[CRITICAL ERROR: Soul-Binding process interrupted.] [Incompatibility detected between Host_Soul and Destination_Shell...] [Manual Override engaged. Forcing integration. Warning: This is going to hurt.]
Laying in an abyss of darkness, I suddenly feel like my whole existence is being flushed down the drain. The dizzying movements send my mind into mush, and the next second, I'm in the driver's seat of a blue Jeep.
The splitting headache hits immediately, my breath catching and getting stuck in my throat before I can even take in the rest of my environment. With a sharp hiss, memories start flooding in—not like a gentle stream, but like a tidal wave crashing into a tiny jet ski.
[System Error: Memory.exe is fragmented. Stitching files...] [Success. Welcome to the world, 'Stiles'. Try not to break this body; it's the only one you've got.]
Suddenly, as if it was never there, the pain vanishes. Then, clarity. I feel like two people mashed into one shell, the two parts knitting together in ways that surprise me.
"Stiles? I knew we shouldn't be doing this. Look how pale you are."
My best friend's voice snaps me out of my daze. Turning to look at him—Scott—I see a nervous expression on his boyish face. His brown eyes are staring at me like I'm evidence. I take a deep breath, and a grin creeps across my face.
"What?" I say, the sarcastic reflex of the 'old' Stiles mixing with my new awareness. "You're the one who's been bitching that nothing ever happens in this town."
Scott sighed, shifting his inhaler between his hands. "I was just trying to get a good night's sleep before practice tomorrow, man."
"Right, because sitting on the bench takes such grueling effort," I snorted, reaching for the door handle. But my hand hesitated. A cold flicker of light danced across my retinas, and I realized it wasn't a hallucination.
[New Quest: Curiosity Killed the Gazelle] Objective: Lead Scott McCall into the Beacon Hills Preserve. Reward: 50 XP & A high probability of being mauled. Failure: You stay home, stay safe, and remain a 'String Bean'. Boring.
Mauled? The word sat heavy in my gut. I didn't know this world, but the System's sarcasm felt like a warning wrapped in a joke. Scott, not paying attention to my mini-existential crisis, had a determined look in his eyes.
"No, because I'm playing this year," he insisted. "In fact, I'm making first line."
"That's the spirit," I said, shaking off the System's screen and jumping out of the Jeep. My feet hit the dirt, and for a second, I felt a strange surge of adrenaline—the 'Julian' part of me was calculating the risks, while the 'Stiles' part was already halfway under the fence."Everyone should have a dream," I called out over my shoulder. "Even a pathetically stupid one."
Inwardly, I was slightly confused.
Why was I saying these things? The sarcasm was like a reflex, coming out before I could even process the thought. Then it hit me—it was my new half. I wasn't just wearing Stiles' skin; his personality was already woven into mine.
"Just making sure you're mentally prepared for the glory that awaits us," I added, checking my flashlight. "Now, move it. The body isn't going to find itself."
Stalking through the woods, I struggled to keep my focus on the shadows around us.
"So... what half of the body are we even looking for?" Scott asked from behind me, his voice barely a whisper.
My brain halted for a moment. "Huh!" I blurted out, my mind racing as I tried to process the question. "I didn't even think about that."
I was still trying to wrap my head around the logistics of a bisection when a sharp bark echoed in the distance. Instinct—sharper and faster than my own thoughts—took over. I lunged back, grabbing Scott's jacket and hauling him behind a massive oak tree. I pressed a finger to my lips, cutting off whatever he was about to say.
I pressed my ear towards the sound, listening. At first all i heard was the deathly silence of the forest and the singing of the insects then I heard the rolling of gravel, distant voices i couldn't quite make out but i knew instinctively.
"Cops," I mouthed.
I didn't wait for a response. I grabbed Scott's arm and we booked it in the opposite direction, staying low to the brush. We scrambled through the dirt until Scott's breathing turned into a ragged whistle. He needed his inhaler. We skidded to a stop, Scott fumbling in his pockets he took quick steading breaths, but the woods didn't stay quiet for long.
A low, rumbling vibration started in the ground. Then came the sound—a frantic, panicked crashing of branches. Before I could even yell a warning, a massive herd of deer erupted from the darkness. They weren't just running; they were escaping something.
"Down!" I yelled as a doe leaped directly over our heads.
We hit the mud hard. In the chaos of hooves and fur, my flashlight slipped from my grip, spinning away into the leaves. Scott's inhaler vanished into the dark as we curled into balls, praying not to get trampled by the terrified herd.
As the sound of the deer faded into the distance, a heavy, unnatural silence took its place.
[Warning: Adrenaline levels critical.] [System Note: That wasn't a jog. That was a stampede. Want to guess what they're running from? Hint: It's not your dad.]
I huffed at the System's snarky message, pushing myself up from the damp earth. My knees were caked in mud, and my heart was still hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I reached down, hauling a shaky Scott to his feet, before frantically patting the dirt off my jeans.
Turning toward the spot where my light had tumbled, I started muttering under my breath. "Damn crazy animals. I swear, next time I see one of you, I'm making venison jerky out of the whole herd."
