After nightfall, Rudolph lay comfortably in the hot bath. The warm spring water steamed gently, soothing his entire body. He heard footsteps but kept his eyes closed, assuming another customer had entered the bathhouse. When the footsteps stopped beside him, he opened his eyes and saw someone handing him a drink on the bank. Taking the drink, Rudolph turned his head in confusion.
“Captain, when are we going to catch those werewolves?”
Rudolph looked around in shock, his face full of disbelief. “This is the men’s bath! You—how did you even get in here?”
The wolf girl, Yvonne, had already cut off her long hair, yet her delicate face still brimmed with youthful collagen—she was unmistakably still a woman.
“It’s past midnight; in the men’s bath, you’re the only one here,” she replied without any hint of embarrassment. “Besides, don’t all the men bring their bath maids along?”
Rudolph thought Yvonne had completely lost her mind—every sentence she spoke was about going off to kill werewolves. He lifted his head, intending to scold the simple farm girl for her ignorance, but the moment he met her eyes, he froze. In her crystal-blue pupils, lined with bright red veins, he saw something like burning hatred.
Rudolph took a sip of his drink, then set the cup aside, no longer looking at or blaming Yvonne. If the farm family were still alive, Yvonne would probably still be the little girl learning to help her parents.
“Tomorrow, we’re going to visit the Elk Tribe…” Rudolph said. “They promised the sheriff a report, but it’s been almost a week and nothing’s been handed in.”
“Great! I’ll go get the horses ready!” Yvonne said happily.
“Tomorrow works perfectly,” Rudolph replied. Clearly, Yvonne wasn’t interested in listening to his orders on this matter.
Soon after, the bathhouse owner, Bass, entered the bath.
“Eh? Where’s that policewoman from earlier? Rudolph, you’re leaving so quickly—was it only five minutes?”
“Quick?” Rudolph barely had time to react. When he did, he glared at Bass and said, “Even if it’s only five minutes, I’m not staying here for five minutes! I’m charging tonight’s tab!”
Rudolph was a stickler for details; he always paid for his consumption, unlike that uncle of the mayor’s nephew’s cousin, who never paid a cent but just kept a running tab. Startled, Bass quickly refilled his drink. “No, no, no! I specifically hung a ‘Closed’ sign just to make things convenient for you—how can you charge me for that?”
The next day, Rudolph silently thanked Yvonne for not knocking on his door early, which allowed him a good night’s sleep. After breakfast, he went to the station’s rear yard with his firearms and found that Yvonne had already prepared the horses. Along with his guns, Rudolph had brought three doses of lycanthropic poison antidote—he’d made these using his secretly stashed Rank-1 wolf saliva, all packed into an aluminum bottle. Yvonne was already seated on a horse, and Rudolph’s own horse was ready too. He wasn’t sure when she had managed to do all this, but it couldn’t be too late.
Rudolph mounted his horse. “Let’s go—Avenging Goddess!”
Yvonne was quite pleased with that title, and the two of them left the station together. This time, Rudolph had brought enough weapons. Yvonne also carried a shotgun, though it was obvious she didn’t put much stock in such ammunition.
Once they were out of town, Rudolph remarked, “Yvonne, you need to learn to use firearms properly—it’s all part of your disguise. Right now you’re just a trainee patrolman in Lyman Town; you’re not a werewolf.”
Only then did Yvonne seriously study her shotgun. Rudolph himself had prepared two shotguns—loaded with 6 alchemical shells and 12 regular shells—and two revolvers carrying 18 alchemical rounds and 30 regular rounds. Even though this trip was merely to inquire at the Elk Tribe, caution was never wasted.
Not long after leaving town, Rudolph suddenly heard a tiger’s roar that startled him. Following the sound, he discovered that the circus, coming from a different branch road, was about to leave town. A tiger, confined in a cage too small for it, roared, and a few children lingered nearby, unwilling to see the circus depart. Rudolph stopped his horse and called out, “Manager Seko, are you leaving Lyman Town already?”
“We have no choice; the circus needs to perform elsewhere. Staying in one place too long makes the audience tired of our act.”
Rudolph then searched among the circus folks for the clown, Kuber. Kuber caught sight of Rudolph—the detested patrolman who had caused his precious dog’s death—and quickly ducked to the back of the group. Rudolph, who disliked dogs and had never kept pets, couldn’t fathom Kuber’s current feelings.
