When Ulu opened his eyes again, the fear and pain that had twisted his face were gone, replaced by… excitement.

Because the one in control of the body now wasn’t Ulu, but Hiroshi.

After being here for days, Hiroshi finally had a body he could control—not just a single finger. He could now feel every part of the body and move it easily. What was once a normal sensation for any human had become something Hiroshi hadn't experienced in quite a while.

All this time, no matter how hard he tried, Hiroshi could only make the finger stand up straight—again and again, like some pitiful attempt at defiance.

But now things were different. He had an entire body, even if only temporarily.

However, there was no time to celebrate. Charging toward him now was the figure, already in mid-air, wolf head wide open, jaws ready to snap.

Hiroshi looked up, locking eyes with the wolf head.

The scene was all too familiar—nothing to fear. As the wolf head lunged for his skull, Hiroshi didn’t dodge right away. Instead, he silently counted in his mind—one, two.

At the count of three, Hiroshi shifted slightly to the left, taking a quick sidestep that let him narrowly avoid the wolf head's fangs.

With a loud “thud,” the wolf head crashed into the floor, splintering wood and raising a cloud of dust.

In an instant, Hiroshi, who had seemed cornered, was free. Now, he stood calmly to the side, watching the attacker who had just moments ago appeared to have the upper hand but now looked a bit disheveled.

“Roger the Biter,” Hiroshi said leisurely. “I got that right, didn’t I?”

Roger stepped out of the dust cloud, glaring at Hiroshi. “Who are you? How do you know my name?”

Hiroshi laughed. “Oh, I’m an old acquaintance of yours, but you wouldn’t recognize me.”

An old acquaintance… who didn’t know each other?

It sounded strange, but what struck Roger as stranger than the words was Hiroshi himself.

This bar was a secret cult hideout, never used before. Roger had been sent here because the cult learned that Visah'Su’s finger had appeared at this location. His movements should have been entirely secret. Yet upon arriving, he found Hiroshi, and also a corpse lying on the table. Roger didn’t know who the dead person was, but the priest’s robes suggested he was from the Rhyo faith.

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And who was this man?

Had he killed the priest? Why leave the body here? Was he waiting for Roger?

What confused Roger even more was that, initially, the man had seemed like a coward—weak, easily overpowered. If Roger hadn’t wanted to understand who he was before killing him, the man would have died in the first encounter.

But now… or rather, just now, this guy had effortlessly dodged his attack.

And at the last possible moment, too, which made Roger uneasy.

Roger’s downward lunge wasn't easy to avoid. If the target dodged too early, the wolf head would follow, refusing to let go until it bit down. That was why they called him Roger the Biter.

But this move wasn’t entirely unavoidable. If someone dodged at just the right distance from the wolf head, they could evade it. The wolf head, being quite large, needed a buffer distance to change direction.

But judging that distance was tricky. The closer it was, the less room for error—any hesitation, and the wolf head would bite down, trapping the target. Even those who knew about this weakness were hesitant to try dodging it, let alone anyone unaware that the wolf head could follow them.

Yet this man had dodged it casually, almost like he was counting in his head. He stood there as if he knew Roger well enough to gauge the attack distance perfectly.

Combined with the “old acquaintance” comment, it made Roger uneasy.

Was it luck, or…

Roger didn’t dwell on it long. He launched a second attack.

If it was luck, he’d soon find out.

The wolf head lunged down again, like a starving wolf on the hunt.

And Hiroshi, just like before, waited until the last second before dodging—once again effortlessly avoiding the attack.

It wasn't a coincidence.

Roger realized it immediately.

This guy either had incredibly high-level combat skills and saw through his moves instantly, or he knew Roger well.

Roger decided to test him further.

All this happened in a flash.

After the wolf head hit the floor again, Roger didn’t pull back immediately. Instead, he used his wolf-headed right hand to support himself and kicked at Hiroshi.

Compared to the wolf-headed right hand, the kick looked harmless.

And Hiroshi seemed to think so too, focusing all his attention on Roger's right hand.

Got him!

Roger felt a surge of triumph.

In the next moment, the wolf head on his right hand disappeared, transforming back into a regular hand.

And the leg he had kicked out at Hiroshi suddenly turned vicious.

“Roar!”

In an instant, Roger's right leg turned into a wolf head, the gaping maw now at such close range that it seemed impossible for Hiroshi to avoid it.

Let me tear through your shoulder—then I’ll see who you really are!

Roger screamed internally.

Then, he saw Hiroshi casually kick out, his foot connecting lightly with Roger's right hand.

The right hand that was supporting his entire body, no longer wolf-headed.

Naturally, Roger lost his balance and, with a loud “thud,” crashed to the ground, kicking up even more dust and splinters than before.

… He had completely faceplanted.

Hiroshi, meanwhile, stepped back to a safe distance, still looking relaxed.

Roger quickly scrambled to his feet, glaring furiously at Hiroshi. “Who the hell are you?! How do you know so much about me?!”

“That’s a hard question to answer,” Hiroshi said, shrugging. “But I know you well enough—I can’t even count how many times I’ve beaten you, without a scratch.”

Roger: “What?”