Chapter 0384

My breath catches as I witness the sheer force Isolde just unleashed. And she claims it was only half her strength. In one devastating blast, she sent three Alphas, a fae king, and an entire squad of warriors tumbling backward like bowling pins.

Genevieve starts applauding. "Damn, Isolde! That was insane!"

Nathaniel jogs toward Sebastian, who's limping but already shaking off the impact.

I move with Oberon and Adrian toward my mate. "You okay?" Her golden eyes scan me for injuries, hands already reaching to check for wounds.

"Fine. But holy hell, sweetheart. I had no idea you packed that kind of punch."

"I warned you," she says, flexing her fingers. "This power... it's overwhelming."

When Sebastian approaches, she immediately fusses over him. "Did I hurt you? I'm so sorry—"

"Relax, Luna." He grins, rubbing his shoulder. "I volunteered for this. Worth every bruise to see that display."

"Aurora?" Oberon addresses the wolf spirit directly rather than Isolde. "That was truly half strength?"

"Correct. I channeled my energy through Isolde's Alpha aura while regulating the output."

"Remarkable. We'll need alternative methods to gauge your full capabilities. Unleashing complete power here would level the territory."

"I think we're done testing limits today."

"Are you drained from the exertion?" Oberon's silver brows knit together.

I slide an arm around Isolde's waist. "She's worried about collateral damage to Blackthorn Pack. Let's shift focus." Through our bond, I feel her guilt over Sebastian's minor injuries, though he's healing rapidly.

"Agreed. Now I'd like to assess your enhancements." Oberon gestures toward the training grounds.

I guide Isolde to a bench, pressing a kiss to her temple before joining the others.

"Just to be clear—I can't do what she just did."

Oberon chuckles. "Nor should you. But mating a Guardian alters your physiology. Liam—forgive me—Sebastian has agreed to spar?"

"Hell yes!" The Nightshade Alpha springs up, cracking his knuckles. "Payback time for all those training sessions you skipped?"

I drop into a defensive stance. "You'll have to earn it."

The moment we engage, the differences become apparent. My reflexes are sharper, movements more fluid. Where I once struggled against Alpha speed, now I'm outpacing Sebastian.

His punches—which left me bruised for days during my recovery—now feel like love taps. Meanwhile, my strikes make him grunt.

After thirty minutes, Oberon calls time.

Sebastian massages his ribs where I landed a solid hit. "Since when do you hit like a freight train?"

"Pretty sure that's new." I smirk, nudging his shoulder. "Or maybe you're getting slow in your old age."

"Old? You've got a decade on me, grandpa." He shoves me back.

A year ago, if someone told me I'd be sparring with Sebastian Blackwood in Adrian Grey's backyard, joking with two of the most feared Alphas on the continent, I'd have called them delusional. Yet here we stand.

"Your turn, Adrian." Sebastian wipes sweat from his brow. "Think you can handle the old man?"

Adrian rolls his shoulders. "Doubtful. But I'll humor him."

Unlike Sebastian, I don't have years of experience with Adrian's fighting style. Yet even against his youth and agility, I'm dodging strikes with unnatural precision. He lands a few blows, but none carry their former brutality.

When Oberon ends the match, I confirm the pattern: enhanced speed, reduced susceptibility to Alpha strength.

The implications send a thrill down my spine.