him more than the transformation itself.

Early dawn crept through the trees, painting the clearing gold as he struggled to breathe, to think, to remember who he was. The morning light felt like a judgment, exposing him in all his naked vulnerability.

"What was all that about?" the log asked cautiously, edging slightly closer despite his fear. "Are you a human, or a beast?"

"Good question…" Omega swallowed hard, still out of breath, his chest heaving. "What was that? I… I am a werewolf." The word felt strange on his tongue, like admitting to a crime he hadn't known he'd committed.

"A were-what?" The log tilted forward, curiosity overcoming caution. "Isn't that just a human with fur myths talk about?"

"I don't know anymore," Omega admitted, his voice hollow with uncertainty. He wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly aware of the cold. "I have to leave these woods. Research. Find out what I am. I thought werewolves were just stories, but this power… this strength is beyond anything I've felt." He clenched his fists, watching the muscles ripple beneath his skin. "It won't be long before I reach A-rank. And when I get there… maybe that's when I truly wake up. Maybe then I'll understand what I'm becoming."

"Then maybe you're not just human or beast," the log suggested thoughtfully, his tone gentler now. "Maybe you're a third race entirely. Something new."

Omega considered this, finding unexpected comfort in the idea. Not broken, but different.

"Listen." Omega's voice dropped serious, tinged with genuine concern. He met what he assumed were the log's eyes. "I'm going back to the human world. If you follow me, people will try to take your beast core and kill you. It's too dangerous. I don't want your death on my conscience."

"I don't have a core," the log said smugly, almost proud, puffing up slightly. "My hero—Legendary Master Green—fused it with my blood. That's why I'm smarter than the low-lives."

"Master Green…" Omega muttered, the name stirring something in his memory like a half-forgotten dream. "I've heard that name somewhere. Still—you'll need to cover yourself. You can't walk around looking like a talking log. People will panic, or worse, try to capture you."

"No problem." The log sounded pleased with himself, practically radiating satisfaction. "I have my own set of clothes."

He pulled out a robe and a wide hat, dressing himself with surprising dexterity until he looked like a small cloaked traveler, mysterious and almost human. The transformation was remarkable—from animated wood to something that could pass for a child in the right light.

"Wow… that looks impressive," Omega said, genuinely surprised, his earlier horror momentarily forgotten. "Let me see what it's made of."

He activated his ability, focusing despite his exhaustion.

"Wolf Detect: D-rank Headwear — Blade Hat. Effect: when thrown, it always returns to the user's head. E-rank Robe — Invisible Wrap. Effect: turn invisible for 1 minute."

"What?" Omega's eyes widened, a mixture of shock and envy flooding through him. "How did you get beast gear? That's worth a fortune."

"That's the point," the log explained patiently, with the air of someone revealing a clever trick. "Since my core is fused into my blood, I don't count as a normal beast. I can use equipment. Master Green made sure of that before he… left."

A note of sadness colored those last words, and Omega felt an unexpected kinship with this strange creature.

Omega sighed, rubbing his temples, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on him. "Alright… so what's your name? I can't keep calling you 'log' if we're traveling together."

The log bowed with theatrical flourish, clearly delighted by the question. "Call me Woody."

Before Omega could respond—or question the absurdly simple name—the forest rustled with heavy footsteps and voices. His enhanced hearing picked up every word, every breath. Instructor Norway led a group through the trees, scanning the ground: claw marks, broken trunks, scattered corpses. His experienced eyes missed nothing.

"It seems your friend is lucky," Norway observed, his experienced eyes reading the battlefield like a book. He crouched, examining a deep gouge in the earth. "Someone strong is out here. At least E-rank to kill an F-rank beast this cleanly."

"Does that mean Omega is safe?" Jennifer's voice carried desperate hope, cracking slightly on his name. She'd been crying—Omega could hear the roughness in her throat.

