At my newfound magical prowess, my father showed me his grimoire collection. At first, All I could see was the stairs, but with a wave of his hand, and a smile, I saw the countless grimoires. Confidence boosted with my success, I dived in, devouring and spitting out all the spells I could against my father, who after seeing my successes, introduced me to magical combat. I was heavily trashed, tossed aside and left wet.

He was a master of magic in his own right. Making whips of lightning and fighting, forming ice spears and flinging them at me (Man that brought back memories, but I did it without my hands, so I was better than him), trapping my feet in the mud, it was no wonder I lost. The next day, I went all out. Chains of Enkidu reached for his limbs. Ice spears shot at his form. Flaming spears charred and hardened the earth. Winds whipped at his face. Runes were not useful and neither were my chains; he moved too quickly for any to be placed on him. The spears dissipated whenever they made contact. He hummed at all I gave, a small smile on his face as he idly batted away a chain. I gave no quarter, but watched as my father began to avoid my attacks. His body twisted, avoiding spears. He went low, his head nearly touching the floor as he kicked a spear into non-existence. I felt something twist inside of me. I gasped, my knees colliding into the dirt as the chains reeled themselves into my back, the spears dissipating and the wind dying down. I heaved, my hands on my stomach.

Your magical core has been depleted.

Status effect: Magical exhaustion in effect.

I grimaced and looked up .My father's smouldered eyebrows and his intense blue eyes interrupted stared back. "You overworked yourself," He told me as he knelt. I looked away. I thought I had more reserves.

"Arrogance is the downfall of man, hero and monster," He told me as he hefted me up in his arms. The door opened before him, and I winced at every step he took up that flight. It felt as if lightning and hot rods were being poked all around your body. Not a very good feeling. "Pride is the greatest killer ever known. Know your limits," He warned, as he placed me upon my bed. "You are suffering from Magical exhaustion. Trying to get back at me for the humiliation I dealt you yesterday, huh boyo?" He chuckled, his eyes softening. "You foolish boy. The pain will fade in a few hours at least, days at most. If you can walk, we will train in the matters of blades tomorrow, and hand-to-hand combat," He rubbed my head and smiled. "I am proud of you for what you have shown me today. Creating metal is very hard. It takes many years of dedication. You've been waiting to show me that for a while, hm? I know many mages who cannot create a bar, far fewer chains as long as yours. Well done,"

For the next three days, we dabbled in hand-to-hand combat and spear-wielding. I wasn't trounced as badly as I was in magic, but it wasn't bad. I gained weapons mastery skill and hand-to-hand combat skills, so introducing my face to the dirt so many times was worth it. I'll get him back though. It was the principle of the matter.

We were fighting, the both of us, our katanas clashing against each other when I heard the howls. Father disengaged, his face wildly moving from left to right, his hand shaking. "Get inside," He told me, his voice trembling, and I complied instantly, looking from the kitchen window as Father started a fire, the sun not even setting.

Soon enough it was dark, and the fire illuminated my father's figure. Branches snapped as wolves of brown and red silently circled him. A figure walked out, and extended his hand, to which my father took, his head bowed. The fire died, and he walked towards the door. I scrambled to the entrance as the door opened.

There beside my father, was a man a little taller than my father. He wore a stained red suit. His hair was crimson red, as were his eyes, which sparkled when he saw me. "This is the pup?" He spoke, his voice, rough and grating as he walked towards me and knelt. He took my hands in his. They managed to cover half his palm. "A bit on the small side," He murmured, as he looked into my eyes, His lips curled, revealing bloody canines. "Curious little pup. I am Lycaon," They announced, as men and women filtered in, naked as the day they were born. "The First Werewolf, and your Grandfather," He rose, turning to my father. "'The rooms are still available?" At my father's nod, the people walked upstairs.

