stood in Adrian Vale's way.
Not thorns.
Not tangled undergrowth.
Not the dense, interlocking mass of roots and branches that had choked this forest for decades.
He didn't slow.
He didn't detour.
He didn't navigate.
He crushed through.
Shrubs shattered underfoot, twisted branches snapping like brittle bone. Thorned vines tore apart as his armored body forced through them without resistance.
Trees—
thick enough for a grown man to wrap both arms around—
were simply… broken.
Wood splintered.
Trunks cracked.
Fragments exploded outward as entire trees were shouldered aside, collapsing in thunderous crashes behind him.
And then—
Impact.
A dull, heavy boom echoed through the forest.
The fleeing shadow—
never even had time to react.
Adrian hit it head-on.
There was no struggle.
No exchange.
No resistance.
Just—
force.
Overwhelming, absolute, indisputable force.
The creature's body collapsed instantly under the collision.
Flesh gave way like soaked paper.
Bone snapped without sound.
And then—
It exploded.
A burst of blood mist scattered into the air, fragments of flesh and fur flung outward in every direction.
Under the dying light of the setting sun—
It painted the forest red.
Yet—
Not a single drop touched Adrian.
The crimson cloak draped over his shoulders shimmered faintly.
A soft, almost imperceptible glow spread across its surface—
And everything—
Blood, gore, filth—
Was repelled.
Deflected.
Rejected.
His armor remained pristine.
Untouched.
Behind him—
Baren arrived just in time to witness it.
He stopped dead in his tracks.
His mouth opened slightly.
No words came out.
He had already seen glimpses of Adrian's strength.
Felt it.
Sensed it.
But seeing it—
Was different.
This wasn't strength.
This was annihilation.
Adrian straightened slowly.
His gaze dropped briefly to his armor.
Clean.
Untainted.
He gave a small nod.
Satisfied.
"…Good."
Bloodstains were troublesome.
Bad for maintenance.
Worse for appearance.
Magic—
was efficient.
Behind him, Baren finally snapped out of his shock and rushed forward, his expression lighting up with relief.
"It's dead!"
There was genuine excitement in his voice.
"We got it!"
Adrian smiled faintly.
The logic was simple.
Enemy eliminated.
Quest complete.
Next—
Recruitment.
Reward.
Everything—
should follow naturally.
But then—
He stopped.
The smile faded.
His brows furrowed.
Something was wrong.
The system—
did not respond.
No notification.
No confirmation.
Nothing.
"…Bug?"
Or—
Adrian's gaze lowered.
To the remains.
Scattered flesh.
Torn fur.
Broken pieces of what used to be a body.
He stepped forward.
Examined it.
Gray fur.
Wolf.
That made sense.
Werewolves—
had forms.
Human.
Wolf.
Nothing unusual.
Except—
"…Baren."
His voice was calm.
Flat.
"Do werewolves here have five legs?"
Baren blinked.
Caught off guard.
"…No."
He shook his head instinctively.
"I've never seen one with five legs."
Adrian nodded slightly.
Then narrowed his eyes.
"I see."
A pause.
Then—
"We've been played."
Silence.
Baren froze for a moment—
Then dropped to one knee beside the remains, quickly examining the pieces.
Four limbs.
Just four.
His expression changed.
"…Damn it."
The realization hit.
Earlier—
The werewolf had lost one of its forelimbs.
Which meant—
This—
Was not it.
Baren's jaw tightened.
"…If it only wanted to escape, it didn't need to do this…"
His voice grew heavier.
"…Unless…"
He stopped.
Then suddenly looked up.
Eyes widening.
"…Unless it wanted to lure us away."
The implication landed instantly.
His face drained.
"Not good."
"Bona… Brittany—"
"They're in danger!"
Adrian didn't respond immediately.
But his eyes—
Darkened.
Cunning.
Decisive.
Ruthless.
The creature wasn't just strong.
