Wandering Witch: Penance of a thief

In a hidden corner amidst the lush foliage, lies a village glittering with lights, yet still embracing the tranquility of nature.

In the distance, the gleam of the morning sun welcomes the villagers busy with their daily routines.

Neatly lined houses scatter among winding roads that invite adventures.

On the other side, the endless forest embraces the village with the roaring whispers of the wind and hidden secrets.

It was midday when I arrived at a fairly large village nestled deep in the forest. As soon as I set foot in the village, I felt the weight of many eyes on me, their gazes filled with suspicion.

"What's with these people? Are they amazed by my good looks? If so, just say it," I muttered under my breath.

Ignoring the stares, I wandered through the village, searching for an inn where I could rest. Soon, I found a place with an 'Inn' sign swinging gently in the breeze.

As I approached the counter to rent a room, the receptionist looked at me with a peculiar intensity. "May I have your blood?" he asked, his voice unsettlingly calm.

"No," I replied, bewildered. The people here were clearly strange.

"If you don't give your blood, you can't stay here," the receptionist insisted, his expression unchanging.

"Is blood currency in this village?" I asked sarcastically.

"No, but if you give your blood, you don't have to pay, wanderer."

The idea of a free room was tempting. With a resigned sigh, I drew my dagger and made a small cut on my hand, letting a few drops of blood fall into a small plastic bag the receptionist held out.

"Here it is," I said, handing it over.

He sealed the bag with an odd satisfaction. "You have a fetish for blood?"

"Not really," he replied, "I just want to confirm something."

"'Not really' means you do, right?" I snapped, regretting my decision.

I shook my head, feeling a pang of regret. I headed to my room and began to arrange my belongings.

"What's wrong with the people in this village?" I wondered aloud.

Just as I finished unpacking, my stomach growled, reminding me that I needed to find food if I wanted to survive. But as I left the room, a nagging thought lingered-what did the receptionist mean by 'confirm something'? And why did this village seem so eerily obsessed with blood?

I left the inn and went to the market, I went to the butcher shop

"Hey, old man! I want to buy goat meat!"

"Sorry, young man. But I don't have any mutton."

"Eh? That's a shame. How about lamb then?"

"I don't have that either."

"Huh? Chicken meat?"

"Don't have that either."

"Then why did you open a shop if you don't have any meat to sell?" I protested.

"Lately, my livestock have disappeared somewhere-goats, sheep, chickens, all gone," the man explained, his voice heavy with frustration.

He continued, saying that every morning he found his livestock pens empty.

"Did someone steal them?" I asked, intrigued.

"Yes! And the thief is a werewolf!" he exclaimed.

I was taken aback. I had read about werewolves but never believed they were real. "Werewolves?"

"Yes, residents in this village said they saw a wolf standing on two legs like a normal human. There was blood on its mouth, and when one of the residents approached, it ran away."

"A cowardly werewolf?" I mused, finding the idea odd.

If there were werewolves, they should attack or even kill the residents to eliminate witnesses. Werewolves are supposed to be very strong, and fighting villagers should be easy. Why would this one run away? Did it not want to hurt people?

Different possibilities ran through my mind. "Oh, I see."

Helping this village might count as atonement for my past sins, so I decided to investigate. "Don't worry, sir! I will find out who this werewolf really is."

"I am Arche, the sin redeemer!" I declared, striking a pose I thought looked cool.

"Is that so? Thank you if you want to help," the man said, bowing slightly. "Oh yes, my name is Lycaon."

"Can I see your livestock pen?" He nodded and tell me the way. Behind his house were several pens, but only a few animals remained. I could count them on one hand.

As I investigated, I noticed something alarming-large claw marks on the ground. "So it's really the werewolf's doing, huh?"

Suddenly, I felt a sharp point at my back. I turned to see a kid holding a pitchfork, eyes filled with suspicion.

"Who are you?" the kid demanded.

I raised my hands in surrender. "I came here to investigate. Mr. Lycaon said his livestock disappeared, and he suspects a werewolf is behind it."

The kid's gaze didn't waver. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"I'm here to help," I assured, hoping to ease his suspicion. "Let's work together to find out what's really happening in this village."

"I just came here to check," I explained.

"Dad told you?" The kid lowered the pitchfork, suspicion evident.

"So he's your father, huh?" I took a deep breath.

"By the way, my name is Arche, the sin redeemer."

"Sin redeemer? You're a former criminal? No wonder I suspect you," he retorted.

"Yes... but I strive to be a good person! I want to solve this problem to atone for my sins," I explained earnestly.

"Oh, is that so? My name is Lykos," he introduced himself.

"Lykos? A fitting name," I replied.

"Yeah... but it seems like you don't need to get involved," he said sarcastically.

"Why?" I inquired, puzzled by his sudden change in demeanor.

He handed me a letter containing the known identity of the werewolf-Gilles.

"Eh? Then why did I come here?" I exclaimed.

"Damn it!" Frustration surged within me.

"I never thought that adults would exhibit childish traits like you," he remarked.

"Shut up! Everyone will be upset!" I snapped.

"Instead of complaining like a child, you should witness this execution," Lykos suggested.

"Are you going to watch it too?" I asked.

He glanced away. "No... I need to stay here and look after the remaining livestock."

"Too bad," I muttered.

With a swift motion, I soared away on my broomstick.

In the heart of the city, a man with slightly unkempt hair stood amidst a throng of people, their faces a mix of annoyance and vindication.

I edged closer to catch a glimpse of the accused.

"The citizens I love! He's the werewolf who's plagued us all! Livestock and children vanished because of him!" declared the torchbearer, evidently the village elder.

"Confess your sins, you damn werewolf!" The accused's voice wavered as he spoke.

"I made a pact with the devil. He promised me riches, but the devil deceived me," he confessed, his words barely audible over the clamor of the crowd.

"A pact with the devil, huh...?" The elder's tone dripped with disdain.

"What are you waiting for?! Burn him now!" A resident's impatience echoed through the crowd, fueling the frenzy.

Without hesitation, the pyre was ignited, engulfing the accused in flames. Cheers mingled with shouts of condemnation as the crowd watched the spectacle unfold.

As the smoke billowed skyward, a sense of relief washed over me. The troublemaker had met his end, yet beneath that relief simmered a growing discontent.

"I expected something more... thrilling," I muttered to myself, lingering on the fringes of the dispersing crowd.

With a heavy heart, I turned away, seeking solace in the tranquil act of fishing

The werewolf's behavior puzzled me-running away when seen by humans, yet admitting to being a werewolf. It seemed too cowardly for a creature rumored to be intelligent. As I pondered, doubts clouded my mind.

