It started slowly, almost imperceptibly. A farmer hearing strange hore reports at night. A merchant said her neighbor vanished after a midnight walk. Then, in a small village near Gama's border, a man attacked his family during a full moon. His strength was inhuman, his eyes glowed amber, and his growls sounded more beast than man. When the villagers subdued him, they saw the truth: he was no longer one of them. He was a werewolf.
By the time Gama's leaders began to connect the dots, it was too late. The infection spread with terrifying speed. A single bite was all it took to turn a person into one of the curses. What began as scattered incidents exploded into chaos. Entire villages fell, the curse moving faster than anyone could comprehend. Within weeks, a quarter of Gama's population had been transformed into bloodthirsty creatures of the night.
The transformation wasn't just physical. Those afflicted lost their humanity, consumed by an insatiable hunger and a primal urge to hunt. Gama, once a peaceful and prosperous kingdom, descended into terror. Streets that had been filled with laughter and life became deathly quiet. People barricaded themselves in their homes, praying they wouldn't hear claws scratching at their doors.
The city of Gama, the heart of the kingdom, was hit the hardest. By night, it became a hunting ground for the creatures. Shadows moved unnaturally, and the air was filled with howls that froze blood. The once-bustling markets and cheerful squares were now deserted. The few brave enough to venture outside were either desperate or foolish and they didn't return.
King Alden, the ruler of Gama, was a wise and compassionate leader, but even he was unprepared for this. He had faced wars, famine, and political unrest, but nothing like this. His army was well-trained to fight men, not monsters. Every time his soldiers managed to kill one of the beasts, two more seemed to take its place. Worse still, any wounded soldier was at risk of becoming the very enemy they fought.
In the grand halls of Gama's palace, the atmosphere was grim. King Alden paced, his hands clasped behind his back, while his advisors argued about what to do. Captain Darius, his most loyal soldier, stood silent, his jaw clenched. He had seen firsthand what the werewolves could do, and he knew their current strategies were futile.
"We can't hold them off!" one advisor shouted. "Our men are dying, and the infection spreads faster than we can contain it."
"Then what do you suggest?" another snapped. "Abandon the city? Leave our people to die?"
King Alden slammed his fist on the table. "Enough!" His voice echoed through the chamber, silencing the room. He turned to Darius. "Tell me the truth. How long can we hold out?"
Darius hesitated. "Weeks, maybe less, Your Majesty. The city won't survive another full moon."
A heavy silence fell over the room. Alden's face was pale but resolute. "We need help," he said finally. "Send messengers to the neighboring kingdoms. Offer gold, landwhatever it takes. We cannot fight this alone."
One of the advisors shook his head. "The neighboring kingdoms will take this as a sign of weakness. They'll see Gama as vulnerable."
"What other choice do we have?" Alden demanded. "Our people are dying! If Gama falls, they'll have nothing to conquer."
As the advisors debated, a servant timidly entered the room, his hands trembling. "Your Majesty," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "there is… someone who might help."
The room turned to him, and the servant swallowed hard under their scrutiny. "Her name is Elizabeth. They say she's the greatest werewolf slayer in the land."
A murmur swept through the room. Elizabeth's name was infamous. Stories of her exploits had spread far and wide. Some called her a hero, others a menace. She was a wanderer, a lone hunter who had dedicated her life to destroying the cursed.
"She's a legend," one advisor said skeptically. "We don't even know if she's real."
"She's real," Darius interjected. "I've seen her work. She's ruthless, but if anyone can help us, it's her."
King Alden nodded slowly. "Find her," he ordered. "Offer her whatever she asks. If Elizabeth can save Gama, we'll make her our ally."
Far from the chaos of Gama, Elizabeth sat in a quiet tavern, nursing a tankard of ale. She was a striking figure, her presence commanding attention despite her plain, travel-worn clothes. Her eyes were sharp, her movements precise, and a scar ran from her temple to her jawa, a reminder of the battles she had fought.
For years, she had roamed the land, hunting werewolves wherever she found them. To her, the curses were not just monsters they were victims of a disease that needed to be eradicated. She fought not out of hate, but necessity. If she didn't, no one else would.
When the messenger from Gama arrived, breathless and desperate, Elizabeth listened without interruption. She had heard rumors of the werewolf plague, but the scale of the devastation shocked even her. She finished her drink, stood, and strapped on her weapons. "Tell your king I'm coming," she said simply.
Elizabeth's arrival in Gama was met with a mixture of hope and fear. She didn't look like a savior. Her leather armor was battered, her weapons were simple but sharp, and her demeanor was cold. Yet the way she carried herself the quiet confidence, the steady gaze commanded respect.
King Alden met her in the throne room. "Elizabeth," he said, extending a hand. "Thank you for coming."
She didn't take it. "Save your thanks," she said bluntly. "I'm here to kill werewolves, not make friends. Tell me everything you know."
Over the next few hours, Elizabeth learned of the plague's spread, the nature of the attacks, and the kingdom's desperate state. She listened intently, asking sharp, probing questions. By the end of the meeting, she had a plan.
Elizabeth didn't waste time. She began training Gama's soldiers, teaching them how to fight the werewolves effectively. Silver weapons were forged, traps were set, and strategies were devised. But Elizabeth knew that killing the infected wouldn't be enough. To save Gama, she needed to find the source of the curse and destroy it.
With Darius by her side, she led a small group of warriors into the heart of the infected territory. The journey was perilous, filled with ambushes and close calls. But Elizabeth's skill and determination kept them alive.
Finally, they reached the ruins of the village where the curse had begun. There, they found a shocking truth: the curse had been deliberately unleashed by Ostonia. Arthur, the beta werewolf who had started it all, waited for them, ready to finish what he had begun.
The battle against Arthur was fierce and bloody. Elizabeth faced him head-on, her skill matched only by his raw power. It was a fight of wills as much as strength, each blow carrying the weight of the lives they fought for.
In the end, Elizabeth prevailed. With a final strike, she drove her silver blade into Arthur's heart, ending the curse's spread. The remaining werewolves, cut off from their leader, fell into disarray.
The victory was hard-won, and Gama would never be the same. But under King Alden's leadership and Elizabeth's guidance, the kingdom began to rebuild. The people mourned their losses but found hope in their survival.
Elizabeth left as quietly as she had arrived, disappearing into the wilderness. She had done her job, but her war against the curse was far from over. For Gama, she was a savior. For Elizabeth, it was just another battle.