Chapter 7
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 007
Chapter Title: Wolves (3)
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A strange standoff dragged on.
The wolves hesitated to charge in. Though they'd been driven by the enraged werewolf to surround Woojin, they were in the exact same bind—no good choices.
Attack and die, flee and die. Caught in this no-win dilemma, the wolves were sandwiched between Woojin and the werewolf, paralyzed and going nowhere.
Meet the wrong boss, and life gets rough like this. But every group has its clever middle manager.
"...That one looks familiar somehow."
Woojin suddenly narrowed his eyes. Amid the encirclement, there was one wolf that rang a bell.
A particularly massive red-furred wolf. Unlike the others, it had two long tentacles sprouting from its back—a higher variant that had undergone more mutations.
Where had he seen that one before? After a moment's thought, Woojin recalled it.
'The one from last time.'
The stray dog he'd spotted gnawing on bat wings. The one that had spat out the food he'd generously shared.
As Woojin stared intently at the red wolf, the surrounding wolves clustered protectively around it. It seemed to play some mid-level leadership role in the pack.
'Gotta take that one down first and interrogate it.'
Kill the one holding the pack's command, and things would get easier. With that judgment, Woojin took a step forward...
Pababak—!
Sensing the killing intent, the red wolf shoved its comrades aside and bolted. At a speed so fast its legs blurred. The werewolf and wolves gawked at it in stunned silence.
The absurdity made Woojin chuckle.
'What a clown... sly as hell, too.'
The red wolf had figured fleeing now beat becoming Woojin's target—increasing its survival odds.
And it was the right call, really.
There was only one werewolf. Chasing down every deserter was impossible.
The other wolves caught on too, glancing around warily. The mood grew restless. The werewolf tried to reassert discipline, but it was too late.
The wolves scattered in all directions, fleeing. The furious werewolf gave chase. A few unlucky ones got snagged in its vicious claws and torn apart.
'Total chaos.'
Woojin smirked as he watched. They were beating each other senseless. What a mess.
The farce only ended when the werewolf stood alone. Still fuming, it let out a howl before turning its gaze on Woojin.
It needed a punching bag, apparently.
Its eyes gleamed coldly. Then its glare stretched long and narrow.
Thud, thud, thud!
It charged. The werewolf's bulk accelerated with each ground-shaking stride. Suddenly, it stomped and leaped.
Its massive, bear-like frame soared into the air. A shadow of death loomed over Woojin.
Woojin hurled himself sideways.
Kwaaang!!
The werewolf crashed down, slamming its fist into the earth. A deafening boom, and the ground cratered. Woojin, barely dodging, spat out the dirt that had gotten in his mouth.
'Fast, and strong.'
Strength hard to believe came from a living thing. Beasts that survived long in the Demonic Realm possessed abilities beyond common sense.
Hunting other Demonic Realm lifeforms, severing their breath, consuming their blood and flesh—it birthed new power each time. Greater muscle, quicker feet, tireless stamina...
The werewolf had ruled as apex predator here, slaughtering countless beasts. The strength and skill accumulated over ages were downright threatening.
Shiiik—
A chilling whoosh of wind.
Woojin reflexively raised his shield. The werewolf's suddenly elongated claws raked across it.
Creeeak!
The shield split along the claw marks like a joke. Even accounting for it being wooden, the power was insane.
The werewolf lunged again.
To evade the onslaught, Woojin backpedaled nonstop, eyes locked on the enemy. Claws whistled past him repeatedly.
The werewolf pressed its one-sided assault. Then Woojin tilted his head quizzically. What he felt wasn't danger, but doubt.
'...Does this thing have no other tricks?'
Its confident demeanor suggested it was top dog around here.
Climbing that high in the Demonic Realm's food chain required diverse skills. Yet no matter how long he waited, all it used was this claw-extension gimmick.
Was it masterful psychological warfare, or just incompetent? Hard to say.