"Have I been a criminal for so long that I can't think like a good person anymore?" I wondered aloud, grappling with conflicting thoughts.

Perhaps the werewolf's reluctance to harm others stemmed from kindness, choosing to confess to prevent further chaos. But then, his admission of striking a deal with the Devil for riches painted a different picture.

It didn't align with the actions of a good-hearted individual.

Putting away my fishing rod, I headed to the center of town, determined to uncover the truth. Asking around, I learned of Gilles' house near the forest by the river. With broomstick in hand, I navigated through the dense forest until I stumbled upon a clay house-a sign confirmed it was Gilles' abode.

Entering the disheveled house, I noticed a peculiar magic circle. It was haphazardly drawn, unlike the intricate ones I had seen before.

"Even kindergarten children could do better," I muttered, noting its crude design.

Exiting the house, I observed scratch marks on the walls. They seemed deliberate, as if intentionally made to prevent collapse. But they lacked the depth and chaos expected from a werewolf's frenzy.

Considering the werewolf's size, these marks didn't match the ferocity one would expect. Doubt gnawed at me-were these scratches fabricated to deceive?

I mulled over the implications. If Gilles wasn't the culprit, then who-or what-was responsible for the disappearances? My quest for answers intensified as I delved deeper into the mystery shrouding the village.

As I surveyed Gilles' house, an unsettling realization dawned upon me-it remained unscathed. Despite the chaos that had ensued, the structure stood intact, with only a few pieces of furniture bearing the brunt of destruction.

It was as if time had frozen, the sun hovering just above the horizon, casting long shadows that stretched across the room.

"There's something amiss here," I murmured, my thoughts swirling like the encroaching darkness.

Seeking solace in knowledge, I retreated to the confines of the library, where ancient tomes whispered tales of myths and monsters.

Amidst the dusty shelves, I unearthed a tome that chronicled the lore of werewolves-their origins, their nocturnal prowling under the moon's watchful gaze.

"Ah, splendid!" I exclaimed, tracing my finger along the yellowed pages. "Tonight, under the moon's luminous embrace, the hunt shall begin."

As dusk descended, I sought refuge in a quaint cafe, where the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the chatter of patrons.

Ordering a humble serving of fried rice, I awaited the impending nightfall with bated breath.

Suddenly, a familiar voice shattered the tranquility of the evening.

"Arche," it whispered, a solemn undertone echoing through the bustling cafe.

Turning, I beheld Lycaon, the stoic butcher from days past, bearing a plate of succulent grilled fish.

"Ah, Lycaon, joining me for a feast, I see?" I greeted him warmly, though a pang of regret gnawed at me as I glanced at my humble meal.

"Arche, there's something I must confide in you," Lycaon began, his gaze heavy with concern.

Pausing mid-bite, I leaned in, captivated by the gravity of his words.

"It's about my son," he continued, his voice tinged with apprehension. "He's been keeping secrets from me, Arche."

"Secrets, you say? Ah, the mysteries of youth," I remarked casually, though inwardly intrigued by the unfolding drama.

"But this is no ordinary secret," Lycaon persisted, his tone grave.

"Last night, I discovered his absence from his chamber. Fear gripped my heart-I feared he had fallen prey to the very beast that haunts our village."

A chill ran down my spine as I contemplated the implications of Lycaon's revelation.

"And yet, come morning, he returned unscathed, nestled in the comfort of his bed," I murmured, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place.

He launched into a tale of his son's peculiar antics, unprompted by my curiosity.

"Weren't you curious where he'd gone?" I inquired between bites of warm fried rice, my appetite undeterred by the unfolding drama.

"I did inquire, and he claimed he'd been captivated by fireflies until sleep overtook him."

"But I sensed the falsehood in his words," he lamented, his gaze distant as he recounted the unsettling revelation, his untouched grilled fish a testament to his troubled mind.

"And how did you discern his deceit?" I inquired, my eyes lingering on the abandoned feast before us.

"By the way... would you mind if I partook of your grilled fish?" I added with a sly grin.

With a resigned sigh, he acquiesced, offering me a succulent portion of fish as we delved deeper into his plight.

"Parents possess an uncanny knack for detecting their children's fibs," he revealed, his words heavy with the weight of experience.

"Since my wife's passing, Lykos has grown increasingly withdrawn and apprehensive,"

he confided, his grief palpable in his every word.

"He trembles at the mere mention of his mother, consumed by a fear I cannot assuage."

"And what course of action do you propose?" he implored, his frustration spilling forth in a forceful gesture that rattled the table.

"Ah, family troubles... not exactly my forte, old chap," I confessed, my mouth still full of savory fish.

"I've scarcely exchanged words with my own parents in an age."

"Is it due to your wandering ways?" he queried, his eyes boring into mine with an intensity that brooked no room for jest.

"No... there are other reasons," I replied cryptically, pausing to offer a morsel of advice.

"You must grant him time to heal from his mother's loss. Pressing him incessantly will only breed resentment."

"And if you..." I continued, my words trailing off as I caught sight of his earnest gaze, devoid of my usual whimsy.

"Remain steadfast and await the opportune moment to broach the subject," I concluded, the gravity of the situation demanding a departure from my usual levity.

He fell silent, mulling over my words as I resumed my meal, granting him the solitude to contemplate his next move.

"This grilled fish truly is exquisite... paired with the fried rice, it's a culinary delight," I remarked, attempting to lighten the mood.

In an instant, he sprang to his feet, my name echoing through the cafe as he expressed his gratitude in a fervent outburst.

"You're right! Thank you, Arche! Your guidance is invaluable!" he exclaimed, his eyes alight with newfound determination.

"Even if you only give me advice like this, it is included in atone for your sins, you know," he declared, prompting me to rise in kind, swept up in the fervor of his gratitude.

"Truly? Splendid! Do not hesitate to call upon me should you require further aid!"

"Agreed, my friend!" With a firm handshake, we sealed our pact, unaware of the curious gazes that now bore witness to our camaraderie.

As Lycaon divulged the location where his son claimed to have fallen asleep, a realization struck me like a bolt of lightning- it was near the river in the forest, perilously close to Gilles' abode, the self-proclaimed werewolf.

Could it be...?

"Is everything alright, Arche?" Lycaon's concerned voice snapped me out of my reverie, diverting my attention from the unsettling revelation.

"Oh, it's nothing. By the way, aren't you going to finish your meal?" I deflected, eager to dispel the tension that hung between us.

