Selene fixed me with an icy stare, her wolf eyes gleaming with barely contained hostility.

"Before the Council investigators arrive, I'll give you one last chance to confess your oath-breaking."

Darian adopted that insufferable I'm-only-trying-to-help tone, his scent deliberately muted to project false humility. "Once this blows up, you'll lose far more than some preliminary rite standing."

The Howl-Net chatter flooded in, praising him:

[The ML is too kind—even now he's giving the second lead a chance to confess.]

[He's SO pure-hearted. That's why he keeps rejecting the FL, because of her intended mate-claim with the villain.]

[These two destined wolves can't be together because of that TRASH. The FL has to practically beg him to accept her tribute offerings!]

[Can this pathetic simp just explode already?!]

I was starting to question these viewers' collective ability to scent deception.

If Darian were really the noble wolf they imagined, why was he entangled with Selene when he knew she bore another's mate-claim? His so-called "rejections" were textbook playing-hard-to-get, the kind of manipulation any experienced pack member could smell from a mile away.

One glance at his clothing—not a single piece crafted from anything less than premium moon-blessed leather—told me everything. Selene had been bankrolling him from the Crownhollow pack stores for the Ancestors knew how long.

And they actually believed he needed rite prize offerings for training dues? The stupidity was dragging down the average intelligence of our entire territory.

I regarded them both with cold indifference and stated again, "I don't need to swap ritual sigils to win. Especially not for some preliminary rite."

Murmurs rippled through the gathered wolves.

"Wait, that's true—this rite is just a regional trial. Kael has always competed in inter-territory championships."

"His pack's dominion is vast, and he's already established as a master rune-scribe. Why would he cheat?"

"What would he even gain?"

Doubt flickered across Selene's face. Her gaze slid toward me, uncertain now, her wolf instincts warring with her hatred.

But Darian's lips curled into a mocking sneer. He jabbed a claw-tipped finger toward my face.

"Need me to spell it out for you?"

"It's for the guaranteed bloodline placement!"

His voice turned razor-sharp. "You all think this rite is just about rankings and tribute prizes. But the grand champion gains a guaranteed position within the Ancient Moon-Keeper's Academy."

"That's something no amount of territorial competitions can secure!"

Gasps swept through the hall, the scent of shock permeating the air.

Selene's eyes filled with disgust. "Even if you claw your way into an elite academy through dishonor, you won't survive the first moon cycle. And besides—" She smiled coldly, her fangs glinting. "Your true nature is about to be exposed."

When my expression didn't waver, she pointed at me, voice dripping venom.

"We'll see who's howling in defeat when the evidence is laid bare!"

A group of uniformed Council investigators approached, one of them holding up a scrying crystal.

"This contains the complete record—the ritual creation process and the submission procedure. We're here to settle this dispute once and for all."

The lead investigator turned to me. "You're Kael Nightforge, the one who was reported for oath-breaking?" His tone was clinical, professional. "I'll ask you one final time: Did you swap another wolf's ritual work to secure guaranteed academy placement?"

Darian and Selene exchanged gleeful looks, practically vibrating with anticipation as they waited for the scrying evidence to destroy me.

I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly saw my own wolf spirit.

"I was granted exceptional bloodline admission last year," I said flatly, spreading my hands. "Why would I swap ritual sigils to get admitted... again?"