Heir to the Alpha Universe: New Era of the Alpha

ANTHONY

My mom had been adamant about me taking the girl home, so I did. It didn’t take long, and I still had time for breakfast. The rest of my morning was consumed by alpha training, a grueling regimen my dad had crafted for me.

It was all crucial—strategy, leadership, history—but by the time afternoon rolled around, I was craving something more physical. Something that got my blood pumping. That’s when I decided to join Kevin.

He was deep into guard training, part of the beta program, and sometimes I’d join him—on the down low. My parents would have flipped if they knew. Especially my mom.

She’d repeated it to me a thousand times: “Anthony, you must steer clear of silver at all costs.” Her words still echoed in my head. I kind of got her fear.

I was born prematurely due to a silver attack she’d suffered, and she was convinced it had left me susceptible. But the guard training felt safe. Controlled.

And when I fought, I didn’t just feel alive—I felt like me. Kevin was cool about covering for me. He knew how much I loved the rush of combat, especially the hands-on aspect of training.

Swords, daggers, hand-to-hand—every strike, every dodge, every parry felt significant. I didn’t just want to lead the pack; I wanted to protect it. When the bell rang, signaling the start of free combat, I couldn’t help but grin.

My opponent, as always, was Kevin. We were evenly matched in height and strength, which made every bout unpredictable. I thrived on that challenge.

Kevin made the first move, aiming for my hip. I deflected, swiftly countering his next strikes from the right and left. His movements were sharp, precise, but I was quicker, landing two swift hits to his arm.

Then, he pulled out a dagger. The scent of silver hit my nose instantly—a sharp, acidic smell that set my instincts on edge. I drew my own weapon, a simple steel blade, and the fight continued.

Our strikes were relentless, steel clashing against silver, each blow calculated and fierce. I managed to cut Kevin’s arm again, drawing a shallow wound.

“Nice move,” Kevin said, wincing slightly as he glanced at his arm.

“Thanks,” I replied, keeping my eyes on him. “You’re getting better with that dagger.”

Kevin smirked. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” He lunged at me again, and the fight resumed with renewed intensity.

But then he got me—a sharp slash across my thigh. I stumbled back, feeling the sting just as the gong sounded to end the fight. The instructor was at my side in seconds, holding anti-silver ointment.

“Stay still,” he ordered. But before he could touch the wound, everyone froze. The cut wasn’t bleeding. Not a single drop.

Where there should have been a steady flow of blood—a telltale sign of a silver wound—there was nothing. Only a faint line where the blade had sliced, already beginning to close.

“What the…,” someone muttered behind me. The silence was deafening. Kevin stood a few feet away, his face pale as he looked at his own silver blade, then back at me.

Silver didn’t affect me. My heart pounded in my chest. I glanced down at my leg again, watching the last trace of the wound vanish as though it had never been there.

The black fabric of my uniform was pristine, no blood, no damage. As everyone’s gaze turned to me, I saw Kevin—my best friend, my constant companion—take his own dagger and slice it across his arm.

The blood began to pour immediately, dark and steady, soaking into his sleeve without stopping. Gasps filled the air. The instructor rushed to Kevin’s side, fumbling with the ointment as the rest of the group stared in stunned silence.

“I thought you had the silver dagger,” the instructor said, his voice tinged with disbelief. “But it was Anthony, then.”

The words hung in the air for a moment. Everyone’s eyes turned to me, and I stood frozen, trying to process what had just happened.

The instructor finally applied the ointment to Kevin’s wound, but his voice lacked conviction. “Good hit, boy.” He muttered, and I nodded my thanks, my head spinning.

Kevin’s gaze slowly rose to meet mine. His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of understanding between us—we knew what had happened.

I moved my lips, mouthing a silent, “Thank you,” making sure no one else could hear and hoping Kevin would keep the secret.

“Kevin, I don’t know if the ointment will stop the bleeding,” the instructor said, his voice uncertain. He scratched his head, looking at the wound like it might somehow heal on its own.

But we both knew it wouldn’t. It wasn’t a simple graze. Kevin had cut himself with a silver blade, and silver wounds didn’t heal like normal cuts.

“I’ll take him to the infirmary. My sister should be on duty,” I said, already moving to lift Kevin by the arm. I grabbed the cloth from the instructor’s hand and wrapped it around Kevin’s arm tightly, trying to stop the bleeding as we headed out.

I didn’t say another word to anyone in the training center. My mind was too focused on what had just happened. This wasn’t just a training accident—this was something I couldn’t ignore.

As I practically dragged Kevin out to my car, I pulled out my phone, my fingers trembling slightly as I dialed Caroline’s number.

“Hey,” I said as soon as she picked up, trying to keep my voice steady. “You’re not on duty today, right? Can you meet us in the emergency room?”

“Of course. What happened?” Her tone immediately shifted to worry.

“Kevin’s been cut with a silver dagger. It’s nothing serious; he just needs the serum. But I need to talk to you, too,” I said, trying to sound calm, but the pit in my stomach kept growing.

I didn’t want to ask her what I needed to ask, not over the phone. I needed to see her in person, to ask without the distance of a conversation.

“Okay. I’m on my way. Meet me at the emergency entrance,” she said, her voice firm and reassuring. “I’ll be there soon.”

I breathed a little easier, knowing Caroline would be there. She always knew how to keep me grounded, how to make everything seem less impossible.

We didn’t need to explain everything to each other. We were just there for each other—always. As I hung up, I glanced over at Kevin.

His face was pale, but he gave me a nod, as if to reassure me that everything was fine. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t.

