Within a dense stretch of woodland, Theodore finally came to a halt.
He had concealed himself with a Disillusionment Charm and the talent that hid both presence and aura, but even so, his expression had already darkened with disgust.
The entire forest reeked.
A foul, rancid stench lingered in the air, mixed with the metallic tang of blood. It was the sort of smell one would expect in the den of a pack of rabid, flesh-hungry beasts.
And yet the things moving through the woods were not beasts.
They were hooded figures, one after another, their fingernails long and curved like claws.
Werewolves.
All of them.
There were more than twenty in total.
At once, scarlet warning text appeared across the System screen.
[You carefully infiltrate Skull Mountain and discover One-Air Immortal Ma Yuan gathering with a host of wicked cultivators.]
[These wicked cultivators of Skull Mountain are ruthless and vicious, armed with all manner of sinister arts and demonic treasures. They are extremely troublesome.]
[The host has come alone. Two fists may not be enough to fight four hands. Better to summon Nezha, Lei Zhenzi, and the others, then send word to the elders of the Jade Void Palace. Only thus can victory be made certain.]
Theodore ignored the suggestion.
Harry and the others had grown quite a bit through the trials and dangers they had recently faced, but too little time had passed. They were still children.
Werewolves already possessed strong magical resistance. Even outside the full moon, even without transforming, they were not enemies that ordinary students could handle.
More importantly, Theodore had not come here merely to defeat them.
He had come to kill.
And according to the System, if Fenrir truly died, it might draw out something far more troublesome.
If Theodore was alone, that was one thing. With the Golden Crow Rainbow Flight and the Purple-Gold Crown of Auspicious Clouds, even if he ran into something deeply unclean, he had confidence he could preserve himself.
But he could not say the same for Harry, Ron, or Hermione.
Better not to involve them at all.
[The host's resolve hardens, and his gaze grows unshakably firm.]
[We cultivators take it as our duty to slay demons and destroy evil. Now that devils and wicked cultivators stand before me, how could I waste time returning for reinforcements?]
[Moreover, One-Air Immortal Ma Yuan seems tied to a Western Saint. If slaying him truly draws the Saint's wrath, then I alone shall bear it. I will not drag Nezha and the others into it.]
[Your thoughts settle. Your mind becomes clear. Your heart of the path grows transparent. A strand of sword energy within you sharpens further still.]
[I once dared raise my sword against Hongjun himself. A Saint—what of it?]
[In an instant, sword energy surges to the heavens. What a seed of a peerless sword immortal!]
Theodore's cheek twitched.
System… if one's skin were not thick enough, reading that would be genuinely embarrassing.
At that very moment, Fenrir stood at the center of the pack, surrounded like the moon among stars.
His eyes were burning with greed.
"Those little wizards are staying in a manor nearby."
"The black market is offering a fortune for them. Plenty of dark wizards would kill for a chance at this job."
"Lucky for us, they weren't faster than we were—and their noses are nothing compared to ours. They haven't found the children yet."
"If we pull this off, we won't have to worry about food for a long time."
The werewolves had always lived in squalor and hunger.
Many of them had known what it meant to starve.
Even after following Fenrir and beginning to experiment with certain… alternate forms of food, their situation had improved only somewhat. Whenever Aurors hunted them, they still often had to vanish into hiding and go without.
So when Fenrir spoke, the surrounding werewolves erupted into a low, excited clamor.
Their eyes gleamed with greedy green light like a pack of true wolves scenting blood.
One of them licked its lips and looked at Fenrir with fawning eagerness.
"Chief… did the bounty say they had to be alive?"
"And if not alive, did it at least say they had to be in one piece?"
Drool began to slide from the corners of its mouth.
"It's been a long time since we tasted children."
"That flavor… smooth, tender, sweet. One bite and it practically melts."
"Can't we have a taste of those little wizards first?"
The other werewolves reacted as if some delicious memory had just been stirred awake in them.
Their expressions grew even hotter, even greedier.
"That's right, chief. Last time we caught that camping Muggle family…"
"The twin girls were incredible. I only got a little bit of meat, but I still haven't forgotten it."
"Women are already delicious, but children are even better. As for little wizards… I've never tasted one before."
"Chief, have you?"
Fenrir listened, and the madness in his pupils began to rise, mingled with raw animal greed.
Droplets of saliva slid from his mouth.
"Little wizards?"
"I've eaten them. More than one."
"The war years were a wonderful time. Back then, if a few wizarding families disappeared, who cared? Those were the happiest days of my life."
"I ate three grown wizards, four witches, and four little wizards. As for Muggles, those were as common as bread."
As he spoke, the frenzy around him thickened. The beast in his eyes rolled and churned.
"That taste… the taste of wizard flesh…"
"It's exquisite. Truly exquisite. Once you've tried it even once, there's no going back."
Then, as if he could no longer suppress the craving, Fenrir ran his tongue slowly over his teeth.
"I was planning to keep it as reserve food."
"But after listening to all of you…"
He grinned.
"I'm hungry too."
Fenrir strode deeper into the trees and reached into the hollow of a large trunk.
From within, he pulled out a bloodstained bundle.
He handled it with a care that was almost reverent, like a miser opening a chest of treasure.
Then the bundle fell open.
A small, pale child's arm slid into view.
Theodore's pupils contracted violently.
Fenrir's eyes flooded with beastly hunger, and he immediately tore into it with his teeth.
The werewolves around him surged forward as well.
None of them dared compete with Fenrir for the main portion, so instead they scrambled desperately for the scraps of flesh and drops of blood that fell to the ground, fighting over them as if they were feasting on the rarest delicacy in the world.
The moment Theodore saw clearly what Fenrir was eating, a faint red haze entered his gaze.
"Animals."
"No. Worse."
"Exterminate the bloodline… yes. That judgment is not unfair at all."
The Disillusionment Charm and his concealment talent vanished at once.
The werewolves who had been lost in their frenzied feast suddenly all turned toward him, greed flaring in their eyes.
"A little wizard?"
"One of the bounty targets?"
"How did he get here?"
"Who cares? I'm starving. He smells incredible."
Fenrir's pack swallowed thickly, one after another, and began advancing on Theodore.
At that moment, an unprecedented killing intent spread through Theodore's heart.
Not for reward.
Not for gain.
Even if slaughtering these filthy beasts gave him nothing at all, Theodore still felt that killing them would itself be a reward.
The world might not be perfect.
But it had no place for creatures as foul as these.
Pure killing intent.
Absolute killing intent.
It burst forth in his heart like a drawn blade.
The talent he had obtained earlier—Clear Sword Heart—became more active than ever before.
Within his Microscopic Heavenly Eye, a streak of blood-red light began to spread.
New text appeared on the System screen.
[Within Skull Mountain, you witness One-Air Immortal Ma Yuan and the other wicked cultivators feasting upon human flesh. White bones lie exposed in the wilds; for a thousand miles no cock crows. Everywhere within Skull Mountain, pale bones cover the earth.]
[In the face of such a scene, there is only killing.]
[Your Clear Sword Heart is stirred. The sword is a path of slaughter. You gain insight into a trace of the Sword of Slaughter.]
At once, in Theodore's hand, a strand of sword energy burst into being.
It shone with a faint crimson light and rang like metal drawn from its sheath.
A peerless sword immortal—
raising his blade against a host of demons.
Send the next chapter whenever you're ready, and I'll keep the terminology, tone, and progression locked to this version.
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