Normally, such bags could only be bought from traveling merchants who traded across races, but the prices were astronomical. Fortunately, thanks to Zion’s successful diplomatic efforts and trade agreements with the dwarves, he was able to purchase them at a significantly reduced price, though even then, a single magic bag still cost as much as a year’s worth of grain for a typical pack.
Fortunately, thanks to Zion’s foresight in establishing trade with the elves and dwarves, and profiting immensely from the items he acquired through his trade routes, he had amassed a significant fortune. In fact, his pack had become one of the wealthiest in the entire werewolf kingdom, despite being politically isolated by the Alpha King.
Traditionally, when an Alpha was summoned to the Royal Palace, the Alpha King would send an invitation at least a month in advance. This gave the Alphas ample time to prepare and travel at a relaxed pace, especially for those coming from distant territories. Since most packs couldn’t afford expensive magic bags like Zion’s, they usually traveled by carriage, bringing their luggage and essentials along the way.
However, Zion’s invitation arrived far too late for a leisurely journey. With no time to spare, he had no choice but to travel in his wolf form at full speed, relying on the magic bags to carry everything they needed. It wasn’t hard to guess the Alpha King’s intention—perhaps he hoped Zion would arrive at the palace looking haggard and humiliated, a proud Alpha forced to carry a bundle in his mouth like a low-ranking mutt.
Petty? Absolutely. But that was just the kind of man the Alpha King was—vindictive and never one to let a grudge go.
Unfortunately for the Alpha King, it seemed he wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing Zion down and defeated. Instead, the rushed summons only gave Zion the perfect opportunity to flaunt his financial power in front of the other packs—and even the Alpha King himself.
With the ongoing crises in the western, southern, and northern territories, the Royal Palace’s treasury had taken a significant hit. The Alpha King had been forced to provide aid to stabilize those regions, stretching royal resources thin. In contrast, Zion’s wealth and preparation stood in stark contrast, a quiet display of strength that couldn’t be ignored. S~eaʀᴄh the NovelZone.fun website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.
When Zion emerged from behind the tree, his midnight-black wolf, Shura, stood tall and regal, head held high with the magic bag strapped securely across his back. Claire instinctively stepped forward, expecting to mount Shura just as she had when she first arrived at the Midnight River Pack. But this time, Shura walked right past her, ignoring her presence entirely. He stopped beside Levi and gave his wolf a piercing, murderous glare that seemed to say, "You carry her."
Levi’s wolf immediately looked away, pretending not to notice. He had no intention of making the same mistake Zion did—carrying Claire on his back like she was his mate.
A werewolf’s back was traditionally reserved for their mate. If someone saw the Beta of the Midnight River Pack carrying Claire, it could stir unwanted rumors—especially if his fated mate happened to be present.
Levi glanced toward the elite warriors behind him. Ideally, one of them could carry Claire instead. Though they were still unmated and held lower status, but, unlike him, they could claim they were simply following orders.
But the warriors hesitated. Zion may have made his stance about Claire abundantly clear, yet it was difficult to discard years of belief that Claire was meant to be their future Luna, and their Alpha’s fated mate. To carry her now, like she was just any she-wolf, would not only feel wrong, but would also be a blow to her standing and status within the pack.
But what could they do? They were just warriors. So when Shura’s sharp, impatient gaze swept over them, one finally bit the bullet. With a tense breath, he stepped forward, lowered himself onto all fours, and allowed Claire to mount his wolf form.
This happened right in front of the gathered pack members who had come to see them off.
Gasps rippled through the crowd, but no one dared to speak. The message was clear, and it left everyone stunned.
Claire, however, burned with humiliation. Her face flushed red, then paled, and finally turned a sickly shade of purple as a storm of emotions surged within her—shock, rage, disbelief. Never had she imagined being treated like this, not after all the time and effort she’d invested in the Midnight River Pack.
In desperation, she turned her eyes to the former Luna standing among the onlookers, silently pleading for support.
The former Luna stepped forward, intending to speak on Claire’s behalf.
But Shura didn’t even acknowledge her presence.
Instead, he lifted his head toward the path ahead and let out a powerful howl—an unspoken command to his entourage: ’Prepare to depart.’
He had made his stance unshakably clear. There would be no room for negotiation—not even from his own mother.
"Everyone, don’t dilly-dally—we’re leaving!" Zion’s voice echoed sharply through the mindlink, his tone firm and irrefutable. The message was intended for his entourage, but he deliberately included his mother in the link.
The former Luna felt the words hit like a slap. Her throat tightened as if she were choking on her own breath. She understood the implication all too well—Zion was clearly and deliberately ignoring her. If she dared to push the issue any further, she’d only be humiliating herself in front of the entire pack.
Her gaze shifted to Shura. The midnight-black wolf radiated cold, unyielding authority. Unlike Zion, Shura didn’t listen to reason or social niceties. If provoked, he might lash out—even at Claire—without considering the consequences. The former Luna knew better than to challenge him.
Claire bit her lip until it bled, her pride crumbling as she reluctantly climbed onto the back of the waiting warrior. The indignity stung like salt in an open wound, but she had no other choice.
Moments later, the entourage departed, led by Zion in his towering wolf form. Dust rose behind them, a trail of silence and tension in their wake.
At the border, Gamma Mike stood alongside the other pack members, watching until Zion and his group vanished beyond the horizon. Only then did the crowd disperse quietly, returning to their tasks, though the weight of what they had witnessed still lingered in the air.
"Everyone, stay alert and be ready for any ambush or attack. Don’t let your guard down," Zion ordered through the mindlink as they sped down the forest path.
In response, the wolves trailing behind him barked in unison, signaling their understanding.
Zion’s sharp eyes scanned the dense forest on either side as he ran at full speed. The rhythmic pounding of paws against the earth echoed through the woods, startling smaller animals—rabbits and mice darted away through the underbrush.
Their presence was a good sign. Small prey wouldn’t linger if a larger predator was nearby, which meant—for now—the path was clear. That realization eased some of Zion’s tension, though he didn’t slow down. Instead, he pushed forward, leading his pack with unwavering focus.
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