I spotted the flashlight half-buried in a pile of wet leaves. I crouched down, snatched it up, and thumbed the switch. Nothing. I smacked the casing against my palm a few times, desperate for a spark, but the bulb stayed dead.
"Great. Fantastic," I sighed loudly, the sound echoing too much in the sudden silence of the woods. "Dead on arrival. Just like our social lives."
I turned back to Scott. He was leaning against a tree, his chest still heaving, but he'd managed to get a couple of solid puffs from his inhaler right before the herd trampled our dignity. He looked pale, but at least he wasn't wheezing anymore.
"I dropped it, Stiles," Scott whispered, his eyes darting through the blackness. "The inhaler. When we fell, it just... slid away."
"At least you got a hit of it before it vanished," I said, dropping back to my knees to sweep my hands through the mulch. My fingers were cold and caked in grime. "Stay put. It couldn't have gone far. Just... keep your ears open."
"Stiles, forget it," Scott gasped, his hand clutching his jacket. "We need to go. Something about this... it feels wrong. Like we're being watched."
Inwardly, my analytical brain was screaming the same thing. The deer weren't just running; they were terrified. And in the dark, without a light or a backup plan, we were the easiest targets in the world.
[Warning: Detection levels increasing.] [System Note: Look, I know you're busy playing 'Hand-in-the-Dirt,' but I've got a 'Visual Match' on something much more interesting than a plastic inhaler. About ten feet to your left. Try not to scream like a girl.]
I froze. My fingers brushed against something that wasn't a stick or a stone. It was cold. Rubbery.
I slowly looked to my left. As my eyes adjusted to the moonlight filtering through the canopy, the world snapped into a gruesome, high-definition nightmare. A pale hand, fingers curled into the dirt. Beyond it, the jagged, grisly edge of a torso.
The girl. Or what was left of her.
"Scott," I breathed, the air suddenly feeling like lead in my lungs. "I found it."
"The inhaler?" Scott asked, stepping closer, his voice hopeful.
"No," I whispered, my voice trembling as the 'Julian' part of me registered the sheer, animalistic brutality of the scene. "The other half of the body."
Scott stepped up beside me, his eyes following my gaze. I heard his breath hitch, a ragged sound of pure terror. We both stood there for a heartbeat, paralyzed, until a low, vibrating growl rumbled from the darkness behind us.
[CRITICAL WARNING: THREAT LEVEL RED] [System Note: Behind you. Move. Now. Or don't, I've always wanted to see an autopsy from the inside.]
Before I could even process the System's snark, a massive shadow erupted from the brush. It wasn't just a wolf; it was a wall of fur and malice. Scott let out a strangled yelp and lunged backward, his shoulder slamming into mine.
I lost my footing. The ground beneath our boots wasn't solid—it was the crumbling edge of a steep ravine.
"Whoa—!"
I reached out to grab Scott, but my fingers only caught air. We both went over the edge, a chaotic mess of flailing limbs and sliding dirt. The world spun—trees, moonlight, and mud blurring together as we tumbled down the steep incline.
I hit the bottom first, the breath knocked out of me with a dull thud. A second later, Scott crashed down beside me. We lay there in the mud, gasping, the silence of the ravine even more terrifying than the fall.
Then, I heard it. The sound of heavy, rhythmic breathing.
"Scott," I hissed, clutching my side as I tried to scramble up. "Scott, get up!"
But the shadow was already moving.
The piercing red eyes glowed in the pitch black, burning into mine with a predatory hunger that made my blood turn to ice. My breath caught, a violent shiver racing down my spine as I made eye contact with the monster. In that split second, I wasn't an analytical transmigrator or a sarcastic teenager; I was prey.
Before I could even blink, the shadow moved.
It was a blur of fur and muscle—faster than anything humanly possible. I didn't see the teeth; I only felt the bone-shattering pressure as they sank into my forearm.
"GRAAAGH!"
The scream tore from my throat as I was launched through the air like a ragdoll. I slammed into the trunk of a massive tree, the impact jarring my teeth and knocking the remaining air from my lungs. I slumped to the roots, clutching my arm as a hot, searing fire began to spread from the wound.
Through the haze of agony, I saw the shadow turn toward Scott.
"SCOTT! RUN! GO NOW!"
I screamed with every last shred of my energy, my voice cracking with desperation. I didn't wait to see if he made it. The world began to tilt and dissolve into gray static at the edges.
As my head lolled back against the bark, a final, blood-red screen flickered to life in the darkness of my vision.
[CRITICAL INJURY: Source - Alpha Lycanthrope] [Emergency Protocol Engaged: Integrating Lycan DNA...] [System Error: Two Hosts detected for single strain. Recalibrating...] [Goodnight, 'Stiles'. Try to wake up with all your limbs.]
My eyes slipped shut, and the woods went silent.
[Scott pov]
Landing at the bottom of the ravine, the air was knocked clean out of my lungs. My body seized up, my limbs refusing to move as I gasped for a breath that wouldn't come.
Then, a sickening scream tore through the silence.
