My Mom was a sneaky thief who loved to swipe food from people's houses and nab clothes right off the clothesline. She's a clever rascal never left a single piece of clothing behind, making it impossible for anyone to guess if the culprit was a man or a woman. Despite cutting off all ties with people, my crafty thief Mom still felt the pangs of loneliness and the need for human connection. And wouldn't you know it, that was their undoing! Sharp-eyed folks noticed her sneaky movements and discovered Mom's hideout deep in the thickest part of the mountain. Rumors spread like wildfire, and soon everyone suspected her of being the notorious thief.
One fine day, my Mom had her first run-in with fellow werewolves. The initial attackers were the weakest of their kind—those poor souls who couldn't shift back to human form or were stuck in a maddened, beastly state. But my Mom was no ordinary werewolf; she was top-tier! She easily fended off these weaklings. At her level, she possessed all the classic werewolf traits: a pounding heart, powerful limbs, and skin as tough as leather. She could sniff out the presence of lower-ranked werewolves within a two-kilometer radius, smelling their foul blood. Her wounds healed rapidly, and she had a high tolerance for pain. Armed with just a spear, she wiped out the weaker werewolves like they were nothing.
But that same day, stronger werewolves, equal in power to her, arrived. These werewolves wielded weapons and retained their human forms, yet had the same abilities as her. A wild chase ensued through the forest, hills, and mountains. They moved so fast that branches snapped and stones crumbled under their feet. Eventually, they all exhausted their energy, giving mom the chance to elevate her werewolf form. She discovered this at sixteen and had since mastered it. Occasionally, this form would cloud her human mind, but she knew how to regain control. In this state, her head transformed into that of a full wolf, enhancing her already formidable strength. She grew fur and a tail, yet retained human hands and feet. Her limbs and body became as tough as logs. Her only strategy was to bite and thrash at her attackers. Those of lower rank would revert to human form if they could, while the ones stuck as wolves perished. Equal-ranked werewolves would drop a level if she managed to bite through their tough skin and sink her teeth into their flesh, even just grazing a vein..
So there we were, with Dad explaining the hierarchy of werewolves as if it was a casual chat about neighborhood gossip.
First up, we have the Itim na Lobo or "Black Wolves" - the rookie level of the wolf world. They've got four levels:
Level One - These poor souls got bitten by Level Two wolves and now they're stuck in wolf form. But with some training, they can level up!
Level Two - These guys can switch between wolf and human forms. They can spread the wolf curse with a bite when they're in wolf mode.
Level Three - These folks stay in human form but pack the punch of a super-strong Black Wolf. They can kill lower-level wolves and spread their wolfy gift through a bite or, well, some "intimate encounters."
Level Four - Known as the 'Itim na Pangil' or 'Black Fang' - the top dogs of the Black Wolf gang. My Mom, according to Dad, was at this level when he found her.
Mom continued with her epic tale. She said she defeated a second wave of Black Wolves, probably Level Three, because she wiped them all out when she leveled up to her ultimate form. Every one to two weeks, a new batch of wolves would come for her, each time stronger than the last. The final wave she faced was a mix of Level Three and Four.
Mom still kicked their butts, but she didn't see that bullet coming – straight through her belly! Turns out, silver bullets are a major Achilles' heel for Black Wolves. The wolves weren't planning to kill her; there was a high-ranking wolf behind this, trying to make her his queen.
Dad claims all wolves, regardless of their breed, share a common ancestor - the Dragons. The Dragons had a fling with some humans, and voila! We got a whole bunch of shape-shifters. We're talking reptiles, horses, lions, tigers, monkeys, wolves, you name it. They live in different dimensions or frequencies, depending on their power levels. One day, all these shape-shifters will have a massive reunion. Just imagine that family gathering!
There are two types of Dragon races, Dad continues. First, we have the ones from planet Mars, and guess what? They were all fair-skinned Martian folks. They kind of messed up their planet, so they decided to crash on Earth. Now, Earth was still pretty new and super close to the sun back then, so over time, these pale Martians got themselves a tan. Yup, they turned black to fit in! It's one of their shape-shifting tricks. When they landed here, they totally wrecked their tech and their spaceship. Some groups wanted to keep this tech a top-secret while others were like, "Hey, let's share this cool stuff with humans!"
These Dragon folks decided to, ahem, "hook up" with primitive humans. But wait, not in the way you think! They made test tube babies using human and Dragon genes. This new mix was called the Slave Race, and they naturally had dark skin.
Now, according to my dad's last explainer, these two Dragon races were all about controlling the Slave Race they created. One Dragon race wanted to keep their tech hush-hush, and the other wanted to spread the love and share it with humanity. The Slave Race inherited the shape-shifting ability and other powers from the Dragons and used it to rise up against their Dragon overlords. And that's how the history of shape-shifters and the Werewolf Form started.
Before the Spanish came and messed things up, these shape-shifters were known as healers, witches, or herbalists, but really, they were the Babaylan. Some Babaylan worked hard to keep the Werewolf Form lineage alive in the Philippines, or Ophir as it was called in ancient history. My ancestors were Babaylan, so who knows? - Dad says. Maybe we've got some Werewolf Form blood!
I was just a kid, and I didn't take any of this seriously. I thought it was just mom and dad's bedtime stories. But as days went by, I started noticing strange things that seemed to connect with their tales.