“Rudolf, don’t leave! Let’s slack off together.”

Policewoman Kelita was in a good mood these past few days. Rudolf had been chatting with her a lot recently, making the dull work much more enjoyable. Slacking off during work hours was one of life’s great pleasures.

Rudolf also wanted to stay and chat—he needed human interaction to counteract the side effects of the Corpse Tooth. However, he had already noticed an important figure entering the police station.

Mr. Puli, the Red Priest of Leman Town, had arrived. There was only one week left until the Full Moon Sacrifice in December, yet the police station had done nothing—the sacrificial offerings were still unprepared.

Chief Claude respectfully escorted the Red Priest out, with Rudolf following behind, carefully observing this priest. The monthly Full Moon Sacrifice was always presided over by Puli. He was a pale, almost bloodless-looking middle-aged man. Outside of the sacrificial rituals, there were very few opportunities to see him.

Puli repeatedly emphasized the importance of the offerings, and Chief Claude nodded in agreement over and over.

After sending the Red Priest off, Claude wore a troubled expression.

“Rudolf, have you found any leads on the offerings?”

“I’ve been working tirelessly, searching day and night, but unfortunately, I haven’t found anything yet.”

“Day and night?” Claude raised an eyebrow. “I heard you’ve been either at the tavern or the bathhouse these past few nights. Speaking of which, I also heard that the bathhouse owner, Bass, recently hired some well-built masseuses from Fabro City. How was it?”

Rudolf’s eyes lit up. “That’s outrageous! There’s something like that? Why didn’t Bass tell me?”

“Do you have money?” Claude asked, delivering a soul-crushing question.

“…No.”

Rudolf realized that while alcohol and hot baths were enjoyable, they also cost money—money that was running out fast. Perhaps Bass knew Rudolf was short on cash, which was why he hadn’t mentioned the new services.

Claude patted him on the shoulder. “Alright, Rudolf. Tomorrow, you’re coming with me into the wild. We need to see if we can find a werewolf. Yesterday, I received a letter from the druids. They believe something bad is happening out there.”

“If we manage to capture a werewolf, I can give you some extra funding.”

“Deal!”

### The Next Day

Claude and Rudolf rode out of Leman Town on horseback. This was the first time Rudolf had ventured far from town since arriving in this world.

For ordinary people, the wilderness meant danger—it was ruled by all sorts of heretical apostles.

As they traveled, they reached the first farm. The closer a farm was to the town, the safer it was, as help from the police station would arrive faster.

Despite his usual easygoing and playful demeanor, Claude was incredibly strong.

The farmer, upon seeing the police chief, quickly left the barn and came over to the roadside, handing both Claude and Rudolf a jug of milk.

“Chief Claude, it’s been a while since you last patrolled this area!”

While the chief chatted with the farmer, Rudolf observed the two men standing behind him.

This farm was well-protected—it had hired two druids.

The druids were shirtless, their sun-darkened skin stretched over bulging muscles. Sweat dripped down their well-defined chests.

As the saying goes, “Overtraining attracts the same gender.”

Rudolf’s eyes followed those sweat droplets as they trickled down. His intense gaze made the two druids uncomfortable—they turned around.

As they did, a jingling sound rang out.

The druids wore skirts, decorated with coarse hemp ropes holding metal pieces, stone fragments, animal teeth, and small bones.

Aside from the two rugged-looking druids, the two massive brown bears behind them also stood out.

This was the nature of druids—they were the guardians of the wilderness. Many farms hired druids to protect their land and livestock. In exchange for payment, druids would send warriors to safeguard these settlements.

Soon, the conversation between the chief and the farmer wrapped up.

Claude turned to Rudolf. “Let’s go. We need to hurry.”

He cracked his whip, urging his horse forward. Rudolf quickly followed.

As they galloped along the main road, an unsettling feeling grew stronger.

There were barely any merchant caravans in sight—this was unusual.

Leman Town was located on the southern outskirts of Fabro City. Any merchants traveling north to Fabro had to pass through Leman Town.

The empty road meant that merchants had noticed something was wrong and altered their routes.