“Good luck, everyone! I too would love to wander about—it sounds incredibly romantic!”
Rudolph genuinely envied the circus life; at least it meant seeing different places. Having crossed over, he still hadn’t truly understood this world—not even Fabro City.
As Rudolph and Yvonne watched the circus depart, the clown Kuber emerged from behind a cart. For some reason, he always tried to avoid the patrolman—partly out of disgust and perhaps a bit of fear.
Meanwhile, the Elk Tribe of druids resided in a forest. Rudolph and Yvonne did not head there immediately; Yvonne said she wanted to first visit her old home. As they neared the farm, Yvonne began to speak more.
“Do you think the new farm owner will treat our old home kindly?”
Rudolph couldn’t bear to crush her hopes—after all, the farm was little more than a structure with only columns and beams left after the werewolves had nearly torn it apart. Even if it were demolished, all that would remain would be firewood.
“Do you think there are sheep on the farm now?” she asked.
Previously, the cattle and sheep had all become werewolves’ food, though who knows if the werewolves are still hungry.
“I heard there’s a fun whirlpool by the waterwheel—I used to toss leaves into it for fun,” she added. Rudolph recalled seeing a toppled waterwheel once.
Near dusk, Rudolph and Yvonne finally arrived at the farm. Yvonne dared not approach; she only gazed at it from a distance. The house still stood as a skeleton of columns and beams, and there were no cattle or sheep—only the occasional wild rabbit. The waterwheel lay half in the river, with the other half swept away by the current. Clearly, the druids still hadn’t found a new owner for the farm. With the wilderness in chaos and rumors flying, no one wanted to take over a dilapidated farm in winter—most would wait until spring, when its value could be better realized.
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Yvonne sat under a tree, staring longingly at her old home. Rudolph had nothing to do but care for his horse. Five minutes, ten minutes, half an hour, one hour, two hours passed… Rudolph and his horse grew tired of each other; the horse found the rider unbearably boring, endlessly fussing with the saddle until it became uncomfortable.
As the sun turned red, Rudolph had to whisper, “It’s almost nightfall, Yvonne…”
In the wilderness, nightfall spelled danger.
“Just three minutes… no, five minutes—please, Captain… this is the last time I’ll get to see my home…”
Before the sun had fully set, Rudolph and Yvonne reached the edge of the forest. Yvonne’s old home and the Elk Tribe’s forest weren’t far apart. Just outside the forest was the Elk Tribe’s stable, guarded by a druid.
“Officer, please hand over the horses—I promise to take good care of them,” the druid said.
There was a sense of security here; as long as one reached the Elk Tribe, one was far from the dangers of the wilderness.
Rudolph handed his horse over to the druid and then, together with Yvonne, entered the forest. To his surprise, he found that the forest paths were lined with fireflies—even in winter, somehow the druids managed to nurture them. The fireflies formed strings that floated along the sides of the path like glowing ribbons, swaying in the wind to guide the way. The air was filled with fragrant aromas; even in winter, herbs grew abundantly along the path. Occasionally, animals would be seen nearby, ruminating on roots while watching the two pass by. In this forest, animals were not afraid of humans.
Deep within the forest, Rudolph finally encountered the Elk Tribe’s druid settlement. Tree trunks bore small treehouses where the druids rested at night.
“Elder Tag! It’s good to see you again,” Rudolph called out. The druids had long since noticed his arrival; they waited outside the settlement for him. Elder Tag led Rudolph and Yvonne to the center of the settlement, where a bonfire had been lit, its warmth comforting Rudolph. He had seen many male druids before—always bare-chested, flaunting their bulging muscles. To his slight disappointment, the female druids wore only bandeaus, which he felt didn’t quite honor the closeness to nature.
There were about seven or eight druids gathered, with several elk wandering around outside.
“Elder Tag, I’m here on behalf of Sheriff Claude to inquire about the investigation into the werewolf packs. Have you made any progress?”
Elder Tag sighed. “The reason I haven’t contacted Sheriff Claude these past several days is that some of the druids I sent out on investigations were seriously injured, and some even died. This situation is very abnormal. For some reason, it appears that another werewolf pack—or rather, several packs—have appeared in the vicinity.”
“What about the size of these packs?” asked Rudolph, worry creeping into his voice. Could it be that there are now Rank-2 werewolves nearby? If so… he’d have to run, and if he didn’t leave by first light, every extra day would be recklessly endangering his life. He was merely a wizard apprentice—if he were to overstep his grade, he could only move up one rank at a time; jumping two ranks would be tantamount to tempting fate.