Grandfather turned and took a seat near the kitchen counter, two glasses before. Opening the fridge, Father placed a wine on the table. Lycaon poured the wine into the glass and offered it to him. "You must forgive me for intruding into your territory, Marcus," He started, taking a sip of the wine before continuing with a gasp. "I know you have tried to live the human life after I have taken it from you. I am pleased with what I see, and I know you are too," Father smiled, and took up the glass, sipping on the dark wine. "Thank you. Do know that I have no ill against you, nor do I condone any harm done to you by anyone,"

"And I, you. Which is why I am here," He placed the cup on the floor and placed a piece of paper with my father's face on it. "You are being hunted by the gods," Father took it. "Minerva has issued the quest, but Diana specifically has taken an interest in it," Father looked like he swallowed a lemon. "How? I covered my tracks, and I haven't eaten any demigods for this past century,"

"You've interacted with a goddess," He eyed me and smirked. "Very thoroughly. I am pleased with your conquest," Father rolled his eyes. "Hecate sold me out," Grandfather hummed. "Trivia sold you out. Minerva probably wants the library. No doubt the Hoarder of Knowledge is salivating from the books you have here, waiting to be added to her collection. The Huntress, well, you know why she hunts you," Father nodded, his face solemn. "When was the quest issued, and how close are the Hunters?"

Grandfather wiped his canines with his sleeve, before taking another gulp of wine. "From what Mercury's boy told me, it has been active since last January. So five months. The Hunters are nearby, but their goddess is not leading them. Atlas' daughter is." He pulled out a map and pointed near the green. Area, near the sea. "Forty-two hunters are here, The others are in the city," Father moved to get closer to him. "Their tactics, if it is the same, will have them split that forty-two in half at worst. Atlas' daughter is smart. If the group splits, her half would be the more threatening. The other leader would most likely be Mar's daughter. Reckless one. We wouldn't need to worry about her. We also have to take into account the demigods," Lycaon pointed to the city. "They're in the city also. We're safe for now," Father hummed.

"How many packmates did you bring?"

"Twenty. Too many would've alerted Lupa. The bloody she-wolf and her pack would've caused more trouble than desired. Your brothers should keep her suitably distracted," He turned to me. "Is the boy turned?" Father shook his head. "Good, they'll believe him to be only a demigod if he is discovered. How old is he?"

"Seven," My father answered and Grandfather cursed. "One more year before a natural turning," He turned to me. "Boy, if you happen to be separated from your father and me, make your way to America, San Francisco. Get to a bar named Lucky Tavern and say you're looking for a Riot. You'll be safe there," He turned to my father again. "The third cohort is our second worry. They're sixty strong, and led by Lyon, a son of Ceres known for killing a pack of hellhounds by himself," Theri planning turned into idle chatter as I walked towards the library. I watched it, filled with books, and small bags. I raised my hand, my intent known to the system.

50,000 Grimoires and 400 History Books added to your inventory

"Well," I turned, watching my Grandfather's surprised visage and my father's shocked expression. Oh, the Library was right next to the Kitchen and the front door entrance. Forgot about that. "I think that changes things,"

Father agreed if his slacked-jawed, slow nods were an indicator. "Truly, Hecate has born me a gifted child,"

"Yes, she has. Imagine him as an adult," Lycaon murmured as he walked towards me. His hand rested upon my head "He must be nurtured, protected,"

"Not by us," Father refuted. "They'd find out, and kill him," Lycaon frowned. "Our inability to hide pups has caused many sorrows. Their own camps then. Let them nurture their destruction," He nodded at my father's words but replied. His hand slid to cup my face, and I looked into Lycaon's eye. "What if I don't want to destroy them?" He smiled. "You will,"

Author's note.

Hello again, everyone! Hope you doing well. For those of you really invested in this, sorry for the wait, my computer broke down and I got the current one from my school. I have to return but before I do I want to be able to buy one. This is where my P-treon comes in. Please donate, subscribe, whatever, floats your boat.

Movingonwards, this is how the story is going to go. Next chapter is already posted on my P-treon. On that site the story is titled "Lycaon's Brood." Have no fear, the next chapter is free to read for all. Same name, bleh bleh bleh.

Guys, please review. I look forward to constructive criticism. And Anyone interested in beig a beta reader and has the time and patience to put up with me please message me.

Farewell,

ThatTerribleWriter78

p-treon: /ThatTerribleWriter78