This matched what the druids had warned about—something terrible was happening in the wilderness.

### Half a Day Later

Rudolf and Claude arrived at the most remote farm near Leman Town.

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The farther a farm was from town, the poorer and more vulnerable it was.

The sight before them was grim—scattered across the farm were the skeletal remains of cows and sheep, torn apart by vicious bites.

Claude motioned for Rudolf to ready his shotgun. There was danger here.

These bite marks were left by werewolves. Only a pack, led by an alpha, could utterly destroy a farm’s defenses like this.

“We’re too late…”

Claude pushed open the wooden gate and stepped inside.

“There was a fight here,” he observed, standing over a cluster of corpses.

Rudolf surveyed the area. Among the bodies were farm dogs, druid bears, and the farm’s residents.

The massive bear was already dead, its throat torn open in a fatal wound. Black-red flesh curled outward, and its body was riddled with gashes. Its insides had been hollowed out—werewolves seemed to have a particular taste for animal organs.

Looking around, Rudolf suddenly pointed to a tree. “Chief! There’s a druid’s corpse up there!”

Druids had a distinctive appearance—bare chests and skirts covered in trinkets.

“Werewolves and druids are mortal enemies,” Claude explained. “They hate each other. After killing a druid, werewolves hang the body high as a display of dominance.”

Since it was winter, the trees were bare, making the corpse particularly noticeable.

Blood trickled down the trunk, staining it a striking red.

A cold wind blew, sending a shiver down Rudolf’s spine.

Staring at the druid’s body, he felt an ominous dread. He feared that one day, if his identity as a wizard was exposed, he might suffer the same fate as the werewolves’ victims.

“Chief, what do we do next?”

Claude took a deep breath. “We wait. This battle happened last night. The surrounding druid tribes will arrive soon. We’ll handle this werewolf attack with them.”

The bodies of the farmer and his family were neatly arranged on the ground. Rudolf covered them with a bedsheet, concealing the gruesome wounds left by the werewolves' bites. Some werewolves were quite picky eaters, consuming only the internal organs...

Actually, this farm wasn't bad—aside from being remote, it had no major flaws. In fact, its remoteness gave it a particularly beautiful view. In the distance, rolling low hills stretched across the horizon, accompanied by a river and lush forests. It was a pity that the entire family, along with the Druids they had hired for protection, had all fallen prey to the werewolves.

The nearest Druid tribe, the Elk Tribe, had sent three Druids, each wearing identical antlers on their heads. Rudolf recalled the two Druids at the first farm, who had fox pelts on their heads—likely from a different tribe.

Inside the farmhouse, a fire had already been lit. While the police chief and the Druid leader discussed the situation, Rudolf wandered through the house, observing his surroundings. He was curious about farm life.

Being reborn in this world felt like a fresh start, and everything he saw fascinated him. The family had soft carpets, delicate glass cups, and gleaming cutlery. This family of seven must have lived a warm, happy life...

On a high table, Rudolf noticed a framed family portrait. The family was smiling brightly in the picture. But then, something struck him.

He moved to the window and looked outside at the seven bodies covered with bedsheets. Among them was a Druid, meaning one member of the farmer's family was missing.

Rudolf interrupted the conversation inside the house.

"Chief, someone is missing. A little girl."

He handed the picture frame to the police chief, who examined it before saying grimly,

"Werewolves don’t leave survivors—especially not tender little girls."

The middle-aged Druid sighed. "This poor family… The farmer had guns, and they even hired Druids for protection. Werewolves fear death, too. Normally, they only attack farms during a full moon. Under the moonlight, they go into a frenzy and gain immense strength. But for them to attack at this time, it suggests something very bad—there might be too many werewolves in the area, and the wild can no longer provide enough food for them."

Both werewolves and Druids had territories. If the werewolf population was growing, it would be a major problem for the Druid tribes.

"That’s a very troubling possibility..." Chief Claude said. "We should scout the area while there's still daylight. If the situation is dire, I’ll request reinforcements from the Fabro City Police Department."

The experienced Druid began examining the crime scene, searching for clues.