With a dismissive wave, Lycaon offered me his untouched plate, to which I eagerly obliged, masking my inner turmoil with a facade of normalcy.

"Ah, thank you, Father!" I exclaimed absentmindedly, only to be met with a gentle reminder from Lycaon.

"I'm not your father, you know..." he chuckled, his expression softened by a hint of amusement.

As Lycaon bid farewell and exited the humble cafe, I mulled over the enigmatic connection between Lykos and the alleged werewolf.

Could Lykos possess the stealth of a predator, silently prowling through the shadows?

Ah, but such abilities belonged to cats, not men...

Determined to uncover the truth, I devoured both my meal and Lycaon's, leaving the cafe under the cloak of darkness.

Donning a black robe and concealing my identity with a hood, I embarked on a clandestine mission to Lycaon and Lykos' residence.

Perched upon the roof, I bided my time, my senses attuned to the slightest disturbance.

Hours passed, and exhaustion threatened to claim me as I lay in wait.

Yet, as the night wore on, a heavy slumber overtook me, the weight of uncertainty lulling me into a restless sleep as I awaited Lykos' emergence from the confines of his home.

As I opened my eyes, I found myself transported to a crimson realm, its fiery glow searing into my consciousness.

"Where am I?" I questioned, the intensity of the red hue causing a dull ache behind my eyes.

Amidst the inferno, I discerned the flickering flames casting an eerie illumination upon the scene-Lycaon and Lykos, engulfed in a relentless blaze, their forms writhing in agony as the searing heat threatened to consume them whole.

The air hung heavy with despair as I stood frozen, unable to approach the inferno for fear of being engulfed by its fiery tendrils.

Lycaon's form reduced to skeletal remains, while Lykos endured the torment of his perpetual suffering, his anguished cries lost amidst the crackling flames.

A sense of helplessness washed over me as I bore witness to their torment, my heart heavy with the burden of my inability to intervene.

With a resigned sigh, I began to retreat, the searing heat of the flames searing into my consciousness.

"Tsk..." I muttered, my steps faltering as I backed away, the futility of my efforts weighing heavily upon me.

Suddenly, a jolt shook me from my reverie, and I found myself awakening upon the rooftop, the vivid imagery of my dream still fresh in my mind.

With a start, I realized the moon hung high overhead, its silvery glow illuminating the night sky.

Confusion clouded my thoughts as I grappled with the remnants of my dream, the urgency of my mission momentarily forgotten amidst the surreal landscape of my subconscious.

"Ah!" I exclaimed, a surge of realization flooding through me as I remembered my purpose.

Without hesitation, I descended from the rooftop

As I hastened towards the river in the forest, my mind still reeling from the enigmatic visions of my dream, I espied an open window in one of the nearby bedrooms.

Without hesitation, I sprinted towards the riverbank, each step propelling me closer to the elusive truth.

Lost in contemplation, I pondered the cryptic message hidden within the depths of my subconscious.

The significance of my previous dream eluded me, its haunting imagery leaving an indelible impression upon my psyche.

Emerging from the dense foliage, I beheld a sight that gave me pause-a majestic wolf, its form towering above me, seated regally by the river's edge.



With keen eyes, it regarded me with a gaze that seemed to pierce through the veil of my thoughts, its silent contemplation a testament to the wisdom that lay within.

Before I could gather my wits, the wolf turned and fled, vanishing into the shadows of the forest.

"Don't flee, coward!" I called out, my words ringing out into the night, though the elusive creature showed no sign of returning.

Undeterred, I sought to provoke a response, my taunts echoing through the silence of the forest.

"No one cares for a coward like you!" I jeered, each word laced with disdain as I sought to goad the elusive creature into revealing itself from its hiding place.

"Who's afraid of wolves? Certainly not me, I've never been afraid of my own foot odor, let alone forest creatures!" I proclaim with false bravado, though my heart races with anxiety.

Suddenly, from behind the bushes, emerges a large, menacing wolf.

"Well, well, look who's here, the wolf ready for a showdown!" I mutter, trying to reassure myself with a faux-cool attitude. Without hesitation, I launch into attack, employing my go-to grappling techniques.

"He's got teeth, but I've got joint locks, okay, two joint locks!"

I quip foolishly, while attempting to control the wild wolf's movements.

"Wow, you stink, buddy, take a bath before picking fights!" I taunt while deftly dodging his rough blows.

The wolf is stubborn, relying more on brawn than brain. He keeps swinging relentlessly, but luckily, none of his blows land.

"Hey, wolf, you're like my silly friend, but at least he's got a brain!" I jest while keeping my distance and dodging his attacks.

As the battle heats up, I never lose my sense of humor.

"Alright, here it comes, a special move just for you, wolf! I call this one the 'Hilarious Leap'!" I shout as I swiftly jump to the side, leaving him momentarily confused.

As the battle intensifies, the wolf becomes more aggressive, its movements faster, making it difficult for me to keep up

I'm tossed around helplessly, powerless against its relentless onslaught.

"Wow, this wolf grew some teeth, huh! Hold on a sec, not too fast, I'm not ready to be wolf food yet!" I quip with a funny tone, even as my body continues to be thrown to the ground.

Despite being pressed, I refuse to give up. With a still burning spirit, I try to cheer myself up with silly jokes.

"You, wolf, are faster than a massage therapist!" I joke as I try to rise again, even though the attacks leave me increasingly exhausted.

However, unfortunately, I can't land a single blow, not even a touch.

"Hey, wolf, I just want a hug!" I jest as I try to dodge its increasingly deadly attacks. My body starts to feel heavy and weak, but I persist with all the strength I have.

Finally, after a fierce battle, I lie defeated on the ground, overwhelmed by the unstoppable force of the wolf.

"Hey, wolf, don't forget to bring a souvenir when I wake up, okay! I like barbecue!" I say with a joking tone.

After lying down for a moment, I rose again with a sly smile, though my body was prepared for a more serious bout.

With firm steps, I approached the wild wolf, ready to retaliate its attacks with previously unseen strength and aggression.

My hands and feet sprung into action. I launched brutal strikes with my right and left hands alternately, relentlessly attacking the wolf's body.

My right hand darted with lightning speed, delivering a flurry of punches to the wolf's face and body, while my left hand moved swiftly to launch continuous attacks to its sides.

"Hey, wolf! How's your dental health? Because it looks like you'll need a dentist after this!" I quipped while continuing my onslaught.

