Fangs and Fury : Dual System of the Godslayer RV

The crunch of gravel under Terry's sneakers echoed in the quiet evening as he approached Mr. Wesdon's house. A solitary light shone from the study window, casting a warm glow in the encroaching darkness. Terry felt a flicker of unease as he paused at the door, shifting his backpack nervously. 

Mr. Wesdon had always been his favorite teacher—brilliant, approachable, and endlessly passionate about biology. But tonight, there was an odd tension in the air, a prickle of foreboding that Terry couldn't shake. 

He knocked. 

The door creaked open almost immediately, and Mr. Wesdon stood there, his sharp features illuminated by the light behind him. "Terry," he greeted warmly, though his voice carried a strange edge. "Come in." 

Terry stepped inside, glancing around the familiar interior. The house smelled faintly of wood smoke and something metallic, a scent he couldn't place. The walls were lined with bookshelves crammed full of volumes on biology and evolution. Glass cases displayed preserved animal specimens—skulls, claws, and fur. 

"Thanks for meeting me so late," Terry said, trying to sound casual as he set his backpack on the desk. 

"Of course," Mr. Wesdon replied, his lips curling into a tight smile. "I've been looking forward to hearing more about your project." 

Terry launched into his presentation, explaining his research on the domestication of wolves and how early humans shaped the evolution of modern dogs. As he spoke, he noticed Mr. Wesdon watching him with an unsettling intensity, his dark eyes gleaming in the firelight. 

"Fascinating," Mr. Wesdon murmured when Terry finished. "But tell me, Terry, have you ever thought about the wolves that didn't become dogs?" 

Terry blinked. "What do you mean?" 

"The ones that stayed wild," Mr. Wesdon said, his tone oddly sharp. "They didn't just remain the same. They adapted too. Wolves that avoided humans grew smarter, more cunning. They became stronger in ways we've yet to fully understand." 

Terry frowned, uncertain where this was going. "I guess that makes sense. Survival of the fittest, right?" 

"Exactly," Mr. Wesdon said, standing and pacing slowly. "Domestication isn't always an improvement. Sometimes it's a regression. Wolves became dogs, yes, but at what cost? They lost their independence, their instincts, their strength." 

His voice grew darker with each word, and Terry felt a chill crawl up his spine. "Mr. Wesdon, are you okay?" 

"Am I okay?" Mr. Wesdon repeated, turning to face him. A strange smile tugged at his lips, exposing teeth that seemed sharper than Terry remembered. "Oh, Terry. That's a complicated question." 

Before Terry could respond, Mr. Wesdon moved closer, his presence suddenly suffocating. 

"Tell me," he said, his voice low and almost hypnotic, "do you believe humans are the pinnacle of evolution?" 

"I… I don't know," Terry stammered. 

"They're not," Mr. Wesdon said, his tone dripping with disdain. "Humans are weak. They think tools and technology make them superior, but they've forgotten what it means to be predators. To be wild." 

Terry's unease grew into full-blown fear. "I don't understand what you're saying."

"You will," Mr. Wesdon said softly. 

Then it happened. 

His body convulsed, his bones cracking and reshaping in horrifying snaps. His skin rippled as thick fur sprouted along his arms and face. His eyes burned a fierce golden yellow, their pupils narrowing into slits. 

Terry stumbled back, his heart hammering in his chest. "What the hell—" 

The thing that had been Mr. Wesdon snarled, its lips peeling back to reveal fangs that gleamed in the firelight. 

"This is the truth, Terry," it growled, its voice guttural and monstrous. "Evolution is not about becoming tame. It's about power. Survival. And you…" 

The werewolf crouched, its claws glinting. "You've seen too much." 

Terry turned and bolted, his backpack forgotten on the desk. He ran for the door, but his trembling hands fumbled with the lock. Behind him, the werewolf let out a bone-chilling howl. 

"Terry!" it roared, its voice reverberating through the house. "You can't escape!" 

Terry finally got the door open and stumbled out into the night. He sprinted toward the forest, the only place he could think to hide. Branches clawed at his face and arms as he plunged deeper into the woods, the sound of the werewolf's pursuit growing louder. 

"You think you can outrun me?" the beast snarled, its voice carrying through the trees. 

Terry's lungs burned, his legs screaming for relief, but he didn't dare stop. He could hear the creature crashing through the underbrush, its growls growing closer. All he wanted was to learn more about evolution and not get stuck with it. Damn! He cursed.

Suddenly, he tripped on a root, hitting the ground hard. Pain exploded in his ankle as he tried to stand, but it buckled beneath him. Terror gripped him as he turned to see the werewolf emerge from the shadows, its golden eyes blazing with hunger. 

"This is the end, Terry," it said, stalking toward him.

"Please," Terry begged, tears streaming down his face. "Mr. Wesdon, don't do this!" 

The werewolf paused, tilting its head as if considering his plea. Then it smiled, a horrific baring of fangs.

"Mr. Wesdon is gone," it said. "There's only me now." 

Terry screamed as the creature lunged, its claws tearing into his chest. The pain was blinding, his vision swimming as he felt warm blood soak his shirt. The last thing he saw was the werewolf's jaws descending, its teeth glinting like knives in the moonlight.

Then there was only darkness. 

The woods fell silent, the only sound the soft rustling of leaves in the wind. The werewolf stood over Terry's lifeless body, its golden eyes glinting with satisfaction. 

It lifted its head to the moon and let out a long, triumphant howl before disappearing into the shadows, leaving no trace of the young man who had dared to learn the truth.