The wound had closed too quickly, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I needed answers. And I needed Caroline’s help to get them.

I drove as fast as I could, the engine roaring beneath me, my hands gripping the wheel tight. I could hear Kevin’s low grunts from the passenger seat, even though he was a strong man.

The burn from the silver dagger was clearly affecting him, and each wince made the doubts swirling in my mind grow heavier. How did I not feel anything?

Why didn’t it hurt me? Why did my body heal without leaving a mark?

I stole another look at Kevin, his face twisted in agony, his jaw locked tight against the pain. A low groan slipped from him, yanking me back to reality. There was no time for pondering now.

“I’m driving as fast as I can. Caroline is expecting us,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “And thanks for having my back.”

Kevin didn’t answer right away. His voice was hushed and filled with disbelief when he finally spoke. “Anthony, what just happened? I sliced your thigh with a silver dagger…and you’re fine.”

“I don’t know,” I mumbled, shaking my head, my focus on the road. “I just don’t know. Hopefully, Caroline can help us make sense of this.”

We pulled into the hospital parking lot, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on me. Caroline was already there, waiting by the entrance, standing tall in her scrubs and lab coat. Her presence was comforting—her calm demeanor always managed to ground me.

“Follow me.” She gestured toward the door. She led us swiftly through the corridors, her movements marked by practiced urgency.

We arrived at Room 5, and I helped Kevin sit down, my hands trembling slightly as I wrapped a cloth around his arm. Caroline stepped forward without hesitation, her eyes quickly assessing the situation.

“Kevin, sit down. I’ll start the treatment.” She reached for the IV kit and latex gloves, her movements steady and focused. But then, she looked at me, her brow furrowing. “Why are you in a guard uniform, Anthony?”

I hesitated for a moment before I brushed off her question and instead helped Kevin get comfortable, avoiding her gaze. The IV was inserted swiftly, and Caroline adjusted the tourniquet to access his veins.

As she started the treatment, I watched Kevin’s face gradually relax, the bleeding ceasing as the serum did its job.

“Better,” Caroline said, finishing the procedure with a smile. “There’ll probably be a scar, but it’s nothing serious. Did this happen during training?”

Kevin gave a small nod and managed a weak smile. But then, his eyes shifted to me, and Caroline followed his gaze. I knew exactly where this was headed.

I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck. “That’s what I wanted to discuss,” I began, the words heavy in my chest. “Don’t tell Mom, but I’ve been doing guard training with Kevin.”

“Anthony,” Caroline warned, her voice quiet but firm.

“I know,” I said quickly, interrupting her. “They told me not to, but I don’t understand why not. Dad did it. Grandpa did it. Uncle Thomas did it, and Kevin is doing it—why can’t I do it too?”

Caroline’s gaze softened as she looked at me, but there was something else in her eyes—something that hinted she knew more than she was revealing. I was about to press for answers, but I stopped myself. This wasn’t the time.

“I’ve been doing it for a while now, and we’ve had a few fights, but today, it was me and Kevin. He pulled out a silver dagger, and nothing happened…” I trailed off, unsure how to continue.

Kevin’s eyes darted nervously to Caroline, then back to me. But before I could explain further, I saw her face go pale. She looked away quickly, standing up and pacing, her mind racing.

“No reaction?” I asked, a hint of frustration creeping into my voice. “Did you already know?”

She stopped, her back to me, then turned slowly. “No. Definitely not,” Caroline replied, her voice a little quieter. “I just suspected.”

She pulled out her cell phone, her fingers dialing quickly. I watched her for a moment, but a wave of unease washed over me.

“Caroline, wait,” I said, grabbing her wrist before she could make the call. “We can’t tell Mom. Not yet. She’ll freak out if she finds out I’ve been doing training without her permission.”

“Anthony,” she said softly, her voice steady but filled with that certainty I couldn’t argue with, “they need to know.”

I shook my head, desperation creeping in. “Please, Caroline. She’ll go crazy. We need to figure this out first. Don’t tell them.”

She met my eyes, her expression unwavering, just like Dad’s when he gave orders. “Trust me, Anthony. They need to know.”

I wanted to argue, to fight back, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. Caroline had always known what was best for me. She was right. I had to trust her.

“Okay,” I said, defeated.

Caroline’s face softened, and she dialed Mom’s number. Her voice was calm and assured as she spoke. “Mom, can you come to the emergency room? Room 5. No, it’s not an emergency, but we need to talk to you—me and Anthony.”

The door to the room opened sooner than I expected. My mom burst in, panic written all over her face. My dad followed closely behind, his expression equally concerned. They scanned the room, their wide eyes landing on me.

I immediately felt guilty for letting Caroline make the call. This was exactly what I didn’t want.

“I said you shouldn’t call them. Now they both came in worried, and it was nothing,” I muttered, running my hand through my hair.

“What happened?” Mom’s voice was tight with concern, but when she saw Kevin’s arm and the IV, she immediately shifted her focus. “Kevin, sweetheart, are you okay?”

Kevin, ever the diplomat, flashed her a reassuring smile. “Yeah, Auntie. It was just a silver burn. Caroline treated it, and I’m fine now.”

Mom sighed in relief but turned to me, her eyes dancing between me and Caroline. “You said you needed to talk to us. I thought something serious had happened.”

I could feel the weight of the moment. The truth was about to come out, and I wasn’t sure how much more I could handle.

“I think you’d better tell them,” Caroline said, glancing at me.

I exhaled in frustration, feeling trapped. This wasn’t how I imagined this conversation going.