"No human blood," Norway confirmed, examining the ground carefully, running his fingers through the disturbed soil. "The wolf absorbed most of the fall. We will find him. I promise you that."

They followed the trail deeper, spotting another beast corpse, this one larger, its body torn apart with brutal efficiency. Norway's eyes narrowed with concern, his hand moving instinctively to his weapon.

"I miscalculated," he said quietly, more to himself than the others, his voice tight with worry. "Whoever's here… they're stronger than expected. Much stronger. This level of carnage…"

Finally, they saw him. A half-dressed boy standing dazed in the clearing, looking lost and vulnerable, like a child waking from a nightmare. Blood streaked his chest, but he appeared uninjured.

"Omega!" Jennifer broke from the group, rushing forward with abandon. She slammed into him, hugging him tightly, her body shaking with relief. Tears soaked into his bare shoulder. "I thought I lost you… Don't ever do that again! Do you hear me? Never!"

"I'm sorry, Jen…" Omega said softly, his arms wrapping around her, holding her like she might disappear. The warmth of her embrace anchored him back to humanity, reminded him of who he'd been before the wolf. Her heartbeat against his chest was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard.

"That's enough," Norway interrupted, his tone gentle but firm, though his eyes held understanding. "It isn't safe here. We need to move."

"A whole search party for an F-class student," a guard whispered to another, just loud enough to carry, his voice dripping with disdain.

Omega heard every word, his enhanced senses picking up the mockery. His jaw tightened, muscles bunching beneath his skin, but he said nothing. Let them underestimate him. Let them think him weak. Better that than the alternative.

"And this?" Norway looked at Woody with professional curiosity, his hand still resting on his weapon. "Is he the one who killed the beasts?"

"No, sir. It was me," Omega said, meeting the instructor's gaze with steady determination.

"You?" A second-year student laughed mockingly, the sound grating on Omega's nerves. "You struggled with unranked beasts and now you kill F-ranks? That's impossible. What do you take us for, idiots?"

"Don't mind him," Woody interjected proudly, stepping forward with exaggerated confidence. "I killed them all. Every single one."

"What? No, you didn't!" Omega protested, exasperated, throwing his hands up. "You were sitting down the entire fight! You barely moved!"

Woody smirked and released his aura deliberately, letting it wash over the group. The reader showed D-rank, clear and unmistakable. Several students gasped, taking involuntary steps backward.

"So you're the one," Norway said with respect, bowing slightly, his entire demeanor shifting. "Thanks for saving my students. We're in your debt."

"No problem," Woody replied graciously, clearly enjoying the attention. "Actually… think I can follow you back to school? Maybe become a gateman? I've always wanted to see how humans live."

Omega went stiff, alarm bells ringing in his head. "This is a bad idea…" he muttered under his breath, already imagining the chaos.

"Maybe you can assist in class," Norway offered, warming to the idea, his tactical mind already seeing the benefits. "I'll pay you well. A D-rank would be invaluable for demonstrations."

"Really?" Woody's voice brightened with genuine excitement, practically vibrating with joy. "Thanks, Mr…?"

"Norway," the instructor supplied, extending his hand. "Instructor Norway."

Woody practically beamed, shaking the offered hand with both of his wooden appendages. Omega sighed deeply, already imagining the complications ahead, the questions, the scrutiny.

Jennifer squeezed his arm, sensing his tension. "What's wrong?" she whispered, her breath warm against his ear.

"Nothing," he lied, forcing a smile. "Just tired."

And under the rising morning sun, they all walked back toward the academy—Jennifer gripping Omega's arm protectively, refusing to let go even for a moment; Woody trailing behind in his mysterious cloak, chattering excitedly about his new position; and Omega wondering how much longer he could hide the monster inside him before it consumed everything he loved. Each step felt heavier than the last, weighted with secrets and the metallic taste of blood that wouldn't leave his mouth.

The wolf was sleeping now, but Omega could feel it stirring in his chest, waiting. Always waiting.