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I am the guy that everybody hates. An unwanted, filthy and needless existence that nobody gives a fuck about. The black sheep or rather black wolf of the pack. A product of shame and disgrace. I am Poseidon and this is my story.

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My name is Poseidon. And no. I’m not the mighty Greek God of the ocean. Although there was a time when I really wished I was because I have no doubt living the life of a divine being. Revered, feared and served by others would be way much better than my shitty and crappy life right now. If this can even be considered as a life. But unfortunately, that’s not the case.


OK. Let me reintroduce myself. Hi, my name is Poseidon. And I’m just a filthy abomination. A huge mistake. An outcast. A living taboo. A product of a brutal crime. Rape. The stain and shame of my royal bloodline.

And just the mere sight of me grieved souls and fuelled hearts with rage. I am a fucking eyesore I tell you. A filthy, low life rubbish whose existence is even lower than that of a cockroach.

What? You don’t believe me?

Well, all the members of the pack to which I’m associated with. Whether it be royals, nobles or even those of low social status. Adults or children. They can all attest to everything that I’ve just said. After all, they never let me forget that. Ever.

Hell, my own mother hated me so much. She committed suicide just a few hours after my birth. The woman could no longer bear to live with the shame of being tainted by my father, whom I do not know anything about up until this day. Giving birth to the spawn of that wretched man. Me. Made her sick to her stomach.

She also couldn’t stand the ridicule from the people she held dearly. Being shunned by family members and friends. Even her fiancé, her mate. A nobleman from another prominent pack. The man she loved from her teenage years and claimed he loved her just the same. Annulled their marriage agreement because of me. The tragedy that befell her. At least, that’s what I was told.

Man, I ruined. No fucked up my own mother’s life and forced her to kill her self. I’ve sullied the reputation of our royal family. The prideful, high and mighty Silver Sky pack. One of the top ten powerhouses Lycan packs in the Northern Region of the Lacan Continent.

So I’m sure now you can understand why everyone hates my guts.

And to be honest, all my childhood years I felt awful about everything. The unfair ill-treatments, being scorned and tortured. The verbal, emotional and physical abuses. All that unwanted hatred directed at me for no reasons of my own.

Numerous times I questioned why the hell all of this is happening to me? I mean I know why? But why? Fucking why?

What wrongs or crimes have I committed to deserve this wickedness, this cruelty?

I am innocent to all this, and yet I was still being severely punished.

KMT. What’s the fucking point of living anyway if nobody loves me, nobody wants me? Why was I even fucking born? Damn, I should have just died at birth. I never should have been conceived in the first place.

God, I hated myself so bad. To the point where I tried to kill my self once. At the age of thirteen to be exact. I managed to convince myself at the time that if I’m gone then everyone would be happy. That the pain will go away. And that’s all I wanted. To be done with this fucked up life.

However, my grandfather, the mighty alpha of the Silver Sky pack. One of the ten strongest and the oldest alpha in existence. Surprisingly, stopped me from going through with it. Gave me a proper beat down and scolding too for attempting to do something so foolish.

Encouraged me even to stay strong. To endure this hardship called life. Live until I find my purpose for living. That even I, an outcast, must have some importance in this world.

That was probably difficult for him to do and say. I mean the man has been ignoring my existence for so long. So no doubt he holds some resentment towards me like everybody else. He could barely even look at me because my existence probably. No. It did remind him of the tragedy that happen to his beloved daughter. My mother. And that’s very understandable. I guess.

Anyway, I didn’t really believe his words about me having a purpose at the time. And to be honest, I still don’t. However, I did feel grateful. After all, the man saved me from making a horrible mistake.

And at least someone was somewhat looking out for me. Someone tried giving a damn about me for however short it was. So I got emotional. And yes, I cried like a baby that time. All the tears and pain that I’ve been holding in. I just let it all out. And for the first and last time, grandfather hugged me to comfort me.

From that day on, no one dared to openly ridicule or mocked me again like they used to. Everyone stayed far away from me as if I was a disease. Which I don’t really mind any more.

And when those from the royal or noble families tried to have me secretly harm, whether by assassination or whatever evil means their wicked brains can think up. Grandfather would send his agents to protect me every time.

Now looking back. Thinking about everything. It starts making sense. He’s been protecting me all along from these wretched royals and nobles, despite keeping his distance. I mean, how else would I, an abominable child would still be alive up till this day in a pack with people who despised my existence with all their fibres?

And of course, they. The royals and nobles hated this. And because of me, the conflict between them and grandfather has worsened. But no one dared to outright go against him. Unless they wished to die.

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