"Your first lesson will be strength and endurance—with me and Dante," Jax announced, voice sharp as steel.
April's body already ached. Every breath burned. She had thought she was strong—thought the alley fight had proven something. She was wrong.
"Get up," Jax ordered.
April forced herself onto her knees, echo-location swimming. Her arms trembled, but she refused to collapse.
"You're fast, but not strong," Jax said coldly. "Wolves aren't just quick. They're relentless. You want to survive? Then stop thinking like prey."
April's jaw tightened. Prey. That word cut deeper than the bruises spreading across her body.
She staggered upright. "Again."
This time, Jax smirked. "That's more like it."
—
Then came Dante.
If Jax was fire, Dante was a mountain.
"Hit me," he said, spreading his arms.
April hesitated. The man was a wall.
"Come on, Wolf," he rumbled. "Show me."
Her knuckles clenched. She swung.
Pain exploded through her fist, rattling bone. Dante didn't move. Didn't even blink.
"That all?"
A growl escaped her throat. She hit again. And again.
Again, again, again, again, again, again, again.
Each strike made her knuckles scream, but she could feel the rhythm beneath his weight. His breathing, his balance. She couldn't overpower him—so she had to adapt.
April faked high, then dropped low, sweeping her leg beneath his stance.
Dante stumbled. Not much, but enough.
Jax's low chuckle filled the room.
"Not bad, little wolf."
April grinned, chest heaving—until Dante cracked his knuckles.
"Alright," he said calmly. "My turn."
Her smile died.
—
The next lesson was speed and agility—with Saya and Kai.
Saya circled her like a shadow.
"Reaction time is your edge," she whispered. "But edges dull."
Then—she vanished.
A whisper of breath at April's back—April ducked to the left. Saya's strike grazed her hair.
April's hearing filled in the picture: the soft brush of fabric, the faintest scrape of boot against floor. She could track Saya. But tracking wasn't the same as escaping.
Her legs were swept out before she realized she'd already lost ground.
From the side, Kai snickered. "Try keeping up with this."
A rush of movement—April rolled just before his kick cracked concrete where her head had been.
April hearing the sound of concrete cracking, swallowed hard.
Kai's grin was sharp, too sharp. "Nice. But I wasn't even going full speed."
His second strike blurred toward her. This time April moved sooner, trusting instinct more than sight. She twisted just enough to survive.
Her heart hammered. She wasn't as fast. Not yet. But she was adapting. Surviving.
That was enough.
"That's enough for today," exclaimed leader.
April dropped to her knees, gasping.
"Finally… I was starting to think you people don't believe in sleep. Or mercy."
Kai chuckled. "We don't. But you're still standing, so congrats—you passed the part most recruits puke during."
April opened her mouth to retort, but her stomach answered for her.
A deep, guttural growl echoed through the training hall.
Everyone froze.
Saya blinked. "Was that… a stomach or a small earthquake?"
April's face went red. "Stomach," she mumbled.
Dante arched a brow. "When's the last time you ate?"
"I don't know," she said weakly. "Breakfast, maybe? Before you made me play dodgeball with death?"
Jax let out a sharp laugh. "You're lucky we like you, kid. Come on."
"Where?" April asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"Food," he said. "Before you start gnawing on Dante's arm."
The Underground Cafeteria:
They led her down a steel staircase that spiraled beneath the main training floor.
The air grew cooler, thicker with the smell of roasted meat and spice. Then the hall opened into a massive underground cafeteria—brightly lit, lined with long tables and humming with low chatter.
Warriors, scouts, techs—dozens of people—sat eating in small groups. Everyone looked hardened, focused, alive.
And everyone stopped when April walked in.
Her hair was a mess, her clothes were torn, and bruises dotted her arms like a map. She looked more like a stray than a soldier. But when Jax, Dante, Saya, and Kai flanked her, whispers started. Respectful. Curious.
Jax waved her toward the counter. "Eat anything you want. You've earned it."
April'sstitched eyebrows rose. "Wait, anything?"
"Anything," Dante confirmed.
That was all the permission she needed.
She grabbed a tray—and then another—and started loading it with food.
Roast meat, noodles, vegetables, rice, bread, fruit, soup, something glowing blue in a bowl—she didn't even care.
Kai stared, half-impressed, half-terrified.
"She's actually doing it."
By the time she was done, the plates stacked up like a small tower. She sat down with a satisfied sigh—and then she began.
But here's the thing—she didn't devour the food like an animal.
She ate fast, yes—but every motion was strangely graceful.
Precise. Rhythmic. Like her body knew how to move efficiently, beautifully, even in hunger.
Her fork twirled noodles with practiced grace. Her knife sliced meat in elegant, exact strokes. She chewed quietly, never spilling, never pausing—just a flawless, seamless rhythm of eating.
The others stared. So did the background recruits nearby.
A murmur spread through the cafeteria.
"Is she—still going?"
"Did she just finish her fourth plate?"
"Holy hell, she eats like she's in a royal banquet."
"But… so much food!"
Kai leaned over to Saya. "I think she just ate my entire paycheck."
Saya, deadpan: "Correction. She ate your pride."
Even Dante looked mildly impressed.
"That's… efficient."
Jax was grinning now, arms crossed. "Told you she's got something different in her blood."
April looked up mid-bite, cheeks slightly puffed with food. "What?"
"Nothing," he said, smirking. "Eat up, little wolf."
By the time she finished, the plates were empty, the cafeteria quiet, and half the recruits were pretending not to stare.
April leaned back, sighing deeply. "I regret nothing."
Kai muttered, "You just broke a record."
Saya tilted her head. "And possibly the kitchen's monthly budget."
April smiled faintly. "Worth it."
Jax chuckled under his breath. "Guess our Wolf has a bite after all."
—
After that days bled together. Fists. Bruises. Dodges. Falls. Each of them carving her into something harder, sharper. April stopped asking if they were trying to train her… or break her. Maybe it was both.
5-days later passed.
And then—everything changed on the sixth day.
She was sparring with Jax when it hit. A surge. A shift. Her muscles trembled, blood rushing, a tingling fire ran through her arms.
Instinct seized her.
Jax swung a fist.
April didn't think—her body moved before her mind could catch up.
Her left hand snapped open, fingers spreading like claws, and then—
~She slashed.
A metallic sound tore the air.
She staggered back, chest heaving. Her hands—
Her fingers were no longer fingers. They had elongated, sharpened, curved into claw-like extensions. The color shimmered faintly orange in the light, metallic and alien.
Three deep cuts marked Jax's shirt.
Silence.
April's breath caught.
"What… what did I just—?"
Jax glanced at his ruined shirt. For the first time, his smirk wasn't mocking—it was hungry.
"Oh," he said softly. "Now you're getting somewhere."
April looked at her hands. Her claws.
She wasn't sure whether to feel stronger…
…or less human.