Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby
Chapter 139: End of the Duel

Chapter 139: End of the Duel

In Lunargarde, the werewolves’ sacred coliseum, the duel between Lucian Greymoore and Ethan Raynor continued to rage. Dust swirled in the air, the scent of blood and sweat heavy on the breeze. Lucian had long lost his composure... his movements were wild, his attacks desperate. Although he hadn’t inflicted much visible damage on Ethan’s body, the state of Ethan’s tattered clothes spoke volumes about the intensity of the battle. They bore testament to Lucian’s relentless pressure and the sheer force of his power.

With a roar, Lucian launched dozens of earth spikes at Ethan, each projectile moving at a blistering speed. Ethan stepped back swiftly to dodge, but just as he did, an earth pillar erupted behind him... clearly a calculated move on Lucian’s part. Trapped between the spikes and the rising stone, Ethan had no time to evade.

In a flash, Ethan raised an energy barrier in front of him to block the deadly assault. Simultaneously, he shifted his weight and tried to dodge as many spikes as possible.

Two spikes collided with the barrier, and it cracked in several places. Ethan gritted his teeth and ducked low, narrowly avoiding another. A third spike struck the barrier, and it shattered with a sharp, echoing crack. With the protective shield gone, Ethan was forced to deflect the incoming spikes using only his palms... each one redirected with precise and fluid movements.

When the last spike fell to the ground, Ethan quickly widened the distance between himself and Lucian to prevent any follow-up attacks.

Lucian snarled in frustration, his voice booming across the arena. "It’s been more than two hours! If you have the strength, then fight me! Stop running like a coward! Face me like a warrior!"

Ethan tilted his head, genuinely surprised. "Two hours already? Time really flies."

Lucian roared again, veins bulging on his forehead. "What do you even know about fighting? All you do is dodge and hide! Come... face me head-on if you’re brave enough!"

Ethan shrugged. "Alright then. As you wish."

A fierce battle cry escaped Lucian’s throat as he activated his clan’s secret technique, "Battle Armour". All around him, debris and shattered stones began to gather and swirl in the air, drawn toward his body. The fragments rapidly encased him, forming a hardened layer of rocky armour. His height increased by several feet, and his already muscular frame expanded, becoming monstrous in size. Despite this increase in bulk, Lucian’s movements remained surprisingly swift... each step thunderous, but agile.

He performed a series of complex hand signs and murmured an ancient incantation. A visible surge of energy rippled across his body, and the temperature around him dropped. Gasps echoed from the spectators as a tangible pressure settled over the arena.

"Did you see that?" someone in the crowd exclaimed. "Lucian just amplified his strength. Ethan won’t stand a chance!"

"That technique... it’s not from the Greymoore clan. It looks like a new technique Lucian learned or they hid this technique till now. I’ve seen something like it from the Fenroth clan."

"I swear those were the same hand signs used by a Fenroth elder I saw once. How did Lucian learn them?"

"Could it be that the Fenroth clan shared their secrets with the Greymoores?"

"Impossible. No clan shares their secret techniques... especially important like this one."

"Doesn’t matter how he got it. Ethan’s in trouble now."

"Not necessarily. I don’t think Ethan has shown his full strength yet."

"I just hope he wins. I placed a decent bet on him."

Suddenly, Lucian surged forward with a roar. His massive, armor-coated body moved faster than anyone expected. His colossal fist punched through the air with such speed that it broke the sound barrier, creating a thunderous sonic boom.

Ethan, however, stood still... calm and unmoving, as if frozen in place.

But he wasn’t frozen. He was calculating.

Ethan activated his bloodline ability... Analysis. In a split second, countless lines, angles, and trajectories appeared before his eyes like a digital web overlaying reality. His pupils glowed faintly as he calculated probabilities. He chose the optimal rebound path within a heartbeat.

As Lucian’s enormous punch approached, Ethan sidestepped with precision and punched forward... not at Lucian, but directly at the armoured fist.

To the spectators, it looked absurd. A normal-sized man, barehanded and exhausted, striking a hulking fist clad in layers of rock and debris. The entire audience leaned forward in anticipation, expecting Ethan to be thrown across the arena like a ragdoll.

But what happened next stunned everyone.

