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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: Wolf's Harbor (2)
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- screeeeech!!!!
The watchmen's horns blared from all directions.
It was no wonder, given the horrific scream. Not just someone with sensitive hearing like Fernandez, but the city's watchmen—and anyone else hunting the lycanthrope—must have heard it too.
However, Fernandez possessed a ability that set him starkly apart from the others.
"I smell blood."
-Two of them.
"One's stronger. Let's abandon that direction."
The fishy tang of blood vibrated on the sea breeze. The thicker scent likely marked the murder site or feeding ground. That meant they had to track the one carrying the fainter smell as it moved away.
"What should we say when we meet the master?"
-Pleased to see you, old timer?
"Hmm... that's a bit too cliché..."
Fernandez clicked his tongue as he dashed through the night streets. Alleys flashed by behind him in an instant. It was movement that transcended half of humanity.
Fernandez had already begun to love the overwhelming power of this body.
*
The bastard was faster than expected. This wasn't the path of a wolf driven mad by simple slaughter. He seemed intimately familiar with these alleys. The blood scent in the air was gradually fading.
"Damn it. Looks like he caught on?"
-Seems that way. He's deliberately twisting his trail.
Tracking by scent meant circling the same area muddied the air with lingering traces, making it hard to pinpoint. Fernandez wiped the sweat from his brow and leaned against an alley wall.
Smarter than anticipated. Not just a rabid lunatic. This confirmed it—it was definitely his master's handiwork.
"What now?"
-How about checking the scene?
"The watchmen will be swarming the site by now? Some superstition about the culprit always returning?"
-It could be superstition, or there might be traces they missed.
Fair enough—there could be clues the watchmen overlooked. It wasn't a bad idea. But... Fernandez gazed down the dim night street and smiled.
"There's a professor who specializes in this sort of thing."
-Picking up scraps isn't bad.
From between the alley shadows, leather-clad figures swayed like shadows approaching. Fernandez raised his hand high and waved.
"Ah, Karl. We meet again?"
"Sir Angelo. Coincidence?"
It was Professor Carlo Mano Pavilos. Karl raised his silver longsword, gleaming coldly toward Fernandez.
"I'd like to think so."
"Not a coincidence. I'm chasing the bastard too."
"A wandering knight outpacing me on the trail... quite the tale, isn't it?"
"Confidence is good, but that view's not pretty."
He had every reason to be arrogant. Professor Carlo Mano Pavilos, the youngest full professor at the Royal Hunting School and a trophy hunter who'd been slaying monsters in the field for five years.
Seeing an unfamiliar outlander knight moving faster than him in a lycanthrope pursuit, Karl's thoughts were obvious.
"So, you want to team up in the end?"
"You'd want to tag along with me too, right?"
"True, that'd be more certain."
Karl's eyes flashed sharply as he glared at Fernandez. If Fernandez were the lycanthrope, keeping him close would be the surest way to hunt him.
A bit risky and annoying, but to Karl, a rabid victim was more nuisance than threat.
"I've lost the trail here. Karl, which way's best?"
"Well, how about suspecting the man at the trail's end?"
"If he's really the lycanthrope, he'll admit he's the beast? Cut the wordplay—we're wasting time."
"Hmm. Logical."
Karl smirked and tapped the wall with his sword tip.
"You're saying the trail ends here—based on what?"
"The scents mixed here."
"Tracking by smell? Getting more beastly... but fine. Direction's about right."
-scraaaape.
Karl dragged his blade along the stone wall as he spoke. Sparks flew from the scraping steel. At the tip of his sword's direction stood a bell tower.
"Everyone's eyes are fixed low. If I were the lycanthrope, I'd climb up high to hide."
"Why?"
"People don't look higher than themselves. Most monsters hiding in civilized society exploit that."
"So the rabid victim has reason?"
"If he had no reason, he'd have been caught the first night. It's been five days, five kills—no reason would be the odd part."
Fernandez eyed the bell tower. Climb the walls and hide? No one would spot someone scaling it at night with the naked eye.
"Plus, I've checked every tower he could hide in, one per day. That's the last one left—if he's not there, back to the drawing board."
Fernandez nodded. Karl chuckled dryly, loaded a quarrel into his crossbow, and cranked the windlass. He and Fernandez headed toward the tower.
Moonlight was the alley's only illumination. In the dark passage, Karl's blade and Fernandez's eyes glinted.