I didn't forget to utilize the power of my legs. My left knee and elbow became the mainstay for delivering hard-hitting blows to the wolf's body, while my right leg kept dynamically moving to counter its fast and agile movements.

With agile movements, I dodged the wolf's counterattacks while constantly creating the right distance to launch my deadly strikes.

I used my grappling technique to control the wolf's movements and bring it to the right position to land my deadly blows.

"The fight is heating up, huh? Don't get too hot, or you'll end up as barbecue!" I joked while still controlling the wolf's movements.

And finally, with precision and full force, I captured the wolf and lifted it high before slamming it with full force to the ground.

The powerful slam rendered the wolf helpless, covering its large body with weakly squirming limbs.

I stood over the helpless wolf, taking a long breath while smiling satisfactorily.

"Looks like I'll need some rest after this," I murmured to myself.

Under the cloak of darkness, with the moon veiled by heavy clouds, I hastily tied up the snoozing werewolf with the rope I had on hand. Dragging the beast along, I couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation.

"Maybe I was a tad too intense earlier," I muttered to myself, trying to break the tension with a bit of humor.

Clearing my throat, I broke into a rendition of a familiar tune. "Na~ Na~ Naa~" I hummed, the melody echoing through the stillness of the forest.

But reality hit hard. "If the villagers catch a glimpse of this guy, they'll have him on a stake before sunrise!" I exclaimed, my thoughts racing as I considered my next move.

"Man, what a pickle!" I sighed, racking my brain for a solution.

Suddenly, a rustling in the bushes shattered the silence, sending me diving for cover. "Oh, come on!" I muttered, ducking into the undergrowth like a secret agent on a mission.

Emerging from the shrubbery, I found myself face to face with a swarm of bugs, giving me the heebie-jeebies. "Get away, you little critters!" I yelped, jumping out like a cat on a hot tin roof.

As a beam of light pierced the darkness, I braced myself for the worst. But to my relief, it was just ol' Lycaon, looking as bewildered as a lost puppy.

"Arche? What in the world are you doing out here?" he asked, looking at me like I was a three-headed monkey.

"Uh, just... cricket hunting?" I offered, trying to sound casual while wrestling with a werewolf.

"At this hour?" Lycaon raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

"Yep! You know, late-night field trip," I quipped, hoping he wouldn't see through my flimsy excuse.

As we chatted, I couldn't help but notice the werewolf starting to stir. Talk about bad timing! Looks like this night was about to get even more interesting.

With his remarkable ability to mend wounds in the blink of an eye, the werewolf wasted no time in springing back to his feet, launching a surprise attack from behind.

I pivoted slowly, facing him with a wry grin. "Come on now, it's past your bedtime! Back to sleep you go!"

"Watch out, Arche! Werewolves!" Lycaon's warning echoed through the night, but to my surprise, the beast seemed more intent on fleeing than fighting. However, I wasn't about to let him slip away so easily.

"Where do you think you're off to? Dinner's already served!" I quipped, employing all my strength to restrain the creature with the rope.

"Hey, old dude, lend me a hand, will ya? Grab the poison bomb from my belt!" I called out, hoping Lycaon would assist me in the heat of the moment.

"Sure thing!" Lycaon fumbled in the darkness, struggling to locate the elusive bomb amidst the chaos.

Amidst the confusion, he presented me with an array of items, none of which were remotely close to what I needed. "Is it this one? Or this? Maybe this?" he guessed, his efforts tinged with a hint of amusement.

"Not quite, my friend! That's the vanishing potion! And those are my binoculars! And no, it's definitely not a ticket to the hot springs!" I chuckled, trying to maintain composure amidst the absurdity of the situation.

Finally, he stumbled upon the correct item, and I breathed a sigh of relief. "That's the one!" I exclaimed, watching as Lycaon eyed the bomb with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

With a swift motion, Lycaon hurled the bomb at the werewolf, its toxic contents swiftly rendering the creature unconscious. "Well done!" I congratulated him, admiring the effectiveness of our impromptu strategy.

While resorting to poison may have seemed like a cowardly tactic, sometimes it's the only recourse in dire circumstances. "I'll explain everything on the way," I promised, knowing that there were certain details best left unsaid for the time being.

As we carried the incapacitated werewolf into Lycaon's nearby abode, he turned to me with a furrowed brow. "Arche, why not just end it here and now?"

With a decisive flick of my wrist, I hoisted the werewolf upside down, much to Lycaon's vocal dismay. His protests fell on deaf ears as I focused on the task at hand.

"I can't have this creature roaming freely in my house! It's devoured enough of my livestock already!" Lycaon's voice continued to echo, even as he dutifully served me tea.

Ignoring his complaints, I took a tentative sip of the tea, my senses on high alert for any sign of foul play. Satisfied that it was safe, I discreetly slipped a sleeping draught into my own cup, desperate for some respite from Lycaon's incessant chatter.

"Hey, old timer, this tea tastes off," I remarked casually, feigning concern.

"Don't change the subject!" Lycaon retorted, taking a sip of my tea. "It's a tad bitter," he observed before succumbing to the effects of the sleeping potion, slumping into a deep slumber.

Taking advantage of the momentary peace, I scrutinized the werewolf closely, pondering over his peculiar behavior. "Why did he flee at the sight of Lycaon?" I mused aloud, studying the creature's features intently.

As I inspected him, it dawned on me that there wasn't a single scar on his body, a stark contrast to the wounds I'd expect from a creature engaged in nightly hunts. "Could it be... that he's actually Lykos?" I wondered aloud, my mind racing with possibilities.

But before I could delve further into my thoughts, the effects of the sleeping potion took hold, plunging me into a deep slumber alongside my companions.

Little did I know that my sleep-induced haze would lead to a startling revelation the following morning.

As the first light of dawn filtered through the window, I stirred from my sleep, my mind foggy and confused. "Where... am I?" I murmured, trying to make sense of my surroundings.

A quick glance around the room brought back memories of the previous night's events, prompting a sudden realization to dawn upon me.

"Where's the werewolf?" I exclaimed, my eyes darting to where I'd left the creature tethered.

To my shock, the figure hanging from the rope wasn't a werewolf at all, but a young man with familiar brown hair. It didn't take long for the pieces to fall into place, and I felt a chill run down my spine as I realized the truth.

The boy dangling before me was none other than Lykos himself.

As the realization sunk in, I found myself face to face with the undeniable truth - Lykos was indeed a werewolf. Before I could process the situation, his eyes snapped open, a look of panic etched across his features.

"Arche! You have to get me out of here before my father sees me like this!" Lykos pleaded urgently.