It could think.
"…Using strategy now."
He exhaled slowly.
"…Then it definitely needs to die."
There was no anger in his tone.
Only certainty.
"If it's alive—"
"I won't sleep well."
Night fell.
The last traces of sunlight disappeared beyond the horizon.
Darkness spread across the forest like ink.
Above—
A full moon rose.
Silver light poured down through the canopy.
Cold.
Clear.
Unforgiving.
And beneath it—
A massive gray wolf stood in the shadows.
Its body was enormous.
Muscles coiled beneath thick fur.
Its left foreleg—
Gone.
The wound was a mangled ruin of flesh and blood.
But under the moonlight—
Something changed.
The wolf lifted its head.
And inhaled.
Deep.
The moonlight seemed to respond.
It gathered.
Condensed.
Flowing into the creature like a silent tide.
Power.
Its wound began to shift.
Flesh moved.
Muscle twisted.
Healing.
Regenerating.
The torn edges closed.
New tissue formed.
Even bone—
Started to rebuild.
Slowly.
Relentlessly.
The creature's body trembled.
Then—
It rose.
Standing upright.
Its form twisted—
Bones reshaping, muscles expanding, fur receding and reforming—
Until—
A towering, one-armed werewolf stood beneath the moon.
Over two meters tall.
It resisted the urge to howl.
Barely.
Instead—
It sniffed the air.
With the moon's blessing, its senses sharpened beyond their limits.
Smell.
Sound.
Instinct.
Everything—
Expanded.
And then—
It found it.
A faint scent.
Its own severed limb.
Still lingering.
Still traceable.
A guide.
A path.
Leading—
Back.
To the witch's hidden dwelling.
The werewolf's lips curled.
That place—
Hidden by magic.
Protected.
Normally unreachable.
But now—
It had a key.
And the hunter—
And that monster in armor—
Had been led away.
The memory surfaced.
That human.
That force.
That impact.
Its body shuddered involuntarily.
Fear—
Pure.
Instinctive.
It crushed the thought immediately.
No revenge.
Not now.
Not ever.
That thing—
Was not prey.
It turned.
And moved.
Fast.
Through the forest.
Following the scent.
Straight—
To the cottage.
The illusion broke.
The hidden dwelling revealed itself.
A quiet yard.
A small wooden house.
Peaceful.
Unaware.
The werewolf's eyes darkened.
Two presences.
Two sources of magic.
The old one.
And—
Another.
Younger.
Weaker.
Perfect.
Consume them.
Absorb their power.
Recover.
Grow stronger.
Then—
Leave.
Far away.
Pray to the moon—
To never encounter that armored monster again.
It stepped forward silently.
Approaching.
Almost—
Effortlessly.
Until—
A bark.
Sharp.
Explosive.
The hunting dog.
The one left behind.
It had sensed the danger.
And reacted instantly.
The sound shattered the silence.
Inside the house—
The old woman's eyes snapped open.
Alert.
Aware.
The werewolf's expression twisted.
Annoyance.
"…Damn it."
Stealth—
Gone.
It moved.
Fast.
A single kick—
CRACK.
The loyal hound didn't even have time to whimper.
Its body crumpled.
Still.
Dead.
No more hiding.
The werewolf surged forward.
Toward the house.
At the same time—
The door burst open.
The old woman stepped out.
Staff in hand.
Her voice rang out.
Sharp.
Commanding.
Magic answered.
The air trembled.
A transparent barrier rose instantly around the yard—
Forming a protective dome.
The werewolf slammed into it—
And was stopped.
Blocked.
It snarled.
The old woman didn't stop.
Her staff struck the ground.
The earth beneath the werewolf—
Shuddered.
Then—
Exploded upward.
Thick, massive thorned vines burst from the soil—
Twisting—
Coiling—
Wrapping around the werewolf's body with violent force.
Binding it.
Restraining it completely.