Erengard Royal Palace, Hall of Throne
The air in the royal palace is thick with tension, filled with all the alphas' dominance, ready to start getting violent.
A hundred of Dietrich's elite stood transformed, monstrous, magnificent, the embodiment of primal fury. Their massive forms loomed in the torchlight, muscles coiled like steel springs beneath fur that shimmered like molten silver. Claws scraped against marble, a sound like knives being drawn, as their glowing yellow eyes pierced the shadows.
These aren't just beasts; they're warriors, honed by years of training. Their very presence is a declaration of power. Jaws locked in silent snarls, fangs bared, they waited, a storm held at bay by a single command.