"Why should I...?" I began, a hint of mischief dancing in my eyes.

But our conversation was abruptly interrupted as Lycaon stirred from his slumber, his confusion mirroring my own from moments before. "Good morning... breakfast is ready, you know..." I offered, attempting to maintain a semblance of normalcy.

But there was nothing normal about the bombshell I was about to drop. "Your son is a werewolf," I declared matter-of-factly.

"What?!" Lycaon exclaimed in shock, his voice reverberating through the suddenly tense atmosphere of the room.

As chaos ensued, with Lycaon's voice filling the air with a cacophony of shock and disbelief, I took charge, tidying up the cluttered room amidst the commotion.

"He's certainly not cut out for singing," I muttered under my breath, handing Lycaon various scattered items.

Amidst the chaos, Lykos confessed, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "Yes... I'm a werewolf..."

But his admission only seemed to fuel his frustration, as he landed unceremoniously on the hard floor after I accidentally untied the rope.

"Ah, sorry, I didn't mean to"

"That was deliberate! You're still holding a grudge against me, aren't you?!" he accused angrily.

"How did you know?! Is that one of the werewolf's abilities?!" I feigned surprise, trying to deflect the blame.

But Lykos wasn't buying it.

"I knew it!"

he exclaimed, frustration evident in his tone.

Setting aside his irritation, Lycaon interjected, his voice tinged with concern. "Son, how did this happen? How did you become a werewolf?"

Taking a deep breath, Lykos began to recount his tale.

"I don't know... After Mom's death, I suddenly found myself transforming into a werewolf at night... and the hunger was unbearable. I started preying on our livestock..."

His admission raised more questions than answers.

"What about the missing children? And the other villagers' livestock?" I pressed, determined to uncover the truth.

"It wasn't me, I swear!" Lykos protested earnestly.

"Then who was it?" Lycaon demanded, the mystery deepening with each passing moment.

As I stepped out of the house, I couldn't shake the feeling of unseen eyes watching our every move.

Though the streets appeared deserted, I sensed a lurking presence in the shadows.

Spotting a newspaper lying on the ground, I stooped to pick it up, my curiosity piqued. Flipping through its pages, I stumbled upon a headline detailing the disappearance of a child and sightings of a werewolf prowling the streets at night.

My mind raced with possibilities. Could there truly be another werewolf roaming the village? And if so, did that mean Gilles was indeed one of them?

Returning to the house, I thrust the newspaper into their hands, urging them to read the alarming news.

Their disbelief mirrored my own as they vehemently denied any involvement in the reported incidents.

With more questions than answers, I knew I had to delve deeper into the mysteries surrounding this village.

"You two stay here," I instructed, before hastening away to pursue my own leads.

My destination? The village chief's house, a sprawling abode that stood as a beacon of authority amidst the quaint surroundings.

Concealing my identity beneath a hood, I rapped gently on the door, my heart pounding with anticipation.

The door creaked open to reveal a familiar face, the same man I had encountered during Gilles' ill-fated execution.

Attempting to curry favor, I feigned admiration.

"Is this the esteemed abode of our village chief?" I inquired, laying the flattery on thick.

The man's expression softened slightly, though his annoyance remained palpable.

"Who are you? I don't recall seeing you before," he responded, his skepticism evident.

Undeterred, I spun a tale of being a wandering traveler drawn to the village by tales of its illustrious leader.

Behind my hood, a sly grin played upon my lips as I awaited his response.

"Oh, you're absolutely right! I am indeed the epitome of greatness as the village chief," he exclaimed with a booming voice, his ego swelling with every word.

As he boasted about his achievements, I played along, showering him with flattery. "Your accomplishments truly precede you! I must document your greatness in my records for all to marvel at."

With his narcissistic tendencies laid bare, I knew just how to manipulate him to my advantage.

"May I have the honor of entering your esteemed abode?" I inquired, feigning reverence.

"Of course! Please, come right in!" he replied enthusiastically, ushering me inside.

Upon entering, I couldn't help but notice the array of trophies adorning the shelves. "Your collection of accolades is truly impressive," I remarked, fueling his inflated sense of self.

With a sense of self-importance radiating from him, we settled into the living room, ready to engage in conversation.

"I was also the one who exposed the identity of the werewolf, you know! That scoundrel Gilles," he boasted, puffing out his chest proudly.

"You truly are remarkable! Your bravery knows no bounds," I commended him, further stroking his ego.

As he offered to prepare beverages, I seized the opportunity to execute my plan. "Coffee, please. There's nothing quite like a cup of coffee to start the day," I replied, masking my intentions behind a facade of gratitude.

As he headed to the kitchen, I discreetly retrieved the vial of poison from my bag, ensuring it was potent enough to incapacitate him without causing any harm.

Little did he know, his hospitality would soon lead to his downfall, courtesy of a well-timed dose of poison.

I sat across from the village chief as he brought the coffee, his demeanor exuding pride and self-assurance.

"Thank you very much," I said politely as he placed the coffee on the table.

As he inquired about my intentions, I pretended to ponder my questions while examining the coffee in front of me. Taking a sip, I feigned dissatisfaction. "Apologies, could I trouble you for some sugar? This coffee is a tad strong for my taste."

Chuckling at my request, he headed back to the kitchen, leaving me alone with the coffee. Seizing the opportunity, I carefully poured the poison into his cup, ensuring not to use a lethal dose.

Upon his return with the sugar, I thanked him again and added the cubes to my coffee, using it as a pretext to divert his attention. "Shall we raise a toast?" I suggested, hoping to hasten the effects of the poison.

"Cheers," he replied, and we clinked our cups together before taking a drink.

As I observed him sipping his coffee, I awaited the telltale signs of drowsiness, knowing the poison was taking effect.

"This coffee tastes peculiar," he remarked, his eyelids growing heavy.

Concerned, I asked, "Are you feeling all right, village chief?"

"Just a bit fatigued... and a touch sleepy," he mumbled before succumbing to slumber.

"Rest well," I whispered sarcastically, knowing he wouldn't wake for hours.

With him out of commission, I rose from my seat, ready to explore his home for any valuable information.

Carefully, I began to explore the room. But instead of finding citizen identification books, I stumbled upon a collection of weird and funny items that I never could have imagined.

In the corner of the room, there was a giant hat with colorful feathers that seemed to want to dance on its own.

I almost burst out laughing at the thought of the village chief wearing that hat in the middle of an official village event.

On the table, there was a large package neatly wrapped in colorful gift paper. Without hesitation, I opened the package and... was surprised to see a large porcelain penguin statue.

