Chapter 118 : Wolf God’s Crown
Chapter 118: Wolf God’s Crown
The surging gray mist suddenly came to a halt.
The Wolf God felt as if his spirit had been bound by twenty-six chains, which then began to tear at his soul.
The Wolf God let out a miserable scream.
"A priest? How could there still be a priest? Clearly, when I was born, all those werewolf priests had already been killed!"
"A dumb dog."Ymir scolded with satisfaction, then closed his eyes, no longer paying attention to the Wolf God’s roar.
He voluntarily accepted the gray mist and the power surging from the earth vein.
Meanwhile, the Wolf God continued cursing, interspersed with screams as his soul was torn apart.
"Ymir, I am the Wolf God! I cannot die! Just wait—when I return, you and your tribe will pay the price!"That was the Wolf God’s final roar of fury.
Ymir paid no heed, only opened his eyes after absorbing all the gray mist.
They were now brown, vertical beast pupils.
He stood up; the statue had completely stopped moving.
"Heh, Wolf God."Ymir grinned, then with a single claw, shattered the statue.
Crash! The upper half of the statue scattered across the ground. On the remaining half of the standing figure, there lay a crown formed from sharp fangs. Taking it in both hands, Ymir placed it upon his head, like a king donning his crown.
The vertical beast pupils contracted slightly, and Ymir let out a hearty laugh.
"So this is the power of the Wolf God? Such strength—yet you, a dumb dog, dare call yourself a god?"
"Now, I am the Wolf God!"
That very night, the werewolves established a kingdom of their own—
Within a deep, shadowy underground cavern.
A blind, hunchbacked werewolf opened his mouth to utter a few words. After confirming success, he collapsed to the ground and lost his life.
"Haha, it looks like it worked! The great King Ymir, king of werewolves!"Behind him, a standing werewolf howled with excitement.
The sound echoed throughout the cavern.
Suddenly, his howl ceased. Then, in a very clumsy human tongue, he said:
"Come—out—human—followed me—for so long—"He twitched his nose, staring in one direction—where a raised pile of stones lay.
No movement.
"Heh heh."He let out a low laugh, then abruptly grabbed the corpse of the dead werewolf priest and hurled it in that direction.
The strength of an upper-ranked werewolf smashed the stones to pieces with the priest’s body.
Flesh and rock splattered together, and from within, a short spear was thrown.
The werewolf simply raised his hand and caught the spear.
"…Just this much—"He hadn’t even finished speaking when he suddenly felt a burning sensation in his hand.
"Hmm?"He looked over. It clearly appeared to be a very ordinary oak short spear, but it felt like holding a red-hot iron rod—his fur had been scorched.
"Human—tell me—what is this power—"he asked.
But the only reply he received were two more short spears hurled toward him.
He no longer tried to catch them. Dodging while simultaneously charging toward the human’s hiding place, he tossed the long spear he had been holding onto the ground.
"Don’t think—of escaping—human—"In a few bounds, he moved like a shadow in the depths of the cave.
"If I didn’t kill you, I would never run."What greeted him was a loud shout and a hand axe smashing down.
"Heh———human———"The werewolf sneered. In his eyes, the human’s movements were far too slow. Without dodging, he simply struck with one claw.
Blood sprayed. The hand axe was knocked away by that powerful force. The human’s forearm bore two extremely deep wounds—muscles and veins torn, bone clearly visible.
"Two more—are there—"The werewolf twitched his nose and awkwardly said,"They’ve—already fled—”
"They abandoned you—you alone—will still resist———"
"Temple Warriors do not run from Dark Creatures."The one who was stopped responded, his face covered in fierce scars and markings.
It was Hode.
His right hand hung limp, unable to exert any strength. He could only use his left hand to hold a shield across his chest.
"Then—it was you who chose to stay behind so they could escape?"The werewolf bared his fangs in a grin.
"Very good—·very courageous—you, such a human—are worthy as a gift—to be offered to the Wolf King—"
York Territory, the manor of the Morgan Family.
The Morgan Family had an active knight, but that knight had taken his squire and warriors belonging to knights to follow the lord into battle. Their family was among the first to move out of the village, aside from the Newman Family of Knight Wolf.
After all, they were a family of an active knight. Even after the knight had left, many members of the family stayed behind. In this short period, their new manor had already been completed.
At this moment, the manor was brightly lit by candlelight.
At a long table, only two people sat facing each other, while the main seat remained empty.
"Brother Marl, the Church being willing to help us clear out those bandits is certainly a benevolent act,"said the Morgan Family’s head, Clement Morgan.
He had once been a squire with the opportunity to become a knight, but Sir Helvin only conferred knighthood to those who had passed their prime.
He simply couldn’t endure the years anymore.
The family needed a head, so he had set aside his armor and donned well-crafted clothes. His once sturdy body had now grown somewhat fat.
Fortunately, the territory had gained a new lord, and his eldest son had fulfilled his long-cherished wish and become a knight.
That was his pride.
Yet, not long ago, he somewhat regretted his son becoming a knight and joining the lord's expedition.
Otherwise, with his family's strength intact and a knight present, even Wolf wouldn't dare go too far.
Of course, now he felt rather fortunate that his son was away.
That fellow Wolf had gone insane.
And the more insane he became, the stronger he was.
This realization came to them only after Wolf slaughtered several families.
Clement even feared that, had his son been around, he might have been butchered by that madman Wolf.
"However, as you are aware, it hasn’t been very peaceful recently, so the Morgan Family's food reserves aren’t very abundant,"Clement Morgan said.
"Are you saying you’re unwilling to sell us grain?"Across from Clement, Marl stirred the food in his large bowl.
It was a bowl as big as a pot, filled with stewed ingredients. The soup had a grayish hue. Though the meat and vegetables fished out weren’t particularly unpleasant, the color alone made Marl feel full just looking at it.
Marl would rather gnaw on bread.
People in the Monastery were now all researching how to make gourmet food. Compared to what they had developed, Marl truly couldn’t bear to look at what was in this pot.
"No no no, this is an act that benefits the entire York Territory. How could I not support it?"Clement quickly said.
He knew Marl. Or rather, none of the local gentry in York Town were unaware of him.
Yara, before her death, had even specially described Marl to them.
Most Church members were benevolent, but a few among them had more complex thoughts, and Marl was the one who harbored the greatest malice toward them.
Moreover, he would stop at nothing. If given the chance, he wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice some people to annihilate them.
Even if that unlucky woman Yara had become a sacrificial display of the Church’s power, they still believed in her abilities.
So when Marl came knocking, Clement’s nerves instantly tensed.
Naturally so.
Anyone would be on edge if 180 fully-armed warriors were stationed at their doorstep, and the leader among them carried hostile intentions.