The three Cerberus women, Katina, Labda, and Cilla, had all fallen asleep on top of the hummer as Rolf drove towards the coast. It was late morning, and they had been on the road for hours. Rolf was driving, while Roger sat beside him, finding it hard to fall asleep despite the engine noise and bumpy ride.

As he yawned, he looked at Rolf and asked, "Can you tell me how you became a werewolf?"

Rolf kept his eyes on the road as he began to recount his story. "It was a long time ago… I was a barbarian warrior in Scotland when the English invaded. I tried to help my people, but we weren't strong enough. After I escaped from a losing battle, I encountered a wolf. Not just any wolf... You can probably guess."

Roger nodded, indicating that he understood. "Um-hum."

"The wolf bit me and turned me into what you saw," Rolf continued. "When my first full moon rose, I massacred an entire English campsite. I thought my power would be a great benefit for my people. But I attacked them too for blood and hunger. I caused so much death that it drove my people insane. They soon hunted me down like a monster until I fled to protect them and myself. As an immortal, I could go anywhere without dying. So I explored the world as much as possible for many years. I managed to control my power when I visited a secret monk temple in China."

Roger looked amazed. "Wow... You visited different cultures and learned many things while you kept your Scottish accent?"

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Rolf laughed and steered the hummer into a forest. The road was clear but still bumpy. "I love my accent, lad. It helps me to never forget where I truly came from. Of course, I avoided England until they allowed the Scottish to visit. Nobody else cared about my accent."

"What was it like being immortal?" Roger asked.

"Amazing...and torture..." Rolf grimaced. "Pain will always stay with you, even if you can't die. I met many people whom I enjoyed my time with. Some were lovers too. Now they're all gone like a fading memory. Time moves a lot faster while you live through it, and sometimes adapting to new ages can be difficult. All I ever did was survive until I studied the supernatural."

"Is that how you established Section 8?"

Rolf turned to avoid a tree. "I didn't invent Section 8. The government did during World War 2. When they found me and discovered what I am, they offered me the job to command their agency. With so much knowledge from the past, I helped them hunt and discover new creatures. So far, I have never failed my superiors."

"What convinced you to study the supernatural?"

"For one, to find a cure. I learned that werewolves originated from a beast named Lycaon. He was a Greek king who sacrificed one of his sons and served his flesh to Zeus. The god didn't like his offering and turned him and his family into half-wolf monsters. I'm sure you've heard that myth."

Roger shrugged. "I'm rusty with mythology."

"You're in one now, lad." Rolf chuckled. "I hoped to find Lycaon and use his blood to cure my curse. Unfortunately, I never did. Either he's dead, or he found a damn good hiding spot to avoid hunters. I gave up, but it didn't stop me from studying the monsters. Instead of fearing my curse, I used it to fight evil creatures to protect the innocent. Nobody should suffer like how I have suffered. It was all I could do in my shitty eternal life."

Roger's heart sank at the thought of what he was about to do. The quest to defeat Eris, the goddess of chaos, had brought him to this moment, where he had to choose between immortality or mortality.

What if he lost his sanity after living for centuries? What if the world changed so much that he couldn't recognize it anymore?

Rolf stopped the truck. "We're here. Let's find that damn tree inside the mountain."

Roger nodded, but his mind was still consumed by doubts.