Chapter 8: Hierarchy Structure

​I looked around the small room until my eyes landed on an old, cracked smartphone sitting on the nightstand. It took me by surprise when I saw the other students using it, but I’m getting better with the memories of this body, so I know a thing or two.

I picked it up and tapped the screen. A low-battery icon flashed, along with a notification warning that data usage was nearly maxed out.

​Figures.

​Still, I found it surprisingly handy that an entire world’s worth of information was packed into a sleek little box that fit right in the palm of my hand. This world had really come far.

I opened the browser, using what little data was left to carefully search the modern layout of this society. I needed to know the rules before I started breaking them.

​The political structure was vicious. There were no kings and rulers like they were in my previous era. Instead, the entire region was ruled by the High Council of Alphas—a coalition made up of the Four Great Packs.

They controlled everything: the military, the financial sector, and the laws. Beneath them were the Council Elders, acting like a Senate to pass legislation that kept lower ranks in line.

​According to the records, Brianna belonged to the Grey Moon Pack—a low-ranking, forgotten group that didn’t even scrape the edges of the top four. So, that was why the pack could not be bothered to waste resources on a family of wolfless Omegas.

The ruling territories were divided among the heavyweights: the Delta Pack, the Garma Pack, the Almond Pack, and the Raven Pack.

​Raven Pack. It wasn’t hard to guess who found and funded Ravenhollow Academy.

And then my mind briefly flashed back to the red-eyed Alpha—Damian—at the principal’s office. Ashford seemed very respectful towards him, despite the fact that he was simply a student. He must definitely belong to one of these four great packs. I need to be wary of him for now.

Moving on...

​Alphas owned the corporations and the land. Betas ran the institutions and enforcement. Omegas—like Brianna’s family—were nothing more than cheap labor, pushed to the margins with no political power.

​A corporate feudalism disguised as a modern society, I noted coldly, rolling onto my side with a quiet sigh. Boring. I had never liked politics in my past life, and I certainly didn’t care for them now.

​Strip away the glossy surface, and the fundamental structure wasn’t much different from my own era.

This world just had far more advanced technology and used magical artifacts sparingly.

Browsing further, I noticed a few notable exceptions—artifacts reserved for special occasions, like the Day of Prosperity, a mate-bonding ceremony where wolves checked for their fated mates under the blessing of the Moon Goddess.

​Then, one specific headline caught my attention: certain rare artifacts could actually boost a wolf’s raw power and were frequently awarded as prizes in high-level competitions.

​"Now, this isn’t so boring," I whispered.

​I tapped on the link for the upcoming competitions, eager to read more, but the screen suddenly froze. A loading icon spun uselessly before a red error message popped up. Out of data.

​"Dammit!" I hissed, tapping the glass in frustration. Without this thing called data, the box became practically useless.

​I flopped back onto the bed and stared up at the cracked ceiling, crossing one leg over the other. Well, at least I had the basic gist of it all. This world was far more advanced—and significantly safer—than the blood-soaked era I came from.

​Was my death secretly a blessing in disguise?

Anyway, I still needed to find a way to make money.

​Getting a legal job as an Omega student was out of the question. Brianna had some part-time jobs, but they only paid pennies and took too much time. I can’t live like that.

I needed fast, liquid cash, and I doubted I could rely on this impoverished family for any decent currency. I was strictly on my own in that department.

​An underground gambling ring. The thought crossed my mind, but in my current state, I’d be dead with one hit. So, how about gambling?

​In my past life, undercover missions forced me to master almost every trade—from forging documents to high-stakes card sharping. Reading body language, tracking micro-expressions, and calculating odds were second nature to me. It helped me when it came to a gamble.

Wolves relied heavily on scent and ego, which made them even easier to read at a table.

​My goals for the next seven days were crystal clear. I would keep attempting to reach out to Silas, find a way to condition these weak bones, sharpen my dulling senses, and hunt down a gambling den to take their money right in front of their eyes.

With the money I make from the gambling den, I could start focusing on tonics and nutrients for this body.

​Slowly, my eyelids began to grow heavy. I didn’t know if it was because my soul was still adjusting to this frail vessel, but my guard dropped completely. My limbs felt like lead, and before I could fight it, the heavy pull of sleep dragged me under.

​When my eyes snapped open, bright morning sunlight was already streaming through the window, accompanied by the faint chirping of birds outside.

​I sat up instantly, blinking in confusion.

​I had slept soundly. Completely soundly.

That had never happened a single time in my previous life. Was it really because this body was so physically weak, or was it because my instincts subconsciously knew there was no immediate threat coming to slit my throat in the dark?

​Either way, it was dangerous. Indulging in that level of comfort could get me killed. I had to sharpen my senses fast.

​I swung my legs off the bed and pulled my hair back into a messy bun. It was time to get down to the very first item on my schedule: physical training.

​I dropped to the floor, setting my palms flat against the cold wood. I would force these fragile muscles through push-ups and planks, pushing through the strain until the body adapted. It was crude, but until I awakened Silas and reclaimed my wolf, hard labor was the only weapon I had.