Teen Wolf : Real supernatural

The morning sun crept over the tree line of Beacon Hills, casting golden rays over the quiet town. It was the kind of morning that seemed ordinary to anyone passing through—a sleepy, peaceful place where life moved at a steady, predictable pace.

But beneath the surface, Beacon Hills was anything but ordinary.

Scott McCall sprinted through the woods, his breath even, his muscles coiled with supernatural strength as he dodged tree branches. His senses were heightened, ears attuned to every rustle of the wind, every heartbeat of the creatures hiding within the forest. His best friend, Stiles Stilinski, was far behind, stumbling over roots and panting loudly.

"Scott—wait—up!" Stiles gasped.

Scott halted at the edge of a clearing and turned, amusement flickering in his golden eyes. "You wanted to train, didn't you?"

Stiles collapsed onto the ground. "Yeah, but I didn't sign up for a full-on werewolf obstacle course."

Scott grinned, offering him a hand. "You need to be faster. We don't know what's out there anymore."

Stiles accepted the help, brushing dirt off his jeans. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. Supernatural threats everywhere. But can't we just, for once, have a normal school day without something trying to kill us?"

Scott's expression darkened. He knew things had been relatively quiet lately—no hunters chasing them, no rogue supernatural beings terrorizing the town. It was almost peaceful.

Too peaceful.

As they turned back toward the school, neither of them noticed the way the shadows in the trees stretched unnaturally, twisting like tendrils of living darkness.

Beacon Hills was never truly safe.

A Quiet High School – Or So It Seemed

The halls of Beacon Hills High School buzzed with the usual energy of students moving between classes, laughter echoing as groups of friends talked in clusters by the lockers.

Sitting near a window in one of the classrooms, Lucian Drake rested his chin on his hand, staring at the sunlight filtering through the glass.

Lucian was known as the mysterious senior who didn't talk much but seemed to know everything. His jet-black hair fell in waves over his pale skin, and his crimson eyes gleamed unnaturally in the light.

Most students avoided him. Some whispered that he was part of some underground gang. Others thought he was just a loner.

None of them knew the truth.

Lucian wasn't just another high school student. He was the Vampire Leader, a being who had lived far longer than he let on. His presence in Beacon Hills was no accident.

Across the room, a tall, broad-shouldered guy with dirty blonde hair and piercing blue eyes slouched in his seat, spinning a pen between his fingers.

Fenrir Volkova, the Werewolf Leader, was arguably the strongest werewolf alive, but right now, he looked like a bored delinquent trying to stay awake. He let out a slow sigh, glancing at the clock.

"Man, when's lunch? I need a drink."

Lucian smirked, glancing at him. "It's 9 AM."

Fenrir shrugged. "And?"

"Try not to get arrested."

Sitting in front of them, a third student—Elias Voss, a sharp-eyed young man with silver hair and an almost unnatural calmness—turned a page in his book without looking up.

"Fenrir," Elias said in a voice smooth as silk, "perhaps if you applied even a fraction of your energy to your studies, you wouldn't need to ask that question every day."

Fenrir scoffed. "Right, because knowing algebra is going to help us when demons show up."

Lucian's smirk disappeared.

They all knew why they were here.

For years, the Neamoton, a sacred seal protecting the world from demon invasion, had held strong. But the Drach, a group of supernatural beings who had abandoned their orders in pursuit of dark power, had begun their rituals.

The seal was weakening.

Demons were stirring.

And these four faction leaders—Vampire, Werewolf, Magician, and Hunter—had taken residence in Beacon Hills to stop it.

Their leader, the Hunter Leader, sat a few rows ahead of them, acting like nothing was amiss.

The Hunter Leader – A Predator Among Prey

Leaning back in his chair, Dante Cross stretched his arms behind his head, yawning as he listened to the lecture.

He looked normal—just another senior who liked cars and upgrading weapons as a hobby. But beneath his relaxed exterior, he was anything but normal.

Dante was Peak Apex Rank, a level of power so dangerous that if he wanted, he could wipe out entire factions by himself. His inhuman reflexes made him the ultimate predator—someone who never missed a shot, never failed to land a strike, and never hesitated when it came to eliminating a threat.

Yet here he was, sitting in class like any other high schooler.

He could feel the eyes of his fellow leaders on him.

Lucian, Fenrir, Elias—each of them understood why he was here. Why they were all here.

The Neamoton was failing.

The Drach were growing bolder.

And soon, demons would break through.

Dante sighed as the bell rang.

"Alright," he muttered. "Let's see how long this 'peace' lasts."

A Sudden Disturbance

The leaders filed out of class, blending into the crowd of students. Their faction members were scattered throughout the school, disguised as normal teens.

Everything seemed fine.

Until it wasn't.

Dante's senses screamed a warning.

The air shifted. The fluorescent lights above flickered. A sudden, bone-deep chill spread through the hallway, causing students to shiver.

Scott and Stiles, walking a few feet away, froze.

The sound of something inhuman scraped against the floor.

A janitor near the entrance collapsed, his body contorted unnaturally, his eyes wide open in terror.

Then, from the shadows, they came.

Demons.

Not the shapeshifters or supernatural creatures Scott and his friends were used to. These were twisted, monstrous beings, their forms made of writhing darkness and burning ember-like eyes.

Screams erupted. Students scattered.

Dante's expression darkened.

"Well," Fenrir cracked his knuckles, a spark of lightning crackling around his fists. "Guess peace didn't last long."

Lucian's crimson eyes gleamed, a faint aura of blood magic rippling around him.

Elias closed his book, his silver gaze piercing through the shadows, seeing the very flow of magic in the air.

Scott and his friends could barely process what was happening.

"What the hell are those things?!" Stiles shouted.

Scott growled, his claws extending, ready to fight.

But before he could move—

Dante vanished.

In a blur, he appeared in front of the nearest demon, his blade already slicing through its neck.

The creature didn't even have time to react before its body disintegrated.

Scott's breath hitched.

That… wasn't normal speed.

Dante turned, his gaze cold and sharp.

"You," he said to Scott and his group, his tone like steel, "stay out of this."

Scott clenched his fists. "We can help—"

Dante disappeared again, reappearing behind another demon. A gunshot echoed, and the creature's skull exploded.

Dante glanced back at them.

"No. You can't."

Scott felt a chill—not from the demons, but from Dante himself.

Who was this guy?

And more importantly…

What the hell was he?

To Be Continued…