"What... is this?" I murmured in disbelief, trying to imagine why the village chief would have a penguin statue in his living room.

Then, on the bookshelf, there was a collection of masks of wild animals that left me stunned.

From lions to owls, they were all there. I couldn't imagine the village chief pretending to be these animals in the dead of night.

But the weirdest item that left me speechless was a complete superhero costume hanging in the closet.

"Maybe this is why the village chief is so bold in making decisions," I mumbled, trying to hold back laughter.

While I was still busy inspecting these strange items, the village chief remained fast asleep, oblivious to the chaos I was causing.

"Sleep tight, Sir," I whispered, trying not to wake him up.

Entering the village chief's room, I felt like stepping into a darker world than I had ever imagined.

There, various items hinted at the village chief's unexpected adult side.

"This room is similar to a room in a love hotel.."

In the corner of the room, hanging on the wall, were some luxurious and seductive women's lingerie. I couldn't help but feel surprised.

It felt strange to see another side of the village chief whom I had always thought of as just an ordinary village leader.

However, what sent shivers down my spine was a small drawer under his bed. Carefully, I opened it and found a small box containing various adult "tools".

From condoms to "performance-enhancing" pills, everything was neatly arranged inside the box.

Despite having a naughty side myself, I felt taken aback by how far the village chief had delved into this adult world.

However, as I was about to close the drawer, my eyes widened when I spotted a hidden book behind the stack of seductive women's lingerie.

I pulled out the book and was astonished to realize that it was the village chief's diary.

"Diary book?"

I sat on the bed which was covered in lots of very seductive women's underwear

"I'll go crazy if I stay here too long..."

I swiftly stowed the book in my bag and quietly exited the room, ensuring to shut the door behind me. But just as I was about to make my escape, I heard a voice calling out.

"Wanderer? Where have you gone?" the village chief's voice echoed through the hallway.

"Wandering?" I muttered to myself, surprised by his sudden awakening.

Thinking quickly, I dashed to the kitchen and fetched a basin filled with water, returning to the village chief's side.

"Ah, you're awake! You must have dozed off," I remarked casually, offering him the water.

He seemed disoriented, rubbing his eyes as he attempted to regain his composure. "I... suppose so."

"Rest up now. We can continue our conversation tomorrow," I advised, eager to make my exit and peruse the contents of the village chief's diary.

"Even the greatest among us need their rest," I added with a reassuring smile.

As I made my departure, I could sense his confusion lingering behind me. Ignoring any further protests, I hastened away, seeking a secluded spot to examine the diary.

Finding solace by a familiar rock, I hesitated before delving into the contents of the stolen book. Guilt gnawed at my conscience as I pondered the ethical implications of my actions.

"Is this considered theft?" I pondered aloud, grappling with my moral compass.

With a heavy sigh, I resolved to find a way to atone for my misdeeds.

"I'll return the book once I've gleaned the necessary information," I reasoned, seeking solace in the hope of redemption.

'I then opened the book and started reading the contents of the diary, I immediately read from the middle because I cared about the story of the beginning of the diary

'Today, my heart is filled with a powerful desire for power and praise. As an unrivaled leader, I yearn for the resounding cheers of respect from the villagers.

However, that satisfaction is no longer enough for me. I crave more than that. I desire to be presented before kings and queens, seated on a throne of glory.

Every action, every decision I make is no longer aimed at the welfare of the village, but rather at enlarging my own name and power.

I want to be the center of attention, the subject of praise and recognition wherever I go.

Consumed by power, I will continue to pursue this ambition with fervor and determination.

For to me, there is nothing more important than being acknowledged as an extraordinary ruler and admired by all.'

"This guy's a real piece of work," I muttered, my blood boiling with rage as I flipped through the damning pages of the diary.

'Today, my eyes were drawn to the captivating beauty of Lycaon's wife, one of the villagers. My mind was immediately filled with unstoppable ambition. I knew that winning her heart and body would be a significant step towards greater power and praise.

Without hesitation, I planned and executed a scheme to capture Lycaon's wife. Through cunning manipulation and false promises, I succeeded in captivating her and bringing her into my embrace.

This action not only satisfied my personal desires and ambitions but also became a dramatic event that would surely garner attention and praise from the villagers.

I knew that by demonstrating the power and ability to take whatever I desired, I would be increasingly respected and revered by them.

With this step, I feel closer to my ultimate goal: to become a ruler recognized and adored by all. Nothing can stop me on my path to undeniable power and abundant praise.'

"Seriously? What the hell is wrong with this dude?" I exclaimed, my voice laced with venomous frustration.

As I delved deeper into the sordid details of the village chief's treachery, my disgust only intensified.

'Today, I made a decision filled with sacrifice, yet driven by insatiable greed. With eyes wide open to ambition and a desire for greater power, I struck a deal with the devil to become a werewolf.

The sacrifice required was to relinquish worldly pleasures, including the sexual relationship with Lycaon's wife that had so far satisfied my desires. Though it was difficult to give up this pleasure, I knew it was the price I had to pay to achieve greater power and recognition.

With this pact, I feel even closer to my ultimate goal. I am ready to face any consequences that may arise from this decision, as long as I can take steps toward undeniable power and abundant praise.

Through these actions, I further assert myself as an undisputed ruler, prepared to face any obstacle and take any risk to achieve my ambitious goals.'

"Enough is enough. This guy's days of screwing people over are numbered," I declared, my voice seething with determination.

With each revelation, I felt a surge of indignation coursing through me, fueling my resolve to bring this corrupt bastard to justice.

'This morning, I discovered a shocking fact that opens new opportunities for my ambitions. It turns out that Lykos, Lycaon's son, is also a werewolf.

This information provides me with the perfect tool to continue my plans to create a major problem and then resolve it in front of the villagers.

With a cunning plan, I decided to make Lykos the scapegoat. Tonight, I will create great chaos in the village, using my powers as a werewolf.

When the villagers are terrified and confused, I will direct the blame toward Lykos, making him appear to be the culprit behind all the chaos.

After that, I will emerge as the hero, calming the villagers and 'defeating' the threat I created myself.

In this way, praise and recognition from the villagers will flow even more toward me, while Lykos, an innocent child, will bear the burden of my scheme!'

"Son of a... This is beyond messed up," I growled, my fists clenched in simmering anger.

"It turns out the peeping tom this morning was him..." I tore the incriminating sheet from the village chief's twisted plan.

