Transmigrated: The Lycan King's Pet
Chapter 51 Punishment

Chapter 51: Chapter 51 Punishment

"What do you mean you don’t know? You suddenly turned around and kept walking towards this direction. I called you several times, but you didn’t answer me. You have grown some guts, haven’t you?"

"Master, I have no idea. I don’t remember how I came here."

Damon’s eyes narrowed. "You don’t remember?"

I shook my head, my heart pounding in my ears at the strange situation. Why couldn’t I remember everything he said?

"Come, Ember."

His hand slipped down my shoulder to my wrist. He pulled me along, his jaws clenched, his eyes burning with fury as if he knew what had happened.

Damon didn’t speak again after that. He simply led me out of the woods, his hand wrapped tightly around my wrist like he was afraid I’d disappear if he let go.

But he wasn’t looking at me.

His eyes were on the ground, distant, as if he were trying to piece something together. Maybe he was. Because whatever had happened back there... that voice, that light—I didn’t understand it either. I had heard a lullaby that no one else seemed to hear. I walked like I was in a trance. And now, I couldn’t remember half of it.

But Damon... his silence wasn’t the normal brooding silence. It was the kind that wrapped around the air like a storm waiting to break.

He let go of me as soon as we reached a clearing opened up—flat land packed with reddish soil, bordered by wooden dummies and old weapons lying around like forgotten toys.

I blinked. "Here?"

He didn’t answer. Just walked ahead and pointed at the wide clearing surrounded by logs and dirt paths. Some warriors were training on the far side, throwing daggers and sparring, while the others in their wolf form.

Aggressive growls and snarls pierced through the air. The moment they noticed us, they paused. Whispers broke out. A few of them nodded in our direction, others just watched curiously.

I rubbed my sore wrist and turned to Damon. "What are we doing here?"

"Your punishment," he said flatly. "Of course."

My heart skipped. "Me? Why?" I feigned innocence.

He turned to me, his face unreadable. "Because you ate enough food for five warriors, disobeyed my orders, and wandered off into danger like a fool."

"But..."

"No excuses." He walked over to a wooden post and grabbed a strip of cloth. "You’ll run."

"Run?"

He walked up to me and grabbed my injured hand—not harshly, but still firm enough to make me wince. "This will stay tied to your neck while you do it."

"Wait. No. I can’t..."

"You can," he cut in. "Or you’ll sleep outside the camp tonight with no food."

My lips parted in disbelief. "You’re not serious."

He raised a brow. "Am I ever not serious?"

He tied the cloth without another word, looping it over my shoulder so that my injured hand was pressed against my chest and immobilized.

The warriors had now gathered closer, some trying not to laugh, others looking at me with pity. I could feel my cheeks burn.

Damon pointed to the dirt path that circled the field. "Ten laps."

"What?!" I nearly choked. "That’s like running to the moon and back!"

"I can make it twenty," he said with a shrug.

I gritted my teeth. "You’re a monster."

"Start running, Ember."

The first lap nearly killed me. My side cramped before I even got halfway. The second lap felt like my legs were made of stone. I tripped once and landed on my knee, scraping it on a rock.

Someone laughed. I didn’t see who, but I felt embarrassment crawl under my skin.

By the third lap, I stopped caring about the pain. My whole body was burning, drenched in sweat, and my throat was dry. The cloth bit into my neck, keeping my bad arm locked and useless.

’Damn this body, how can it be so weak? I’ve done martial arts all my life, but why does it feel like I’m about to die.’ I panted, I rested my hand on my knees, my vision blurred, my chest tightened as if a mountain was pressing down against it.

"Keep going!" Damon barked from where he stood with the others.

I threw him a glare so sharp it could’ve cut steel. "I’m dying!"

"Good. Die faster."

Some of the pack members chuckled at his dry tone, but there were a few—especially the older women—who shook their heads at him.

The fifth lap was when something inside me shifted. I don’t know what it was—anger, pride, or pure stubbornness—but I refused to collapse. I ran, my feet heavy, my chest aching.

By the time I staggered into the final lap, the field was spinning. My legs were shaking like a vibrator. My throat patched up. I couldn’t even feel my toes anymore.

But after I finished the punishment , I was kinda proud of myself. A pitch rang in my ears, my chest hurt so bad that the sound I could make was a ragged breath. I collapsed. For a moment everything went blank. When I regained consciousness, I panted like a dog in the sun, gasping for air.

The sky above me was spinning in slow circles, and every breath burned my throat. I wanted to cry. But I didn’t want to give Damon the satisfaction.

Slowly, I pushed myself up and limped away. I didn’t wait for permission. I didn’t even bother to look back. I headed straight for the tent.

Some warriors made way for me as I passed. I heard a few whispers. One said, "She’s got guts." Another muttered, "Poor thing. She looks like she would break any second."

I ignored them.

When I got to my tent, I collapsed onto the mattress and didn’t move for a long time. I thought I was alone. But I wasn’t.

A shadow moved near the flap.

Damon.

He was standing a few meters away, watching.

Why?

I didn’t know. Maybe he expected me to run away again. Maybe he was just making sure I didn’t drop dead after all that.

But he didn’t come in. He just stood there. Silent. Then turned and walked away.