Dense arrows rained down from the trees as druids of every age fired relentlessly at the werewolves. “Can you climb trees?” Rudolph asked while reloading his shotgun. “Yes—I’m very fast at it!” Yvonne replied. Growing up on a farm, tree‐climbing was basic entertainment for her. “But I can’t!” Rudolph protested in exasperation, feeling he was holding her back. “Then climb up like the druids do!”
Rank‑1 druids relied mainly on the giant bears they controlled for offense. Nearby, huge bears panted heavily while the druids perched in trees and shot arrows from above, leaving Rudolph and Yvonne exposed on the ground. Even with the barrage of arrows, the open ground remained extremely dangerous.
Yvonne, however, ignored Rudolph’s advice. Instead, she huddled against him, using her shotgun to intimidate the werewolves trying to break through. “Run!” Rudolph shouted. He believed these werewolves were attacking the Elk Tribe and might not be as focused on them. Yvonne was even more desperate to escape, as she struggled to transform properly in the druid tribe. “You lead the way! Avoid the direction of the alpha!” Rudolph commanded, knowing that as long as they avoided the alpha—a Rank‑2 werewolf—they still had a chance to survive.
Amidst the cacophony of werewolf howls, Yvonne quickly identified the weakest part of the encirclement. “Over there—the fewest werewolves are there!” In the ensuing chaos, gunfire erupted uncontrollably. Yvonne managed to take down two werewolves, though Rudolph couldn’t tell if they were Rank‑1 alphas or mere underlings. The werewolves moved swiftly; Rudolph needed five or six bullets just to hit one creature’s snout. Once a gap was created, both he and Yvonne dashed for cover.
As they escaped the circle, the main force of werewolves shifted their focus to the druid settlement—they had come to seize territory. Some werewolves clung to tree bark with their claws, beginning to scale the trunks, while others crashed against the massive trees supporting the druid treehouses. The weight of the treehouses made the trees top‑heavy; one druid cried out as he fell from his treehouse. Several werewolves leaped into the air and bit into the fallen druid’s body.
“Run!” Rudolph shouted as he spotted a werewolf closing in on them. One werewolf, accompanied by two underlings, posed much less of a threat. Ahead lay a slope—Rudolph leaped down and tumbled along it, rolling so many times that he felt dazed before struggling to his feet. With werewolves hot on their heels, he methodically reloaded his weapon. “If you chase me any further… I won’t be merciful!” he muttered, careful not to utter the word “dog” (a term he dreaded because of Yvonne’s sensitivity).
At that moment, the sound of tearing fabric reached his ears. Yvonne, having also tumbled down the slope, suddenly seemed to grow larger—a white werewolf emerged beside Rudolph. The pursuing werewolf paused, startled. The white wolf, eager for action, emitted a low growl and charged at the oncoming werewolf. Rudolph’s left hand fired two consecutive shotgun blasts, first taking out two underlings to ensure that they wouldn’t interfere with the white wolf’s assault. This was Yvonne’s first real combat in her Rank‑1 white wolf form, and Rudolph was curious how her abilities differed from those of ordinary gray werewolves.
Unlike typical werewolves that relied solely on their ferocious bite, the white wolf swiped at her opponent with her claw. Her fighting spirit—fueled by an intense, almost palpable hatred—was unmistakable. While the werewolf blocked her claw with its forelimbs, the white wolf, frustrated by the thwarted lethal bite she’d intended for its throat, instead latched on wherever she could. After several probing attacks, she opened her mouth wide and sank her teeth into the werewolf’s shoulder.
To Rudolph’s astonishment, the werewolf convulsed once and then went limp. Peering closer, he discovered that electrical sparks danced in the white wolf’s maw—lightning! It appeared that her bite not only injected lycanthropic poison but also discharged an electric shock, paralyzing the victim completely.
Rudolph stepped back and fired a well-aimed shot at the creature’s head. The bullet’s entry wound sizzled with red heat as it burned through flesh, and the werewolf collapsed dead almost instantly. The attackers, realizing that the combined might of the white wolf and the patrolman was far more formidable than they’d anticipated, hesitated. The one-eyed werewolf among them turned its attention to Rudolph, its cold gaze fixed on him, when suddenly another underling leapt from behind and pinned Rudolph to the ground, its massive jaws clamping onto his throat.
As the one-eyed werewolf charged toward the white wolf, the white wolf’s body—already battered with over a dozen wounds from persistent lycanthropic poison—could barely hold on. Her regenerative power was failing; every bite the werewolves inflicted left traces of poison that slowed her healing further. Then, an unexpected turn occurred: two Rank‑1 werewolves that had previously been dead stirred and crawled up from the ground. To the shock of the others, these reanimated corpses joined the fray, attacking the surviving werewolves with wild, feral aggression. Meanwhile, the last surviving werewolf fixated its gaze solely on the white wolf’s throat, bared its fangs, and lunged with a vicious bite. In the brutal law of the wild, where strength dictates survival, the victor would claim the transformative power of its prey.