Stuffing the diary into my bag to keep its other contents safe from prying eyes, I made a mental note to share this revelation with Lycaon and Lykos, albeit discreetly. Exposing the affair with Lycaon's wife would only add fuel to an already volatile situation.

Returning to their house, I hesitated at the door, hearing their hushed conversation inside. It felt like intruding on a private moment. "Um... give me a holler when you're ready," I mumbled awkwardly before closing the door again, giving them their space.

"Come on in, Arche," Lycaon's voice called out after a moment. I reentered, finding them no longer in their embrace.

"Lykos, there's something you need to know..."

"Hmm? What is it?"

"About Gilles, is he really a werewolf?"

"Ah, that... I'm not sure. I was just as surprised when I read the newspaper earlier."

Realization dawned on us as we pieced together the village chief's manipulative scheme.

The very person who portrayed himself as the village's savior was the mastermind behind its turmoil.

Sharing the evidence, their disbelief mirrored my own. How could someone who purportedly aided the community be capable of such deceit?

Their inquiries veered towards other entries in the diary, but I carefully skirted around the darker truths.

Shielding Lykos from the painful reality of his mother's involvement, I chose instead to focus on the devil's pact without revealing its true cost. Some secrets were better left buried.

"I don't want to lose my family again..." Lycaon's plea echoed through the room, desperation clinging to every word.

"Arche! Please, you have to do something!" His voice trembled with fear and uncertainty.

With a confident smirk, I reassured them, "Don't worry. You're about to witness the greatest theatrical spectacle this village has ever seen."

"Theater drama?" Lykos questioned, perplexed by my cryptic words.

I nodded, my expression carrying an air of divine certainty. "Yes, indeed. Lykos, go to the village chief and arrange a meeting at midnight."

"Eh? Why?" Lykos's confusion was evident, but he complied nonetheless.

"Just trust me," I urged, my tone dripping with conviction.

As Lykos departed on his errand, Lycaon turned to me, eyes filled with anticipation and curiosity. "What exactly are you planning, Arche?"

A mischievous glint danced in my eyes as I leaned in closer. "Manipulating the residents of this village is child's play for me."

His gaze held mine, a mixture of awe and apprehension.

"Prepare yourself," I declared with theatrical flourish, raising my hands to the air.

"It's showtime!"

With that proclamation, a flock of birds scattered from the nearby trees, startled by the intensity of my declaration.

In the dead of night, Lykos made his way to the heart of the village, where the village chief awaited. With an air of aristocratic grace, the village chief stood, as if expecting the arrival of other esteemed guests.

"Have I kept you waiting?" Lykos inquired politely.

"Not at all, I just arrived," the village chief replied smoothly. "What do you want to ask?"

"I simply wish to know whether you are the werewolf terrorizing our village."

The village chief's demeanor shifted slightly, his composure wavering. "What leads you to suspect me?"

"It's quite evident," Lykos countered. "You're always conspicuously absent whenever the werewolf strikes."

"And where were you during those attacks?" the village chief retorted, attempting to deflect suspicion.

"I was searching for you!" Lykos insisted.

"Then why the reluctance to confess?" the village chief pressed, closing the distance between them and grasping Lykos's collar. "Admit it, and I will do the same."

"Are you truly the werewolf?" Lykos's voice quivered with uncertainty.

With a sudden, forceful motion, the village chief threw Lykos to the ground.

"Yes, I am the werewolf! And what will you do about it?"

"You're just a mere mortal! You stand no chance against me in my true form!"

With a menacing snarl, the village chief transformed into a terrifying werewolf before Lykos's eyes, revealing his ability to control his transformation at will.

As you may wonder why Lykos could be in human form despite his lack of control over his transformations, the truth is rather simple:

the Lykos confronting the village chief is none other than me.

Before this decisive moment, I had concocted a potion intended to alter my appearance.

While my previous attempts at potion-making had been fruitless, Lycaon's involvement somehow led to success on the first try. But this was just one piece of my elaborate plan.

During a lull in my potion-making endeavors, I orchestrated a gathering of all the village residents in the town center before midnight.

Instructing them to conceal themselves, I ensured that the village chief's damning confession would be overheard by every hidden ear.

All of this meticulously orchestrated chaos unfolded precisely as I had envisioned.

Meanwhile, the real Lykos is in his werewolf form with Lycaon, they observed from the safety of the shadows, witnessing the downfall of the tyrant who had ruled over them for far too long.

The residents who had been hiding after hearing this immediately ran towards the village head and shouted at him with many words that children should not say.

"Son of a bitch!" "Traitor!" "Bastard!" "Asshole!" "Fuck you!" and things like that

The village chief's attempt to deflect blame was drowned out by the cacophony of enraged voices. "He's a werewolf too! It's all a ruse!"

In a desperate attempt to salvage the situation, the village chief pointed an accusing finger. "You're not Lykos... Who are you?"

After drinking a potion that returned me to my true self, I triumphantly proclaimed, "This is your defeat, Mr. Village Head."

"It's nice to be yourself"

I said after returning to my true form

The enraged residents, who had surrounded the village head, were thrown back by the werewolf's force.

"Oh great, Mr. Headman, really? You couldn't pick another night to turn into a monster?" I shouted sarcastically, trying to mask my fear with humor.

The werewolf let out a low growl, then lunged at me with impressive speed. I quickly moved my feet to the right, twisting my body to dodge his attack.

As he missed me, I threw a quick punch to his jaw, knocking his head to the side. But my attack only made him angrier.

"Oops, looks like he didn't like my joke," I muttered, readying myself for the next attack.

With swift movements, he turned and swiped at me. I ducked low, arching my back to avoid the claws, then stepped forward and landed a hard punch to his ribs. I felt his bones vibrate under my fist, but the werewolf only growled louder.

"Did that even hit? If not, sorry about that. It's my first time hitting a village head," I said with fake nonchalance.

As he attacked again, I tilted my body to the side, avoiding his sharp claws. Then, with quick movements, I unleashed a series of punches-first to the gut, then to the jaw, and finally a blow to the ribs that made him stagger back.

"Seriously, Mr. Headman. Don't give up now. This is just the warm-up," I joked again, smiling wryly.

However, the werewolf did not back down. With incredible strength, he leaped towards me, claws ready to tear my flesh. I raised my arm to block his attack, using the momentum to step aside, avoiding his reach. Then, with lightning speed, I turned and delivered a powerful hook to the side of his head, making him reel.

"Wow, a strong village head. But I'm no weakling either, you know!"