*
"Ugh, urk, grrrk."
Balian stared down at his blood-soaked hands and sobbed. When night fell and the moon rose, he was devoured by the monster lurking beneath his skin.
Every night, the monster ripped out a throbbing heart and swallowed it. Time crawled when it ran, raced when it tore hearts from corpses.
In that bizarre temporal haze, Balian wept in agony.
"Heh heh heurk... heuk..."
The pain of the monster clawing through his skin was excruciating. But when it chewed arteries and snapped tendons...
Monster and Balian howled together in ecstasy. In that horrific soul-wail, they became one.
A loathsome kinship worthy of a thousand curses. His mind was slowly merging with the monster.
He felt the assimilation rate climbing day by day. Balian licked the cold blood of his victim from his hands, sobbing.
"Gods of the Holy Pantheon... gods..."
Balian had been a devout parishioner, tithing weekly and toiling diligently for his family. At least until he devoured a priest's brains or tore out his family's hearts. Now, family and faith were gone.
"Your god can't help you, Balian."
"Heuk... hngh..."
From the wall's corner, a robed man emerged from the shadows. He whispered low into Balian's ear.
"But I can."
"Keurk... I... I'm..."
"You're chosen, Balian. Chosen as a predator. Your transformation is a blessing. Embrace it fully. What you ate weren't kin—they were prey, your quarry. Look down below."
Balian blankly followed the man's finger to the street. Far off, watchmen scurried with torches.
Faint lights from tightly shut windows, the harbor street along the distant shore.
Tiny as ants, pitiable.
"Behold those vermin. How could they be your kin? Look, Balian. Open your eyes. They're the ones hunting you. Now know this—you're not prey, you're the hunter."
"Kru... kruk..."
The man was right. None of them could run faster or bite harder than Balian. Their teeth were weak, their grips frail. Balian was superior to them all.
"Keurk... grrr."
"Bite. Swallow. Chew. And in every moment, remember one thing. Remember your father. Your father, the great hunter Yekaset..."
Yekaset. Rolling the name in his mouth made his heart and muscles pulse violently.
The monster beneath his skin rampaged anew. His bloodshot eyes dilated, thick saliva dripped from his fangs.
Balian's muscles swelled massively. Tendons coiled like snakes around his forearms.
"Grrrrr!"
"Heh heh... go, Balian. Offer sacrifice for Yekaset."
Balian hurled himself out the window. The man watched, laughing.
"Yekaset's holy blood numbers seven. Two more through his hands, and we'll find the third seal orb..."
*
- Awoooooooo!!
"...Huh?"
Fernandez and Karl halted en route to the bell tower as a howl like tearing the night sky erupted. It sounded like dozens of wolves baying in unison—a gruesome chorus.
"Location?!"
"East!"
Fernandez pinpointed the direction and bolted, shouting. Karl hurriedly chased.
"Wh-what footwork!"
Fernandez charged like a warhorse. Each step echoed with heavy thud proportional to his leg strength. He vanished around the alley corner in seconds, widening the gap.
"Damn it!"
Karl panted after him. Confident in his endurance over most men, he was still outmatched—Fernandez's sprint speed far exceeded expectations.
"That's not a lycanthrope? Then a troll?"
Karl stared blankly in the direction Fernandez vanished, then ran.
*
- Awoooooooo!!
"Keuk... keuk..."
Balian ripped the heart from a watchman's chest and wept. He felt it pulse in his grip. His tears were drops of pleasure diluted with faint sorrow and pity.
"Forgive... forgive... grrrk..."
Balian struggled to form words with his bizarrely protruding lycanthrope jaw. Saliva dribbled down his chin.
No longer did a monster lurk beneath his skin. What writhed there was Balian himself. Realizing that brought strange glee.
-crunch.
Balian crushed the heart and licked the flowing blood. Hot fresh gore slid down his throat like sweet nectar.
"Hey. Still human in there? How many've you killed?"
"Grrk?!"
Then, a man spoke from behind. Balian backed away warily from the sudden intruder, close enough to touch. How had he approached undetected?
"How many murders is this?"
The man—Fernandez—advanced slowly toward the crouching, wary Balian.
"Grrr..."
"Just a bit. Hold still."
Fernandez lunged at Balian like lightning. Balian flailed in panic, but Fernandez was already inside his guard.
-bam!
"Keng!"