"Werewolves are pack animals, just like regular wolves," the Druid explained. "From the tracks, I count five werewolves. Five of them attacked this farm."

"Five werewolves would be overwhelming. The Druids guarding the farm were quickly killed, and the three adult men in the family didn't stand a chance."

"The werewolves feasted well..."

Once the examination was complete, the middle-aged Druid pointed in a direction, leading the group to track the werewolves.

As they followed the trail, Rudolf asked,

"Chief, how does someone become a werewolf?"

Chief Claude explained,

"Werewolf saliva is thick and contains a complex mix of substances. The most dangerous of them is wolf venom. If you're unlucky enough to be bitten, most people die from the poison. But if you're even more unlucky and survive the bite, you'll become a werewolf."

What a crude way to undergo an apostle transformation.

"So," Rudolf continued, "if a werewolf is diligent enough, couldn’t they create a whole army of werewolves? I mean, statistically speaking, some unfortunate souls would survive the bites, right?"

"That’s why werewolves are one of the greatest threats in the wild," Chief Claude warned. "They have terrifying regeneration abilities. Their weakness is their heads. To kill a werewolf, you need to blow up its dog head or chop it off."

Rudolf nodded. He made a mental note: aim for the dog head.

Unlike the Druids, who relied on experience, Rudolf preferred tools. He pulled out a telescope and scanned the distance.

"That’s unnecessary, patrolman," a young Druid scoffed, eyeing Rudolf's telescope with disdain.

Rudolf had met quite a few Druids over the past few days. They were certainly more common than alchemists, but these muscular men didn't seem particularly bright.

Rudolf shook his shotgun slightly.

"Tell me, is this unnecessary too?"

The young Druid disagreed strongly.

"Humans are insignificant before nature. Only what comes from nature is truly powerful. Before firearms, we survived just fine with spears and bows—tools taken from nature itself. Alchemists, with their arrogance, think they’ve conquered nature. But how laughable! One day, nature will take its revenge and show them how small they really are!"

He made a compelling argument, but Rudolf had no interest in listening. He took a few steps away to avoid further discussion.

Alchemists had managed to form guilds and seize considerable power from nobles mainly because they could distribute alchemical bullets to ordinary people, allowing them to fight apostles.

It was similar to how the police force operated under Chief Claude. With the chief leading them, the police had a decent chance against apostles.

Over the past few days, Rudolf had speculated that alchemy must be incredibly resource-intensive. Even an entire city couldn't afford too many alchemists, forcing their guilds to self-regulate their numbers. Compared to Druids, alchemists were undoubtedly the most powerful apostles.

Eventually, the tracking party reached the edge of a forest.

Inside, the Druids took the lead, with Chief Claude bringing up the rear. He glanced at Rudolf—he was the only one here who wasn’t an apostle, so extra caution was necessary.

Even the Druids, who knew the forest intimately, moved cautiously. But Rudolf? He was like an overexcited tourist.

"Hey, is this mushroom edible? Do you guys have a mushroom cookbook? What happens if you eat the wrong one and start hallucinating?"

"What’s that leaf you’re chewing? Does it help you stay awake? Can I try it?"

"You’re walking barefoot—don’t twigs and rocks hurt your feet?"

He seized every opportunity to learn about forest survival. The young Druid was getting increasingly annoyed.

During a rest break, Rudolf even climbed the tallest tree, using his telescope to scout ahead.

Suddenly, the middle-aged Druid stood up, alarmed.

"Something's wrong. The animals around us are radiating fear!"

At that moment, Rudolf’s voice rang out from above.

"Chief! Good news! I’ve got great news!"

"What is it?" Claude looked up, unsure what Rudolf had spotted.

"Chief! We’ve got enough sacrifices to last us a year and a half!"

Rudolf sounded thrilled. Through his telescope, he had spotted towering, upright figures—a pack of werewolves.

"Sixteen... Seventeen... Eighteen werewolves in total! Chief, we’ll never have to worry about sacrifices again!"

Chief Claude’s face turned pale, his neatly trimmed mustache quivering.

"How the hell is that good news?!"