Chapter 73 : The Desperate Werewolf
Chapter 73: The Desperate Werewolf
Graymane · Splitfang, a lower-ranked werewolf of the Splitfang Clan.
Not long ago, he received a mission from the clan leader to assist a necromancer who had a pact with the clan, along with several other lower-ranked werewolves.
The task was simple: enter human territory at night, scatter some stones, and kill a few beasts.
Graymane was somewhat reluctant; he preferred missions involving killing humans.
However, as a lower-ranked werewolf, his life contract was controlled by the clan leader from birth, and the leader had even torn off his fur to create a pact for those necromancers.
The suppression from the superior bloodline's origin left him unable to resist.
Therefore, he could only come to this territory to work.
One night, while digging in the cemetery, he discovered two people very close to him—so close that he could kill them in the blink of an eye.
But the pact warned him not to do anything unnecessary.
So he could only hide unwillingly.
Surviving by eating beasts for a few days, news finally came from the necromancers.
They were going to mobilize the corpses in his area to launch an attack.
And after tonight, they could return to the clan.
So, once the corpses started moving, he moved as well.
He had been eyeing the people in that small church for a long time, so he sneaked over.
It was just killing two civilians; he thought it wouldn't take much time.
However, upon approaching, he realized this was no church—it was clearly a small fortress sealed shut, with only a few finger-thick holes for ventilation.
He became furious, frantically clawing at the wooden door, believing that with a bit more time, he could break it open.
But there was no extra time for him.
The necromancer tormented him through the pact, urging him to leave quickly.
Graymane had to give up unwillingly.
But now, the clan leader assigned him a mission to go to a place and kill people.
Purely to kill.
And that place was very familiar to Graymane.
So he brought three lower-ranked werewolves and sneaked over again.
He didn't dare to assault the village.
There were only four of them; if they were discovered attacking the village, he couldn't imagine the consequences.
Although human hunters were not as strong as werewolves, they were still troublesome.
So he thought of the isolated small fortress he had seen while working before.
Cunning humans, cowardly humans, this time I, Graymane, will definitely kill you and dig out your hearts.
Graymane let out an excited low growl, craving bloodshed.
The other three lower-ranked werewolves running silently in the night with him were also stirred, panting and exhaling foul-smelling breaths.
They had been suppressed by humans for too long—so long that the entire Splitfang Clan had to hide in the Northern Wind Mountains, not daring to appear easily, let alone kill at will.
Those human lords were too terrifying, so much so that their clan leader didn't dare to lead them across noble territories to Blackrock Point.
If any human lord caught them, they would skin them to make leather armor, behead them for decoration, and extract their bones to make werewolf bone powder.
In short, since Graymane was born, he had been indoctrinated by the elders in the clan about the horrors of human lords.
And now, they knew that the lord of this territory was not present.
Only those weak civilians remained.
Getting closer, Graymane could already see the place.
However, in his sight, besides the small fortress, there was also a large stone building and scattered small houses.
He became alert and somewhat hesitant.
Such a large stone building—even he understood that ordinary humans couldn't reside there.
Moreover, how much time had passed since he last came here?
Yet, as he stopped to hesitate, the panting of the three werewolves behind him grew heavier.
Graymane looked back; in the darkness, their eyes were glowing red.
These inferior lower-ranked werewolves.
Graymane secretly mocked in his heart.
Although they were all lower-ranked werewolves, these three were merely transformed from captured human villagers, struggling even to stay conscious.
But he, Graymane, was born from reproduction—a pure werewolf.
Although his parents were also inferior werewolves like them, he had been promised that after completing this mission, he would be given the bloodline of a higher-ranked werewolf, allowing him to become one as well.
So, looking at them, Graymane always felt a sense of superiority.
However, he glanced at the large building and shook his head, signaling the three to go check it out first.
Receiving the signal, the three werewolves no longer suppressed themselves, excitedly growling as they charged in.
Waiting, waiting, and then no movement at all.
Graymane suddenly trembled, a tuft of gray fur falling from his neck.
He suddenly felt afraid.
He hunched his body, emitting a suppressed low growl from his throat, his eyes gradually filling with bloodlust, and his breath exuded a strong bloody smell, saliva dripping from his lower jaw.
A wave spread out, and blurry shadows began to appear in his vision.
[Hunting Instinct], a werewolf ability, but only higher-ranked werewolves could use it freely, and he was still just a lower-ranked werewolf, using it once would drain most of his strength.
This was disadvantageous for the possible battle ahead.
But he felt fear.
He didn't dare to flee directly.
The punishment for fleeing was far more painful than death.
At least, after obtaining useful information, he would have a reason to return to the clan.
However, the moment the hunting instinct spread out, he discovered human presence—and these humans were right behind him!
His blood-red pupils widened suddenly, and then several spears were thrown, piercing his body and pinning him to the ground.
"Awooo~"
Graymane let out a shrill scream.
Having just used the hunting instinct, his body hadn't yet adapted to the weakness, so he couldn't dodge.
Moreover, although these spears were wooden, they emitted a faint glow, and he felt as if he were being pierced by burning hot weapons.
He wanted to pull out the spears, but the wooden spears were too hot for his claws to grip.
He tried to push himself up from the ground, but several more spears thrown at him left him in complete despair.
He reached out to tear at his own heart; he didn't dare to be captured by humans.
Skinned, beheaded, bones extracted—he was terrified.
However, he didn't even have the chance to kill himself.
A man with a face full of scars and markings rushed over, holding a hand axe.
Graymane saw hatred in the man's eyes, then he raised the axe and struck down heavily.
"Awooo~"
Graymane howled in pain as his hand was chopped off.
Screaming and struggling, flames ignited.
It was torches.
A group of people surrounded him with torches; most held faintly glowing wooden spears, and only two held thick books.
"So this is a werewolf." Corleon looked at the werewolf pinned to the ground, missing both claws, and screaming in pain.
"Yes, and it's a lower-ranked werewolf. To draw an analogy, you can consider him equivalent to a human warrior," Nyx said.
"As for the three inside, they're equivalent to slaves."
After resting for a night and a day, he was now much more refreshed.
"What defines a dark creature?" Corleon could see the fear in the werewolf's eyes, clearly possessing intelligence not inferior to humans.
"There are three concepts. In the eyes of most scholars, beings born with mysterious powers and possessing intelligence are dark creatures," Nyx said.
"In the eyes of a minority of scholars and most humans, those who compete with humans for living space are dark creatures."
"In the eyes of mages, anything that can be used as spellcasting material is a dark creature. If necessary, they would even consider some humans as dark creatures."
"Then, Priest Nyx, what about you?" Corleon asked.
"I'm one of those minority scholars," Nyx replied.
Corleon nodded and instructed the warriors to knock out the werewolf's teeth.
"How did the bishop know they would attack the church?" Nyx asked.
"That was naturally the Lord's revelation to me." Corleon held the cross on his chest.