Third Person’s POV
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“Twenty years?” Adide arched an eyebrow, genuinely struggling to reconcile that number with his messy performance. “Who was your instructor?”
Alfred gave a bitterugh, staring down at his dust–covered boots.
“I didn’t have a formal one. When I was a kid, I just did conditioning with the Hornbeam guards. Later, I picked up a few moves from the older guys in the pack.”
“Then I met Zach. He taught me some real–worldbat stuff. Once I became a Pce guard, it was mostly Zach giving me pointers.” He paused, looking a bit embarrassed.
“And when I’m on duty, I usually pester the other wolves for spars… just to ‘borrow‘ whatever they’ve got. It’s a bit of a patchwork.”
Nearby, Ellen and the others couldn’t help but let out low chuckles.
Alfred was clearly eager to learn, but his method was like a suit made of random scraps of fabric–it covered his body, but it offered zero protection and looked a mess.
“No wonder your technique is all over the ce,” Paisley muttered.
She crossed her arms and walked over to him. During herrge–group sses, she hadn’t paid much attention <i>to </i>this unremarkable guy.
“If you’re this obsessed with fighting and you’re from the Hornbeams, why didn’t you get a proper teacher when you were younger? Your family isn’t exactly broke.”
Most pack instructors were mediocre at best, turning out rough, unpolished fighters. But a wolf of Alfred’s lineage should have had his pick of elite masters.
Alfred went silent for a moment. Then, he let out a long, heavy sigh.
As he began to recount his history with instructors, the group finally understood why he’d risked offending Lance just to get a shot at training with Paisley.
When he was seven, his parents hired a legendary Royal Swordsman.”
However, shortly after starting, the teacher suffered a sudden heart attack and returned to the Moon Goddess’s side before the doctors even arrived.
That <b>was </b>the first time.
So, he was stuck training basics with the pack guards.
<b>A </b><b>year </bter, his father–refusing to let his son’s talent go to waste–scoured the kingdom and found abat master famous for training wolves to fight in the middle of raging storms.
<b>16:06 </b>Mon<b>, </b>Feb <b>23 </b><b>R </b>
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The master was entric; he only took five students a year, and they had to reach the cliffs of the Storm Coast first to pass the test.
Alfred’s father immediately took him and set out. On the way, they met a young noble boy heading for the
same master.
His father’spetitive streak kicked in. Thinking the other boy was a rival, he skipped the safe passenger ships and paid top dor for a “high–speed” speedboat.
It was a disaster.
A massive storm flipped the boat like a toy. They spent an entire night treading water in the freezing ocean before a fishing boat picked them up. They barely survived.
C
Then came age ten.
This time, Alpha Theodore personally found him a grandmaster from the distant Emerald Valley who had moved to the capital.
If things went well, Alfred would have been his lead disciple–the same rank as Craig.
With Theodore’s backing and a training hall in the heart of the city, nothing should have gone wrong.
But that year, the capital hit a record–breaking rainy season.
The night before Alfred was supposed to start his training, the foundation of the new training hall turned to mud and the whole building copsed.
The master’s leg was crushed, and he was so traumatized that he fled the city that same night, hobbling away and leaving Alfred’s training in the dust.
This pattern continued until he was thirteen.
For six years, Alfred couldn’t get a single formal lesson. Every attempt was met with a series of freak idents.
It was like an invisible hand <b>was </b>actively sabotaging him.
Either he’d break out in a massive fever and hives the day before starting, or his teachers would suddenly break their legs, lose their life savings, or get hunted down by rival packs.
Eventually, even his father gave up. He looked up at the moon and sighed, surrendering to fate.
He <b>was </b>afraid that if they kept pushing, they wouldn’t just fail at fighting–they’d piss off the Moon Goddess and bring a curse down on the whole family.
<b><i>So</i></b>, the family stopped looking. His father just told him, “This is it. Learn what you can in the Guard. Your <b>progress </b><b>is </b>up to your own talent and hard work now.”
Hearing this <b>“</b><b>cursed</b><b>” </b>history, Paisley had mixed feelings.
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16:06 Mon<b>, </b>Feb <b>23 </b>
She looked this bruised and battered wolf up and down, wondering if he really was jinxed. She instinctively touched her own neck.
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But then she reconsidered. All of Alfred’s bad luck had happened before he could start with a teacher.
Now that the ceremony was finished, the deal was done. Surely nothing could go wrong now<b>? </b>
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<strong>Olivia Harris</strong> is an emerging author celebrated for her captivating romantic and steamy novels. With a talent for crafting deep emotional connections and fiery chemistry between her characters, Olivia’s stories offer readers an escape into worlds filled with passion, intrigue, and heart-stopping drama.