Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby novel Chapter 184

Chapter 184: History of Clan Blanc

The land stretches gently, a mixture of open skies and quietly rolling ground, where fields blur into patches of woodland and thickets cluster along the edges of winding lanes. Tall grasses shift with the wind, their pale-green blades dancing under a sky that changes often... one moment bright and open, the next veiled in slow-moving clouds.

Hedgerows border the roads like green walls, thick with hawthorn, ivy, and nettle, tangled together in wild patterns. In spring and early summer, they bloom with scattered white blossoms and the subtle hum of bees moving between tiny flowers. Elder trees lean over fences, their branches shaped by years of weather, casting dappled shade on the earth below.

Beyond the hedges, broad meadows open up... not flat, but gently undulating and dotted with wildflowers: buttercups, cow parsley, and the occasional thistle pushing through with stubborn beauty. Birds are constant companions here. Wood pigeons wheel across the air in soft flurries, crows stand sentinel on fenceposts, and smaller birds flit between the low brush and rustling grass.

Closer to the wooded areas, the light changes. It becomes filtered, golden, falling through the leaves in long, broken beams. The ground underfoot is soft with fallen leaves and moss, and the air carries the cool, damp scent of old trees and shaded soil. In these quiet groves, the sound of the outside world fades, replaced by birdsong, the occasional rustle of small creatures, and the whisper of breeze through the canopy.

Even the wind seems to know its path here... slipping over the rise of distant hills, bending the tall grasses, shaking a few early petals free. On misty mornings, the whole landscape lies hidden in a silver veil, and when the sun returns, it washes everything in a pale glow, drawing dew from every leaf and blade.

Knowsley is a landscape of quiet resilience... shaped by seasons, wind, and the long patience of nature, still alive and untouched along the edges of the human world.

Amidst this sanctuary of nature, Clan Blanc had resided for hundreds of years. They were a peace-loving clan that lived in isolation, away from worldly affairs. In ancient times, no one dwelled in this vast expanse of woods and lakes but this reclusive werewolf clan.

During eras of chaos and war, their unique shadow ability drew the attention of other supernatural races, who sought to enslave them for their own ends. The shadow power had limited offensive capabilities... it was effective for assassination of lower beings, but not in direct combat. Its true strengths lay in scouting and espionage. To defend themselves, Clan Blanc had to rely solely on their superior werewolf physique.

But as generations passed in peace and seclusion, even their physical strength waned.

These were the days before the Supernatural Council was established... a time of anarchy. Slavery was the norm then, and power among supernatural clans was often measured by the number and strength of slaves they owned.

In that brutal hierarchy, humans were considered worthless. The supernatural races saw themselves as the next stage in human evolution... an elevated, superior existence. Even now, most supernatural species view each other with rivalry and disdain, but when it comes to humans, there is an unspoken consensus: they are lesser, primitive, and beneath them all. Some races even regard humans as little more than a food source... livestock, to be consumed and discarded.

Ironically, humans themselves believed they were the centre of the world... the most intelligent species on Earth. Among them, countless factions and clans considered themselves superior to others, endlessly killing and enslaving each other to prove it. Yet, as the most populous of all intelligent races, with an exceptionally high reproductive rate, humanity remained dominant. No matter how many were slaughtered... by their own kind or others... they endured, multiplied, and spread all over the earth.

In those dark days, only the strongest human warriors were ever deemed worthy of becoming slaves in the supernatural world. The rest had no value. Supernatural forces were far more interested in enslaving other supernatural beings... especially those with unique abilities. Even within their own races, powerful clans sought to subjugate weaker ones to accumulate strength and influence.

Within that power structure, the rare shadow ability of Clan Blanc held exceptional significance. Other werewolf clans from the same island attempted to enslave them, hoping to harness that elusive power for espionage and infiltration. But they all failed. The Blanc territory was remote... isolated from other clans, and sending a large force left one’s own stronghold vulnerable. Moreover, Clan Blanc had long adapted to the harsh terrain of forests and lakes, and they could use the landscape to their advantage.

For a time, this isolation protected them.

But as rival clans were defeated and tales of their rare ability spread far and wide, word eventually reached beyond their island.

And that was when the true danger began.

When a group of Banshees attacked the clan, the Blancs were unable to defend themselves. The Banshees’ signature abilities... Piercing Wail and Death Omen Aura immobilised all the Clan Blanc warriors, before the fight even started. The former caused madness and deafness, while the latter induced overwhelming fear. Most of the clan members succumbed instantly.

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