The Atrocious Werewolf Prince

Mirza Zephyr stretched his body, cracking sounds pleased his ears. "He extended his hand and Ezra gave him the spirit cube"

"Father there are some things I want to tell you regarding the spirit cube" Ezra hurriedly said as he hand over the cube.

"What is it, son?" The King inquired "This cube has 3 possibilities. It can kill you, it can gift you the 7th-grade spirit or if your willpower is strong enough, you might get awarded an 8th-grade spirit. All will be at the mercy of your tenacity, the more you endure the higher your reward will be. That's all I have to inform father, think wisely before you start. For a child like me, a weak and alive father is way better than a strong but dead father."  The Young Werewolf Prince sarcastically guided his father.

"Haha, you only went inside for a few moments and already learnt the ways of talking, haha very impressed" The King chuckled and said, "Alright then so... wait... did you just say 8th grade?" Mirza Zephyr was astounded, his legs staggered.

"You heard it right, father" Ezra Zephyr said each word loudly, making sure that Mirza Zephyr overcome the surprise.

The Werewolf King gulped, his legs gave up and his arse smashed on the marble floor like a falling apple. "As soon as he hit the ground, the sweat dribbled like a waterfall. His breaths were heavy as he buzzed something to himself. The young lad saw his father and asked in worry "Father, what happened. Are you alright?"

"Ezra... do you even know how much an 8th-grade spirit is worth?" The King asked, his voice was trembling, and his face was terrified. The prince thought for a second and answered "Perhaps the same value as that of a Medium Level Sect?"

"A Medium Level Sect? That's the worth of a 6th-grade spirit. Why else the lion tribe would have planned for centuries to steal our blessing. Let me give you an example, there are only 6 people I know who possess 7th-grade spirits, they are the current sect leaders of Upper Level Sects. A disciple with a 7th-grade spirit can cause an all-out war amongst the sects. What we are talking about here is not a 7th-grade spirit but an 8th-grade spirit." Said Mirza Zephyr, his face gravely grim.

Now that Ezra understood the value of items, instead of fearing he smiled, puzzling his father. Now he knows how lucky he was to be chosen by Fenrir, he took a glance at his father and spoke in a bold tone. "This is not how a king of a nation should act father, the fate has given you a chance, either clench it and quake the world or wait for the lionmen tribe to kill us after the specific time." The Werewolf King was indifferent, maybe the shock of 8th grade was too big for him. Inside his head, he was battling wars against apocalyptic thoughts.

What Mirza Zephyr feared was not Brownmane Empire but the top sects, they won't stand still once they receive the news of someone possessing an 8th-grade spirit. No one could tell whether they would view it as a blessing or consider it a curse.

Ezra Zephyr after seeing the battered will of his father came up with an idea. "Alright father, let's get back home once I return these things to Fenrir," said Ezra Zephyr.

"Why are you returning it, your mother isn't healed yet." The King panicked, his love for his wife was visible.

"What's the point of living when we will die eventually to our enemies. While you, who are supposed to protect us have already given up. Let them humiliate mother like they did before" Ezra Zephyr took a deep breath, which sounded more like a sob. Tears assembled at the banks of his eyes as he said "I wish I had died 15 years ago."

"EZRA!!!" A wave of qi blew, veins pulped on Mirza's forehead as if someone had torn open an old unhealed wound. "Bingo, plan successful," the werewolf prince said to himself.

"I will protect my people from everyone, be it Brownman empire or sects. I will fight till my last breath, I can not bear to see something like I witnessed 15 years ago." The King replied and continued. "Stand behind the wolf statue, there will be qi outburst I believe. It could be dangerous for you"

Ezra Zephyr nodded and went to hide, The King gazed at the cube like a hungry puppy staring at its bowl. He opened his mouth and swallowed it in one go and sit on the floor with a perfect posture.

He closed his eyes and out of the blue, a loud shriek was heard. Mirza Zephyr flinched but he understood that the bellow came from within, his body shook crazily. It was the scream from the spirit the cube held, Mirza Zephyr took a look at his inside.

He saw a majestic long Griffin, its entire body was engulfed in flames. The peak of it was akin to a dazzling red hot iron, his pair of flattering blaze wings were testimony to the fact that it's a magnificent spirit.

"That's the spirit from the cube!!" Mirza pondered. In front of the Griffin was a wolf, a red-coloured wolf with black dotted skin. The only thing unusual was its long ears, it fearlessly growled at the griffin. He was unhappy about the interference of someone else in its territory. Mirza was witnessing everything, as he blinked the two jumped at each other.

The battle of dominance began within Mirza Zephyr, his body shook like a fallen leaf in spring. The pain was so immense that Mirza Zephyr almost passed out, the battle was about to end. It was a one-sided fight, the wolf only needed the final touch before it cease to exist. The griffin raised his foot to stomp the wounded wolf. "STOP IT, NOW!" A loud yell yelped by Mirza Zephyr momentarily halted the battle.