"You know… this would be the perfect time to have a cross on me. Maybe have God cast you out or something…" he muttered.
He took a shaky breath.
"May God forgive my sins… and please, please don't let my mom find my magazine."
Oh God, the look on her face—she'd bring me back to life just to kill me again.
The werewolf tilted its head, clearly thrown off—it had never dealt with a Hispanic kid praying in front of it.
Its glowing eyes burned with a strange mix of curiosity and menace. Slowly, deliberately, the creature stepped forward, every movement radiating raw, primal intent.
"Iván," Lune's voice echoed in his mind—calm, but firm, more serious than ever before.
The pendant lifted from his neck, floating in front of his eyes, glowing with a pale blue light. Time itself seemed to slow as the werewolf approached, each movement drawn out like a frame in slow motion.
"Follow my words," Lune commanded.
And in that moment, Iván understood. The words weren't just instructions—they were a calling. He narrowed his eyes, the full moon overhead bearing witness, stars burning light-years away like silent watchers.
"I, Iván Alejandro Vasilios, call upon the moon—lend me your power."
He exhaled slowly, steadying his breath, his body, his spirit.
Then, it began.
A radiant blue light flared from the center of his chest, pulsing like a heartbeat. Lune surged to life, crackling with energy, and from the glow, a black and silver sword slowly emerged—its blade gleaming like moonlight on still water.
Iván reached out and grasped the hilt, its base shaped like a tail and crowned with a snarling wolf's head, its jaws clamped around the bottom of the blade. With a steady pull, he drew the weapon free—not with brute strength, but with sheer force of will.
Sleek and deadly, the katana shimmered in the moonlight, its black blade etched with glowing blue patterns that pulsed like veins of power.
Moonslayer.
At that moment, Iván wasn't prey anymore.
He was a warrior.
His silver eyes were replaced by a stunning blue glow. Without hesitation, he launched himself forward with all his strength—and to his shock, soared higher than any human should be able to. He landed hard on the rooftop of a nearby building, the impact jarring but steady.
"Holy shit… I'm a freaking ninja," he gasped, heart racing.
But the moment was short-lived.
The werewolf leapt after him, its claws slamming into the rooftop's edge with a thunderous crack. With a guttural roar, it lunged—one massive paw swiping through the air.
Iván backpedaled, barely dodging the first strike. The second came down fast.
He raised his sword just in time.
Steel met claw with a sharp clang, the impact reverberating up his arms. Iván's eyes narrowed, breath steady as he matched the werewolf strike for strike on the rooftop. Sparks flew with every clash—Iván, driven by strength and adrenaline, deflected each brutal swipe with precision.
Then, with a powerful leap, he launched himself onto the next rooftop. The werewolf followed a heartbeat later, landing with such force that cracks spread through the concrete beneath its feet.
Iván exhaled and swung his blade downward.
A wave of freezing energy erupted from the sword, releasing a blast of ice that swept across the rooftop. The werewolf dodged, its claws scraping across the ice as it slid—closing in fast, ready to strike.
But then—a gunshot cracked through the air.
Iván snapped his head around and saw her.
His mother stood on a nearby rooftop, an assault rifle in hand, fury blazing in her eyes.
She wore an all-black outfit, sleek and tactical, the kind that said she meant business.
Every shot she fired struck true, forcing the beast to stagger back. Her aim was sharp, precise—relentless.
Iván had never been more terrified… or more grateful.
Then, the sound of tires screeching echoed below as several black SUVs pulled up around the building. Men in tactical gear poured out—black military suits, rifles raised, moving like a well-trained unit. Gunfire erupted as they opened fire on the werewolf.
The creature let out a furious snarl, its glowing red eyes locking onto the reinforcements. With a final roar, it turned and leapt away, bounding from rooftop to rooftop before vanishing into the woods.
Iván, adrenaline finally crashing, dropped to one knee—breathing hard.
"Holy shit," he gasped, looking down at the glowing sword still in his grip. "I've got a magic sword."
But Iván's moment of awe didn't last.
A helicopter thundered overhead, its searchlight sweeping across the rooftop until it locked onto him. He squinted up just as figures began rappelling down—black-clad soldiers, fast and silent, like something out of a Black Ops video game.
They hit the ground around him in seconds, rifles aimed.
"Hands! Let's see some hands!" one of them barked. "If you reach for that weapon, we will shoot!"
Iván froze, still gripping his glowing sword.
"What the hell is this—some kind of supernatural SWAT team?!"
Then came the sharp sound of heels tapping against the rooftop.
Iván turned to see his mother stepping forward—calm, composed, arms folded as she stood beside him like she owned the sky.
The moment the soldiers saw her, they stiffened. One glance from her, and without a word, they nodded, clipped back onto their ropes, and were lifted into the hovering helicopter above. Within seconds, it disappeared into the night sky.
"Iván!" his mother snapped.
He turned slowly toward her—just as the glowing sword in his hand cracked, then shattered into shimmering fragments of light.
She stepped closer and pulled him into a firm embrace, one hand gently resting on the back of his head.
In a soft whisper, she said, "You're in big trouble. I'll explain later."
Iván's eyes widened.
It felt like his soul left his body—seeing his mom shoot someone was terrifying enough. But then, he heard Lune giggling in his head.
Oohhh, someone's in trouble.
This is your fault! Iván snapped internally. We wouldn't be in this mess to begin with if it weren't for you!
Iván glanced down and saw the men retreating. Leading them was Chris Argent—their eyes locked for a brief moment before Chris turned and climbed into one of the SUVs, which Iván now realized was an armored Chevrolet.
He turned to his mom. "Who were they?"
She scoffed, furious. "Cazadores, con juguetes grandes—hunters with big damn weapons. Chasing that werewolf… and my idiotic son got caught in the middle!"
Then she exploded, "¡¿Y por qué carajos no me dijiste que puedes usar magia, ah?!"
("And why the hell didn't you tell me you can use magic, huh?!")