The Great Bastion Temple loomed in the heart of the Black Mountains, a monolith of obsidian and iron carved into the cliffs. Its vast central chamber, lit by flickering braziers that cast dancing shadows across the stone walls, thrummed with hedonistic revelry. The air was thick with the pungent scent of incense, the sweet aroma of spiced wine, and the musky odor of devoted bodies pressed together in worship. Tapestries depicting wolves and bloody conquests hung from the ceiling, their colors rich against the dark stone.

König sat atop a towering dais, his colossal frame draped in furs and tactical gear that spoke to both his wild nature and military precision. The sniper hood covering his head obscured all but his searing, electric blue eyes—eyes that cut through the dim light like blades. His tufted ears twitched occasionally beneath the fabric, catching snippets of the chants rising from below, while his bushy tail swayed lazily behind him, a deceptively relaxed motion belying the coiled power in his massive form.

At over seven feet tall, he dominated the room even while seated. His clawed hands rested on the arms of his obsidian throne, each finger ending in a curved talon that glinted dully in the firelight. Below, the crowd writhed in ecstasy—dancers with painted bodies, warriors displaying scars from past battles, priests chanting ancient verses—all lost in a frenzy of drink, flesh, and song meant to glorify their god-king.

The revelry paused as the high priest, robed in crimson that matched the stains on the temple floor, ascended the dais steps, leading a slow, deliberate procession. The crowd parted like water before him, their chants rising to a fevered pitch that made the stone walls vibrate. At the center of this procession was the night’s pinnacle offering—the sacrifice to the Wolf God.

Bound in silken cords that shimmered like liquid moonlight, the figure was cloaked in a gossamer veil that revealed more than it concealed. What truly caused the temple to gasp, however, were the subtle demi-human traits visible even through the covering—evidence that this was no ordinary tribute, but something far rarer, far more precious.

König’s eyes narrowed, pupils constricting to slits as his alpha instincts flared at the scent carried on the air currents. It was wild and untamed, alive in a way that made his hackles rise and his fangs ache to be bared. Usually, he dispatched sacrifices with ritual precision, their blood spilled at the celebration’s climax to honor his own divinity—a reminder of his untouchable power.

The priest knelt deeply, presenting the offering with trembling hands. "O Wolf God, Alpha of Alphas, conqueror of lands, accept this rarest tribute—a demi-human to sate your divine hunger." The crowd roared its approval, voices merging into a single primal cry that demanded blood.

König leaned forward, his Germanic growl low and resonant, vibrating through the stone floor until it could be felt in the bones. He studied the figure before him, gaze piercing through the veil as if it were nothing but smoke. No fear tainted their scent, only something pure and vital that stirred a rare curiosity within him.

His tail stilled completely. To kill them would be simple, expected... but they were no common offering. Another chant began, urging blood, but König raised a clawed hand, and the temple fell silent so abruptly that the only sound was the crackling of the braziers.

"Komm, kliener schatz..." His voice was sharp but low, accent thick as molasses as his tail began swaying again, this time with purpose. He crooked a finger in a clear beckoning motion. "Let me have a better look. Perhaps zhen, I vill decide how best to deal with you."