"Stiles!" I choked out, my head snapping to the side just in time to see him launched through the air like a discarded toy. I hadn't even seen the beast until that moment—until Stiles' desperate yell echoed off the ravine walls.
"SCOTT! RUN! GO NOW!"
Only then did I see it. A massive, hulking shape of fur and teeth, its glowing red eyes boring into me with a hunger that felt personal. Guilt welled in my chest, heavy and suffocating—I couldn't just leave him—but the instinct to survive was louder. I turned to scramble away, my heart hammering against my ribs, but I was too slow.
The beast leaped.
A sharp, searing heat exploded in my side as teeth sank into my flesh. I let out a strangled cry, the force of the strike throwing me forward. I didn't look back. I couldn't. Blinded by panic and the sudden, throbbing fire in my side, I pushed myself up and sprinted into the dark, leaving the nightmare—and my best friend—behind.
[Stiles pov]
[System Reboot... 100%.]
[Warning: Integrity at 40%. You look like a horror movie extra. Get up.]
The snarky text was the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes. I was still at the base of the tree, my arm throbbing with a phantom heat. I looked down, my breath hitching. The sleeve of my hoodie was a bloody ruin, but the skin underneath was... pink. Intact.
"No way," I whispered, my analytical mind struggling to reconcile the memory of teeth with the reality of my unmarred skin.
[Passive Triggered: Biological Reconstruction (Minor Healing)]
[System Note: Your cells are currently vibrating at a frequency that shouldn't be physically possible. You're welcome for the free plastic surgery. Moving would be a top-tier strategy; these woods are currently 90% more 'murder-y' now that the guys with badges left.]
I stood up on shaky legs, testing my new center of gravity. I felt... lighter. Faster. I turned toward the ravine, my [Analytical Spark] flaring as I tried to process the sensory data flooding in. I needed to find Scott. I needed to know he wasn't lying in a ditch somewhere.
But as I turned, I realized I wasn't alone.
Standing near the edge of the clearing was a man. He was tall, dressed in a leather jacket, and radiating a kind of grounded intensity that made my skin crawl.
[Supernatural Perception: The Scan - Initializing...]
Identification: Unknown
Rank: C+ (Beta - Peak)
Condition: Stoic / Suspicious / Mourning
System Note: This guy looks like he eats sunshine for breakfast and spits out thunder. He's looking at you like you're a very interesting piece of trash. Proceed with caution—High-Rank entities can sense your 'observation.'
"You shouldn't be here," he said. His voice was a low, dangerous rumble that seemed to vibrate in my very bones.
"I... I was looking for my friend," I managed to say, my voice sounding thin. I tried to hide my torn sleeve, but his eyes had already locked onto it with predatory focus. He didn't ask if I was okay. He just stared at me for a long, soul-searching moment before vanishing into the tree line as if he'd been erased from the frame.
"Okay," I breathed, my heart hammering. "New rule. No more woods. Ever."
I turned and started the long trek back to the Jeep. I reached the driver's seat and locked the doors, my breath finally steadying.
"Status," I whispered. "Show me the real damage."
[CHARACTER PROFILE: STILES (JULIAN)]
Condition: Bitten (Alpha Strain: Peter Hale)
Classification: Omega Werewolf
[Attributes]
Strength: 4 (+8) -> 12 (Note: From 'Wet Noodle' to 'Slightly Dangerous'.)
Agility: 6 (+9) -> 15 (Note: You can actually run now. Try not to trip.)
Vitality: 3 (+11) -> 14 (Note: You might survive a punch. Maybe.)
Intelligence: 9 (+9) -> 18 (Note: The only thing keeping you alive.)
Willpower: 8 (+5) -> 13 (Note: This will be important hehehe)
[Known skills]
Active Skill:
[Supernatural Perception: The Scan]
Description: An analytical overlay that synthesizes the Host's heightened wolf senses (sight, smell, hearing) into a categorized data readout. This allows the Host to gauge the power levels and biological status of nearby entities.
Output Format:
Identification: Name (if known) or Species/Type.
Rank (F - SSS Scale): A comparative measurement of the target's threat level relative to the Host and known supernatural norms.
Condition: Current physical and emotional state (e.g., Wounded, Adrenaline Spike, Deceptive).
System Restriction: At current System Level (V1.0), [The Scan] cannot see hidden attributes or specific numeric stats of targets ranked C or higher. High-ranking entities may also sense the Host's "observation."
Passive Skill:
[The Trace]
Description: Allows the Host to track scents, sounds and heart-rate fluctuations.
[Biological Reconstruction: Minor Healing]
Type: Passive / Reactive
Description: A baseline supernatural trait of the Lycanthrope. The Host's cells now vibrate at a higher frequency, closing lacerations and knitting bone tissue automatically.
Trait:
[Current Objectives]
[The Anchor]: Find a way to stabilize your control.
[Survival]: Survive the Full Moon (48 Hours Remaining).
[The Alpha]: Identify the creature that attacked you.
I gripped the steering wheel, my hand brushing against the cold plastic of Scott's inhaler, which I'd snatched from the dirt on my way out.
I started the engine, the roar of the Jeep echoing my own internal chaos. Monday morning was going to be a nightmare.