Rudolph felt his own manhood being affronted—this was his white wolf, and no one else was to covet her. But he could only continue firing bullets to fend off the relentless attackers. Occasionally, he managed to hit a target, and the werewolf would contort as the bullet was forced out by its muscles, only to rapidly heal once again. The apostolic power of the werewolves had its limits; as long as they were below that threshold, their wounds would mend swiftly. Despair gripped Rudolph as he patted his waist, realizing that despite Sheriff Claude’s generous provision of 18 alchemical rounds, the relentless pursuit had nearly exhausted his ammunition.
From the far side of the trees, yet another werewolf emerged. The white wolf’s pace dwindled further, and during Rudolph’s brief moment to reload his final six alchemical rounds, a werewolf pounced on the white wolf. It bit down ferociously on her front limb, and she immediately lost her balance and fell. As she collapsed, she flung Rudolph aside—other werewolves were closing in fast!
Five Rank‑1 werewolves converged on the white wolf, treating her as if she were the most delectable prey. Rudolph’s heart pounded in his chest, but he had only six precious rounds left. Amid the chaotic melee, Rudolph noticed with dismay that every werewolf bite deposited lycanthropic poison, further hindering the white wolf’s recovery. In a moment of hesitation, the white wolf managed to bite a werewolf’s spine, triggering an electric shock that rendered it immobile. Seizing the opportunity, Rudolph fired a shot at its head; the bullet’s wound glowed with a burning red light, and the creature died instantly.
The werewolves then began to realize that the combined tactics of the white wolf and the patrolman were far more dangerous than they’d imagined. The one-eyed werewolf was the first to react, turning and lunging at Rudolph with a desperate, icy glare. Suddenly, another underling emerged from behind and pounced, slamming Rudolph to the ground once more. The beast’s gaping maw clamped onto his throat, while the one-eyed werewolf, now spurred on by its companions, charged at the white wolf again.
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Despite the chaos, Rudolph managed to aim and fire his gun at the underling pinning him, taking down another werewolf. The reanimated underling he had previously controlled soon detached and rejoined the fray, only to be swiftly swatted aside by a powerful swipe from a larger werewolf. At this point, the remaining attackers began deliberately avoiding the white wolf’s crushing bites; as long as they weren’t bitten by her, they would avoid her paralyzing shock. Instead, they continued to inflict smaller wounds, steadily draining her apostolic energy. Once that energy was exhausted, she would no longer be able to maintain her white wolf form and would revert to a frail human woman.
One werewolf managed to sever the white wolf’s left forelimb; this time, her regenerative power was so diminished that the limb broke off at a haunting angle. Her strength waned further, her defiance giving way to despair. Then, a sudden mutation occurred: two Rank‑1 werewolves that had already died began to stir and crawl up from the ground. In a matter of moments, these reanimated corpses attacked the remaining werewolves, tearing them apart in a frenzied brawl. Meanwhile, the final surviving werewolf fixed its gaze solely on the white wolf’s throat, opening its jaws wide and lunging to bite her neck. In the savage natural order of the wild, where every act of predation was governed by sheer force, the victor would claim the transformative power.
From the treetops, a dense volley of arrows rained down as druids—young and old—launched their assaults on the werewolves. “Can you climb trees?” Rudolph asked while reloading his shotgun. “Yes, I can! I’m very quick at it!” Yvonne replied. Growing up on the farm, tree-climbing was basic entertainment. “But I can’t!” Rudolph lamented, feeling that he was holding her back. “Then climb up like the druids!” he urged.
Nearby, giant bears—controlled by Rank‑1 druids—panted heavily as the druids, perched in trees, fired arrows at the werewolves. This left Rudolph and Yvonne exposed on the ground. Despite the arrows, the open ground remained perilous.
Even though Rudolph repeatedly urged her, Yvonne refused to climb. Instead, she leaned against him, using her shotgun to intimidate any werewolf that dared charge forward. “Run!” Rudolph shouted. He believed the werewolves were targeting the Elk Tribe and might ignore them. Yvonne, on the other hand, wanted to flee at all costs since transforming in the druid tribe was challenging for her. Rudolph commanded, “You lead—avoid the alpha’s direction!” Knowing that Yvonne could identify the alpha’s howl, they focused on escaping without drawing its attention.
Soon, Yvonne pinpointed the weakest spot in the werewolf circle. “There! Fewer werewolves over there!” Bullets flew wildly; in the chaos, Yvonne managed to take down two werewolves. Rudolph couldn’t tell if they were Rank‑1 or mere underlings. The werewolves moved quickly—Rudolph needed five or six shots just to hit one’s snout. Once a gap was created, they made a hasty escape. As predicted, once they broke free, the main werewolf force turned its attack toward the druid settlement, intent on seizing territory. Some werewolves began scaling tree trunks, while others smashed against the large trees that supported the druid treehouses. The weight of the treehouses rendered the trees unstable—one druid cried out as he fell, and several werewolves leaped and bit into his body.