Upon contact, a deep cracking sound echoed across the coliseum. Lucian’s monstrous punch disintegrated... crumbled like dry sand. The armour surrounding his arm shattered completely. The shockwave hurled Lucian backwards through the air. He slammed into the ground yards away, skidding across the dirt and finally lying still in his wolf form, unconscious.

The arena fell Into a deathly silence.

Seconds passed, but Lucian did not rise.

The crowd remained frozen, as if unwilling to believe what they had just witnessed. Then, somewhere in the stands, a cheer broke the silence. And another. Then another.

Suddenly, the entire coliseum erupted into thunderous applause and wild celebration.

Aside from the Greymoore clan and a handful of their allies, nearly everyone in attendance had been silently rooting for Ethan. He wasn’t just the underdog... he had shown resilience, intelligence, and strength under pressure. For many, it wasn’t just a victory... it was a triumph of perseverance over arrogance.

The referee walked to the center and raised his hand. "And the Winner is: Ethan Raynor!"

Healers rushed to Lucian’s side to tend to his injuries. Meanwhile, the Greymoore clan members gathered quietly, their faces stiff and unreadable. They didn’t wait for the celebrations to die down. Instead, they exited the coliseum in silence, heading to their private jets parked at the airstrip nearby. Within the next few minutes, they had left the venue.

***

In the VIP section above, the Council of members rose from their seats. At their head was the Arbiter, who gave a silent gesture, and the group began to leave the coliseum in dignified silence.

Sarika was just about to follow when she felt her phone vibrate. It was a message from Fiona.

She smiled after reading the message. Once again, Eleanor’s behavior piqued her interest. It reminded her of a task she had assigned to one of her scientist friends living in the United States. Without hesitation, she dialed the number.

"Rebecca, is it done?"

"Yes," came the calm reply. "It’s ready. You can come pick it up anytime."

"Perfect. I’ll be on my way now."

Ending the call, Sarika walked over to the other council members and smiled politely. "Apologies, everyone. Something urgent just came up. Please enjoy dinner without me... I’ll join you next time."

With that, she turned and exited toward the private airstrip where multiple jets were preparing for departure. Among the crowd, her eyes landed on Ethan Raynor.

He stood near his private plane, surrounded by a group of enthusiastic youngsters. Despite his cold and reserved demeanor, they eagerly surrounded him, taking photos and even asking for autographs.

Sarika raised an eyebrow in mild amusement. "So this is what victory looks like in this era," she thought.

Sarika was amused by Ethan’s sudden surge in popularity. Without wasting time, she boarded a flight and headed to the United States.

***

Sarika Somavati Harivamsa, the Priest of Werewolves, stepped out of her private jet at Baltimore–Washington International Thurgood Marshall Airport. A helicopter was already waiting for her nearby. Without delay, she boarded it and took off toward the Johns Hopkins Institute of Genetic Medicine in Baltimore.

As the helicopter descended at the rooftop helipad, Sarika caught sight of the sprawling East Baltimore medical campus... a dense and orderly maze of red-brick buildings, glass-fronted towers, and rooftop HVAC arrays shimmering in the morning haze.

She spotted the unmistakable blue-and-white dome of The Johns Hopkins Hospital, and just a few rooftops away, the McKusick-Nathans Institute of Genetic Medicine... a sleek, glass-clad research hub nestled against a backdrop of 19th-century brick facades.

A security officer, sent by Rebecca, was already waiting to receive her. After verifying her identity, he handed her a visitor badge and guided her toward the elevator. As the doors slid shut, the sounds of the bustling campus faded away, replaced by a soft hum and a subtle shift in pressure as the lift began its smooth ascent.

The elevator descended past floors of precision laboratories, genetic sequencing bays, and conference rooms softly lit by the glow of smart glass. When the doors slid open, the crisp scent of isopropyl alcohol and sterilized surfaces greeted her. Her boots clicked against the polished tile floor as she stepped into the core research wing, where portraits of historic geneticists lined the walls and plasma screens displayed dynamic, spiraling genomes in continuous motion.

The security officer departed as soon as he spotted Dr. Rebecca Lewis approaching from the hallway.

Rebecca’s face lit up with a dazzling smile the moment she saw her dear friend. She rushed forward and pulled Sarika into a tight hug. After a brief moment of warmth and enthusiasm, she stepped back and composed herself, the smile fading into a more serious expression.

"The report is ready. Come to my office," she said in a firm, businesslike tone.

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