Transmigrated: The Lycan King's Pet
Chapter 33 The Heavy Rain

Chapter 33: Chapter 33 The Heavy Rain

He looked up at me, his brows furrowing. "Why not?"

I took a breath. "Because if the ground is already soaked, it won’t hold the weight of the wall. It’s not just about where the water starts—it’s about how stable the soil underneath is. Ten meters into the flood is already unstable."

Some of the other elders muttered something under their breath, clearly not pleased.

"If we build there, it might collapse halfway through or after the first heavy rainfall. Instead, we should build a wide wall just before the soft, soaked soil begins. That way, it’s more grounded. Like a dam—it doesn’t stop all the water, but it holds enough of it back to slow down the damage."

Elder Dominic didn’t speak at first. He stared at the map like he was trying to prove me wrong just by looking harder.

"She’s right," Damon said suddenly, stepping closer again. "I’ve seen humans do this. It works if the structure is wide enough to hold against the force."

Dominic sighed through his nose, still not liking it, but nodded. "Then we’ll adjust the plan."

I breathed out, realizing I had been holding it in.

Damon glanced at me again, something unreadable in his eyes. "Make sure they understand your idea. And supervise it properly."

I blinked. "Yes, Master."

As the men gathered their tools and materials, I walked down to the lower edge of the land, stopping where the dry soil met the floodwater. I crouched and dug my fingers into the mud. It was loose—too loose to build anything on.

"We start from here," I said to one of the workers. "Not farther in."

He nodded and called the others over. Slowly, they began placing rocks, then packed layers of grass and thick mud around it.

A few kids ran to help, carrying bundles of dry grass over their heads. One of the little girls grinned at me, mud on her cheeks.

I smiled back.

Despite everything—the disaster, the cold, the loss—there was still hope in their eyes. ’I thought you said you were doing this to gain followers? Is it still true or have you changed your agenda?’ One part of my mind questioned.

The question made me reflect on my stance again. ’Have you seen where a predator became nice to its prey because it had a change of mind about how cute or pitiful its prey is?’

’Yeah, there has been a documentary about some of them in wildlife stations.’ I facepalm myself remembering how true it was in some cases.

I inhaled deeply. ’So you think because I’m nice to them, I wouldn’t have them as my followers? Treating them nicely gives me a good leverage to gain their trust and loyalty.’ I reasoned with myself.

"Start piling the stones at the base!" someone shouted.

"Where’s the mud? Bring the grass bundles too!"

I moved with them, helping arrange the formation and showing the children how to carry lighter things.

Then, I watched as the men began to move rocks, stacking them on the ground as they built it up. I helped with other lighter things I could carry, because if I were to carry the rocks, I’m afraid I’d snap in two.

I was a little surprised to see the strength of the werewolves. It was more than twice that of a normal human, if I’m not mistaken.

When I turned around, I saw Damon carrying rocks. He was shirtless, his muscles flexing with every movement he took, then he laid them on top of the already placed ones.

My mouth opened wide as I gawked at him. As if he had sensed me looking at him, his eyes snapped toward me before narrowing.

I bent down to join the other women who were covering the gaps with mud and grass. Meanwhile, my eyes didn’t leave his body for a second.

Then he came again, returning with more rocks in his arms. I averted my gaze when I saw him coming toward me.

The thudding of rocks being placed on other rocks made me raise my head up, which I regretted immediately, as my eyes locked with his—well, before moving down to his chest.

"If you weren’t my pet, I might have gouged your eyes out by now, since they won’t stop gawking at me. I know I’m flawless and the perfect definition of perfection, but you should learn to control those eyes."

’What an irony—kettle calling a pot black when it is also black. Well, that analogy doesn’t exist anymore as most humans have stopped using firewood.’

I scoffed inwardly. ’Who has been staring nonstop all this while? Isn’t that you? As if you wanted to bore a hole into my skull.’

I forced a smile on my lips. "I apologize, Master."

"Good. Stop gawking if you know you can’t answer my call." He moved away before I could say anything.

I stared at his retreating frame in disbelief. This guy is the perfect blend of a narcissist and a psychopath.

We managed to cover a lot of areas in a few hours—well, thanks to the amazing strength of the werewolves and, of course, teamwork.

But just when things started going smoothly, thunder flashed through the sky. Then a drop of rain fell on my face. I raised my head up, and the sky rumbled, before the clouds broke loose.

The rain came heavily, with cold drops that hit like pebbles and soaked everyone within minutes.

"Cover the sacks!"

"Get the kids inside!"

I ran to grab one of the grass bundles that was sliding into the mud when I heard a scream.

"Help! My leg’s stuck!"

A young boy had sunk into a patch of thick mud on the other side of the wall. The water rose quickly around him.

I dropped everything and ran toward him without a second thought. "Hold on!" I yelled as I jumped over the thick wall of rocks, landing into the water.

The water got to my chest level, covering the little boy who was flailing his arm up above the water. I took a deep breath before I dove my head into the water.

The cold water swallowed me whole as I reached blindly for the boy’s hand, praying I wasn’t too late.