“Run!” Rudolph shouted as he saw one werewolf chasing them. A single werewolf with two underlings was less threatening, so they sprinted toward a slope. Rudolph leaped down and tumbled along the incline, rolling so many times he grew dizzy before finally rising. The werewolves pursued relentlessly, and Rudolph reloaded his weapon with measured calm. “If you keep chasing, I won’t be merciful!” he warned, careful not to use words that might offend Yvonne.
Suddenly, he heard the ripping of fabric. Yvonne, also tumbling down the slope, suddenly seemed to grow in size as a white werewolf emerged beside him. The pursuing werewolf hesitated in surprise. The white wolf, emboldened, emitted a low growl and charged at the enemy. Rudolph’s left hand fired two shotgun blasts, taking down two underlings to prevent them from hindering the white wolf’s assault. This marked Yvonne’s first true combat in her Rank‑1 white wolf form, and Rudolph was eager to see how she differed from ordinary gray werewolves.
Unlike typical werewolves that relied solely on biting, the white wolf instead swiped with her claw. Her determination and fierce resolve set her apart—she moved faster, struck harder, and exuded a formidable aura. The werewolf tried blocking her, but after several probing lunges, the white wolf opened her mouth wide and bit viciously into its shoulder. To Rudolph’s astonishment, the werewolf convulsed briefly before going limp. Drawing closer, he noticed electrical sparks flickering from her mouth—an electric shock that paralyzed her victim.
Rudolph then fired a precise shot at the creature’s head. The bullet’s entry wound blazed with red heat as it seared through flesh, and the werewolf collapsed dead. The attackers soon realized that the combined force of the white wolf and the patrolman was far more dangerous than they’d anticipated. The one-eyed werewolf among them turned its focus toward Rudolph, its gaze icy and predatory. Suddenly, another underling lunged from behind, slamming Rudolph to the ground and biting his throat. As the one-eyed werewolf charged toward the white wolf, Rudolph struggled—firing his weapon even as another underling joined the fray. Despite the chaos, Rudolph managed to take down several foes, though many wounds healed quickly under werewolf regenerative powers.
Amid the melee, the white wolf’s strength began to wane as persistent werewolf bites left traces of poison that slowed her healing. One werewolf eventually severed her left forelimb, and her regenerative power faltered so much that the limb broke off at a grim angle. Desperation filled her eyes as a sudden mutation occurred: two Rank‑1 werewolves that had been dead stirred and crawled up from the ground, joining the battle to devastating effect. One surviving werewolf then fixed its predatory gaze on the white wolf’s throat and lunged to bite. In the raw law of the wild, where only the strongest prevail, whoever succeeded in this final act would inherit the transformative power.
From the treetops, a barrage of arrows rained down as druids—regardless of age—joined the fight, targeting the werewolves. “Can you climb trees?” Rudolph repeated to Yvonne as he reloaded, and though she claimed she could, he admitted, “I can’t!” Frustrated, he urged her to climb like the druids. Nearby, giant bears—controlled by the druids—pant heavily, while the druids fired from above, leaving Rudolph and Yvonne vulnerable on the ground.
Despite Rudolph’s urging, Yvonne stayed by his side, using her shotgun to ward off any charging werewolf. “Run!” he shouted, convinced these werewolves were focused on the Elk Tribe and that by avoiding the Rank‑2 alpha, they might survive. Yvonne soon located the weakest point in the werewolf circle. “Over there—fewer werewolves!” Gunfire erupted; in the ensuing confusion, Yvonne felled two werewolves. Rudolph, needing multiple shots to hit even an underling’s snout, found that once a gap was created, they could flee. As they broke free, the werewolves pressed their attack on the druid settlement, intent on seizing territory.
After a chaotic escape involving intense gunfire, rapid reloading, and desperate maneuvers—including Rudolph’s final use of his alchemical rounds—the battle raged on. The white wolf, embodying both strength and transformation, clashed fiercely with the werewolves. Amid brutal exchanges, some werewolves reanimated and turned on their comrades, while Rudolph’s precise shots and Yvonne’s relentless attacks slowly began to tilt the balance. Despite being overwhelmed and nearly out of ammunition, Rudolph and the white wolf fought with everything they had. Their teamwork, honed through hardship and desperate necessity, proved a formidable force.
As the battle reached a crescendo, the werewolves’ attacks became more cautious, trying to avoid the paralyzing shock of the white wolf’s bite. But Rudolph’s determination did not waver—each bullet fired, each shot counted. In one climactic moment, a well-placed shot at a werewolf’s head, glowing with the heat of alchemical fire, finally brought down a key adversary. The relentless wild law of the forest—where predators fought for survival—prevailed, leaving Rudolph, battered but unbowed, to confront the aftermath of a night filled with chaos, blood, and the raw brutality of nature.