Fernandez's short jab hammered Balian's gut. No time to react—an inch punch! Balian's left arm twisted, claws slashing toward Fernandez's head.
-thwack!
"Hngh!"
Fernandez extended his wrist to block the left hand. Long claws dug deep into his forearm. Blood spurted.
Bracing under the spray, Fernandez clamped Balian's muzzle shut.
"Krulp?!"
"Here we go?"
-bang! bang! bang!
Fernandez swung the gripped muzzle, slamming it into the wall. Monstrous strength.
Balian dug his legs into the ground with lycanthropic power to resist, but strength ebbed from his body.
-bang! bang!
"Keuk! Kraak!"
Immense impacts battered Balian's head in succession.
No—slammed his head into the wall!
Fernandez released the now-shortened muzzle and stepped back.
-thud.
Balian crumpled limply. He curled fetal, trembling. Fernandez stroked his profusely bleeding right arm.
As a Demonica, no risk of rabies infection, but the disease-ridden wounds wouldn't clot easily.
"Can you talk now?"
"Ugh... it hurts... hurts."
"Good, you're coming to your senses. What's your name?"
Balian looked up with eyes soaked in fear and pain.
"Balian... sir. And you...?"
"A priest. How many did you kill?"
"Five... five. No, six. Six people..."
Balian sobbed. Reason returning brought misery and guilt squeezing his soul. Fernandez approached his head slowly.
"Not seven yet—your soul can still be saved, Balian. Can you repent on your own? Any god you believe in?"
"Sea... MacLeren."
"I'm a priest of Beitasser, but as a Holy Pantheon priest, I'll administer the rites. Lost lamb of the Pantheon, Balian—confess."
"...I killed my parents. Killed Father MacLeren... and others. Ate five corpses, swallowed six hearts."
Balian wailed over irredeemable sin. Fernandez had seen countless like him. Demonic corruption always eroded civilization thus.
First coerced, then accidental. Hands soaked in blood, no way back.
But luckily, this lycanthrope's soul still had salvation—before the seventh heart, before Yekaset's blessing... demonic fall.
His killing spree stopping here was near-miraculous. Fernandez drew a portable censer from his robes—standard issue for Demonica inquisitors on ops.
-That's not for that...
'Rites are theater. Placate the flock with something convincing.'
Fernandez ignited the censer, wafting smoke. He held it over Balian's brow. The lycanthrope's keen nose protested.
"Kuuk..."
"Balian. Do you confess your sins and repent?"
"I'm sorry. Sorry... sorry..."
"Holy Pantheon, bless this one. Here, MacLeren's devotee returns to the fold."
Fernandez traced the sign on Balian's forehead and removed the censer. As he slowly drew his blade, Balian nodded.
No will to live left in him; Fernandez had the inquisitor's duty to slay a lycanthrope capable of a seventh kill.
"Gian-Kel... the old priest, Father. Beware that old man."
"Thanks. You've helped greatly."
"...Macto supelau."
"Macto, brother."
-crunch!
Fernandez's blade scattered moonlight in the dark alley. He stood motionless for a while.
-Sincere confession? The rites, I mean.
'Sending Yekaset's designated hunter proxy back to the Holy Pantheon's arms? Perfect salt in the wound for the master. Feizashi won't get demonic blessings for a while after this failure.'
-Hmm...
Fernandez eyed Balian's severed head, then sheathed his blade with a flourish.
'But playing priest isn't bad either.'
He closed Balian's eyelids and rose. Watchmen approached from afar.
Fear of lycanthropes delayed their response despite the time passed. Fernandez slipped away, evading them.
'Gian-Kel. Master. Keep that mystic sight safe.'
An inquisitor would come looking.
***
From the alley mouth where they vanished, Karl emerged slowly. He pondered, staring after Fernandez.
Overwhelming combat prowess and authority for last rites as a Beitasser priest. Only one possibility fit.
'An inquisitor.'
Devil, heretic, witch hunters. Beitasser's hounds. Karl dropped his suspicions of Fernandez. But not the rivalry.
'Royal Hunting School doesn't lose hunts.'
Hearing "Gian-Kel" put him on equal footing with the inquisitor. Karl slipped from the alley.
'Count the lycanthrope hunt lost once—win the black mage hunt instead.'
The Royal Hunting School curriculum under Fairn teaches bounties, fugitives, and criminal hunts.
*