“Previously, the surrounding werewolf packs had only Rank-1 alphas with their underlings. Those packs dared not openly attack farms, as the farms were strong enough to leave behind a few underlings each time. However, the newly discovered pack consists of nearly 30 werewolves—not only are there many underlings, but there are also 7 or 8 Rank-1 werewolves. Unless there is a Rank-2 werewolf among them, two Rank-1 werewolves wouldn’t peacefully coexist; one would inevitably become the alpha. And only a Rank-2 werewolf can use his wolf poison to create a Rank-1 werewolf. So, the new pack must include a Rank-2 werewolf. Sheriff Claude’s defeated pack consisted only of Rank-2 and Rank-1 werewolves, which suggests they had just migrated and hadn’t yet produced enough underlings. But in this new pack, the number of underlings is already considerable. Underlings are merely laborers for the werewolves, and an increase in their numbers indicates that these werewolves are preparing to settle down. This is truly bad news. And we’ve found traces of other werewolf packs too—we don’t even know how large those packs are.”
Elder Tag sighed again. “The number of animals in the area is rapidly decreasing—werewolves are starving. If the wilderness cannot provide enough food for the werewolf packs, they will begin attacking farms.”
Facing werewolves alone, Rudolph more deeply appreciated the sheriff’s prowess; in the previous encounter, more than half of the werewolves were eliminated by Sheriff Claude.
“Have there been any incidents of werewolves attacking farms nearby?”
“Not yet, but it won’t be long. Werewolves feeding solely on animals is as unsatisfying as us eating only vegetables. It’s tolerable for a while, but eventually they’ll attack humans. Eating human flesh is for them like a delicacy.”
Elder Tag then asked, “Officer Rudolph, why don’t you come with us tomorrow to search for more clues?”
Rudolph shook his head decisively. “I don’t think that’s necessary… I’d better go back and call for Sheriff Claude. Such tricky matters are best handled by him.”
“Very well, officer—thank you for coming out. I too think the sheriff should visit in person.”
Yvonne’s face fell in disappointment; she had hoped to find werewolves to exact her revenge, but she said little more.
The druids provided Rudolph and Yvonne with two wooden cabins. The Elk Tribe maintained a few ground-level houses for visiting farm owners or other guests.
Lying in his cabin, Rudolph wondered if he should break away from the station. The station was too dangerous—so many werewolves in the wild meant he might be killed at any moment. But what else could he do if he left? Just wander aimlessly…
Drifting into a hazy sleep, Rudolph suddenly woke. His Tooth of the Undead was giving him feedback—there were corpses nearby! Ordinary human corpses couldn’t activate the Tooth; only apostate corpses could! He immediately thought of the druid guarding the stables, all alone outside the forest—the poor fellow looked doomed.
Grabbing all his weapons, Rudolph burst out of the cabin. He kicked open Yvonne’s door and found her still awake, frantically tucking away her family portrait. Without pausing to say more, he shouted, “Let’s go! Out!”
Outside, Rudolph and Yvonne scanned the surrounding forest. Rudolph didn’t know where the danger lay, but he’d rather provoke a firefight and let the druids grumble about his loose trigger finger than be caught off guard. He raised his shotgun and fired two shots into the forest, intent on waking every druid in the area. The chaotic sound of the shotgun echoed wildly among the trees. Soon, many druids descended from the branches.
“What’s going on, Officer Rudolph?” one called out.
Before Rudolph could answer, a large flock of crows suddenly erupted from the trees, their raucous cries circling above the settlement. Crows and vultures were always drawn to werewolf activity—after a feast, werewolves left behind enough scraps on bones to feed these birds.
Without waiting for Rudolph’s reply, Elder Tag shouted, “Enemy attack! Werewolves incoming!”
Some of the slower druids scrambled back into the trees to grab their weapons. The Elk Tribe had only about 30 members; usually, a werewolf pack wouldn’t dare attack such a small druid community unless… unless their numbers were overwhelming!
Yvonne’s night vision was excellent—she was the first to pinpoint a target and fired a shot into the darkness. The shotgun blast scattered a spray of pellets between two trees. In response, about a dozen werewolves suddenly leaped out of the forest! Towering figures with gaping, bloodstained maws and outstretched claws charged toward the assembled group in the woods.