Sensing this was the right moment, I stepped forward and aimed a punch under his chin. The werewolf lifted slightly off the ground, staggering backward. Panting, I kept my distance, my eyes focused on him.

I could see the werewolf starting to lose his strength, his attacks becoming more erratic.

As he tried to attack again, I dodged with circular movements, circling his body with agile steps. When I saw an opening, I landed a quick punch to his gut, followed by a hard hit to his jaw, breaking his last defense.

"Now this is cool! One last bonus for you, Mr. Headman!"

With my last bit of strength, I delivered a deadly uppercut, hitting him squarely on the chin. The werewolf's body lifted into the air before crashing hard to the ground, his breath heavy and weakening.

Slowly, under the light of the full moon, the werewolf's body reverted back to the unfortunate village head.

I stood over him, breathing heavily, my body exhausted

But before I could fully relax, his body began to move again. With his remaining strength, he stood up, his face still bearing traces of the wolf.

"Wow, Mr. Headman, still going strong? Respect!" I shouted jokingly, though inwardly I remained cautious.

Half-conscious, Mr. Headman suddenly darted towards me with unexpected speed. I was caught off guard and tried to dodge, but his claws-or rather, his punch-landed squarely on my stomach, sending me stumbling back a few steps.

"Ow, Mr. Headman! That hurts, you know!" I grimaced, but quickly regained my stance.

With more focused attacks, Mr. Headman swung his fist at me. I tried to dodge, but his punch landed hard on my cheek, snapping my head to the side. I felt a hot pain spread across my face.

"Okay, looks like we're playing for real now!" I decided to change my tactics, approaching him more cautiously.

I started circling him, my footwork nimble to avoid his strikes. But each time I tried to close in for an attack, he anticipated my moves and blocked them forcefully. When I attempted a hook to his ribs, he deflected my punch and countered with a hard blow to my jaw, making me recoil in real pain.

"Wow, Mr. Headman, you're pretty good! Where did you train?"

I tried to mask the pain with sarcastic humor, though I now knew I had to be more careful.

Mr. Headman attacked again with a flurry of punches. I used every technique I had learned-blocking, dodging, and locking his movements-but he kept attacking with renewed vigor. One of his punches landed squarely on my midsection, making me stagger back, nearly falling.

"Breath... Breathe...," I muttered, trying to catch my breath. "Come on, let's go again!"

With all my strength, I attacked again. I threw a quick punch towards his stomach, but he dodged it and countered with a blow that hit my shoulder. Pain radiated, but I didn't give up.

I swung my fist with a hard cross towards his jaw, but again he blocked it and countered with a hook to the side of my head.

My body felt heavy, but my spirit didn't wane. "Okay, Mr. Headman, now it's serious!" With quicker movements, I dodged his strikes, circling his body with fast steps.

As he tried to follow me, I took advantage of a small opening to land a jab to his nose, followed by a hard cross that made him stagger.

But Mr. Headman was no easy opponent. He gathered his strength and, with a single counterattack, his fist struck my chest hard, leaving me gasping for air.

I fell back but quickly got up, my eyes filled with determination.

"Mr. Headman... seriously, when was the last time you trained? I need to learn from you!" I laughed lightly, trying to ease the tension.

Our increasingly intense fight drew the attention of the villagers. They began to gather around the square, watching with a mix of fear and awe. I knew this wasn't just about winning or losing, but about protecting them.

Mr. Headman, now displaying more werewolf traits, let out a louder growl. His eyes glowed red, and I could see his claws growing back. With quick movements, he lunged at me.

"Whoa, who gave Mr. Headman a mani-pedi? Those claws are looking sharp!" I shouted as I tried to dodge.

I glanced at the crowd, looking for something that could help me. My eyes landed on a pitchfork held by an old farmer. Without hesitation, I ran towards him.

"Sir, I need to borrow this!" I yelled, grabbing the pitchfork from his hands.

"Good luck, kid! We believe in you!" he replied with a trembling voice.

With the pitchfork in hand, I felt a bit more confident. Mr. Headman attacked again, his claws aiming straight for my face.

I blocked his attack with the pitchfork, metal clashing with claws in a chilling sound.

"Now this is a fair fight, right?" I said with a smile, trying to distract him.

I spun around, swinging the pitchfork at his legs, trying to throw him off balance. But Mr. Headman jumped with incredible agility, dodging my attack.

He retaliated with a claw swipe that struck my arm, leaving a painful scratch.

"Ouch, Mr. Headman! That was a new shirt! You'll have to sew it yourself,"

I grimaced in pain, but kept my relaxed demeanor.

Quickly, I gripped the pitchfork tighter and attacked again. I thrust the pitchfork towards his stomach, but he deflected it with his claws, bringing us face to face once more.

Our attacks and blocks continued with increasing speed, the sound of clashing metal and werewolf growls filling the night air.

Amidst the flurry of attacks, I saw a small opening. I swung the pitchfork at his shoulder, making him stagger. I didn't waste the opportunity.

With a swift movement, I struck again, aiming the pitchfork at his legs. This time, my attack succeeded, bringing Mr. Headman down to the ground.

"Mr. Headman, looks like you need some extra martial arts classes," I said sarcastically, though my breath was growing heavy.

Mr. Headman, with a final growl, tried to get up again. But I didn't give him the chance.

With one quick move, I swung the pitchfork at his raised claw, rendering him unable to attack.

"Sorry, Mr. Headman. This is for the village," I said, suppressing the exhaustion that was creeping over my body.

Mr. Headman finally collapsed, his breath heavy, and his body slowly reverted to human form. I stood over him, holding the pitchfork with trembling hands.

"Mr. Headman, if you're planning to change again, give me a heads up. I'll get cooler gear ready," I joked, panting heavily.

The villagers who had been watching started cheering, approaching me with faces full of gratitude. I smiled, despite my body being covered in cuts and bruises.

That terrifying night finally came to an end. The village was safe.

"Sir, don't forget to return the pitchfork. It's a prized weapon," I said, laughing softly, feeling relieved and satisfied despite the exhaustion.

As I lay there, weakened and panting, I couldn't believe the strength of the village head.

The following day, just like Gilles, the village head faced execution.

Despite Lykos still being among them, the villagers believed their werewolf troubles were over.

Lykos and Lycaon decided to embark on a journey to seek someone who could lift Lykos' curse.

The villagers bestowed upon me the nickname "The Werewolf Slayer," a title I wore with pride, knowing it would etch my memory into their minds.

Before departing, the villagers bombarded me with questions, but I answered only what was necessary. After all, "Three can keep a secret if two of them are dead."