Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby

Chapter 132: Lunargarde, The Coliseum

Sheer cliffs rose like ancient sentinels on either side of the valley, their granite faces weathered by time and etched with the marks of countless centuries. The wind whispered secrets through crevices and cracks, carrying the echoes of old songs long forgotten. Cascading waterfalls... Staubbach, Trümmelbach, and several nameless others... thundered down the cliff faces, sending silver ribbons of water plunging into the emerald depths of the valley. Their constant roar drowned out all other sounds, forming a natural curtain that concealed the sacredness of what lay hidden here.

A narrow, forgotten path twisted through the dense pine forest, winding over gnarled roots and under low-hanging branches. The air was crisp, tinged with the scent of damp moss, blooming wildflowers, and ancient stone. Edelweiss and alpine roses clung to rocky ledges with quiet defiance, blooming in places untouched by human hands.

Then, as if stepping into a forgotten tale, one would see it... hidden behind the veil of a waterfall, an ancient stone arch revealed itself. Vines clung to its surface like skeletal fingers, and faintly glowing runes etched into the stone shimmered under the moonlight. The arch wasn’t merely constructed... it was carved over a long time and protected by the Moon goddess, revealing itself only to the werewolves destined to pass through.

Beyond this veil lay a vast alpine meadow, lush and eerily quiet, ringed by towering fir trees that guarded the secret within. Snow-capped peaks stood in the distance, silent watchers that had seen countless duels unfold here under their gaze. Occasionally, the sharp cry of an eagle pierced the sky... either a warning, or a witness.

And there it stood... Lunargarde. To the unknowing eye, just another hollow in the mountain cliffs. But to the werewolf clans, this was sacred ground. The final sanctuary of tradition, where honor was earned in blood and sweat beneath the moon’s solemn gaze.

Nestled deep within Lauterbrunnen Valley, hidden behind nature’s most breathtaking illusions, the werewolves’ sacred coliseum waited.

Lunargarde, the Coliseum blessed by the Moon. The dueling ground of the werewolves. Located in Lauterbrunnen Valley, Bernese Oberland, Swiss Alps.

Inside the stone coliseum, the atmosphere buzzed with anticipation and ancestral power. Ten thousand stone-carved seats spiraled upward in perfect concentric rings, surrounding the sunken duel pits at the center like the ribs of a sleeping beast. Each seat was marked with the symbols of the clans that had once fought and bled here, names now spoken with reverence.

Above them, the sky opened like a divine eye... an irregular, jagged hole in the rocky ceiling, formed naturally over millennia. Through it, the moonlight poured like silver rain, illuminating the heart of the arena in a cold, pale glow. The silence it cast wasn’t empty... it was heavy, filled with the weight of what was to come.

The spectators were far from ordinary. Most were young werewolves, their eyes wide as they witnessed the sacred duel grounds for the first time. But among them were also veterans... clan elders, family council members, and battle-hardened warriors who had shed blood under this very sky. Today wasn’t just about entertainment; it was about evaluation. The strength of the new generation was under the lens of the old.

the members of the Ten Great Clans to settle disputes in the old way... through single combat. And rarer still for the Raynor Clan, reclusive and powerful, to allow one of their own to fight in such

of the Raynors," someone whispered among the crowd, their voice laced with curiosity and judgment. "Do you

Ethan Raynor will be coming. The rest of the

first voice. "Even if they believe in their fighter’s victory, they could at least show

possible. Ethan Raynor isn’t a warrior. He’s a businessman. Sure, he was born an Alpha,

Greymoore?" someone

awakened. He’s next in line for the clan

Raynor fighting at all?" another asked in disbelief.

couldn’t," came the grim response. "The rules of the duel state that replacements must be within ten years of the main fighter’s age. The only person who qualifies is the Raynor heiress. And from what I’ve heard, she’s terrifyingly powerful. They won’t reveal her strength just for a minor dispute like this. So

a setup," murmured another. "Lucian challenged him over a business disagreement, knowing full well he had the advantage. This whole duel is just a trap

one of the terraces where over a hundred Greymoores sat proudly, clad in matching uniforms, some laughing, others whispering

won. They came

case, why did I even come?" groaned a younger werewolf.

the situation only after arriving. But I’m curious. If Ethan Raynor is truly a member of the

shouted. "Let’s support Ethan Raynor! Even if he’s

back him up! If we cheer him on, maybe his spirit will rise and we’ll

whispers began to spread over

or ignored by the powerful clans, resonated with the underdog. They didn’t care about Ethan’s business background or bloodline. All they saw was a man walking into what