'Time to test it.'
Woojin gripped his machete tight. Fingers clenched like he was squeezing juice from it. He swung, parrying the attack head-on instead of dodging.
Clang!!
Blade met claw in an explosive shower of sparks. The one pushed back was the werewolf. It staggered a few steps, eyes bulging.
Seemed genuinely shocked to lose a straight power clash...
But honestly, not surprising at all.
'In raw strength, of course I'm stronger.'
Hunt Demonic Realm lifeforms, gain power. That applied to Woojin too.
His past self had crossed countless brushes with death deep in the Demonic Realm. He'd hunted mighty foes, devoured their blood and flesh to build strength. Even stumbled on a few lucky breaks.
Could a local boss playing king in the boonies overpower a man who'd clawed out from the depths?
'I was overly cautious.'
Having sized it up, Woojin charged. The werewolf swung its claws to block. Same old move he'd seen plenty of.
He parried the claws with his machete and sidestepped right. From the werewolf's view—missing one eye—it must've looked like Woojin vanished.
It had to react to sound now, but fresh off losing its eye, it lacked the savvy.
From its blind spot, Woojin slashed. The blade carved into the werewolf's left knee.
"Graaaargh!!"
The werewolf bellowed, sweeping its arm left. But by then, Woojin was already behind it. Another swing gashed the back of its right knee.
Both legs crippled, the werewolf crumpled forward. It collapsed prone, heaving ragged breaths.
It looked up at the human facing it. Woojin's expression was utterly indifferent. Like he was just checking if a pig's head had boiled right.
Only then did the werewolf realize it was mere prey.
Slice!
The machete grazed its throat. The headless wolf corpse flopped limply into the dirt.
Woojin nudged it over with his foot. Then he sliced open the chest with his dagger. Reaching under the ribs, he groped around.
'...Here it is.'
He pulled his hand out. In it was a red, walnut-sized lump. Roundish, bumpy surface.
This bizarre object pulsed like a heartbeat. As if alive...
The werewolf's inner core.
Long-lived beasts in the Demonic Realm formed these. Crystals born of accumulated Demonic Realm power. Woojin popped it into his mouth without hesitation.
Crunch, cruuunch—
He chewed it up. Now a portion of the werewolf's lifelong power dwelled in him.
Not particularly tasty. Fishy, with a tough, rubbery cartilage texture.
Meal done, Woojin wiped the blood from his body with a handkerchief. His gaze lingered on the cabin.
'Wonder if Hector's still kicking.'
He headed over to check.
Pushing the door open revealed the haggard hunter. Eyes closed, Hector sat leaning against the wall, still as stone.
To check if he lived, Woojin snapped his fingers. Hector's eyelids twitched at the sound.
'Tough bastard, hanging on.'
Empty potion vials and bandages littered the floor. Looked like Hector had done hasty first aid but collapsed from exhaustion.
'Potions have nasty side effects, huh.'
Wound-healing potions.
Not handy game items. Using them brought intense pain and dizziness during recovery, he'd heard.
Woojin had never tried one, so he couldn't gauge the pain. Could only imagine.
'Like rubbing Albo7 on a mouth ulcer, maybe.'
If it floored an experienced hunter, it had to be at least that bad.
Emptying a whole bottle suggested Hector had been desperate.
Probably saw Woojin facing the wolves outside and chugged it to rush out and join—then passed out.
'He'll pull through.'
Though unconscious, the potion seemed effective. Breathing steady. A good rest, and he'd wake.
Woojin laid him flat, then stepped back out. Mountains of work ahead.
'Gotta clean up those wolf corpses from earlier.'
Rotting bodies stank horribly and drew other local beasts.
So Woojin got busy.
Decent-looking wolf corpses got skinned; worthless ones hauled far off. With so many dead wolves, it was a chore.
About two hours later.
Halfway done, the cabin door flew open. Hector stumbled out, eyes wide as he scanned around.
"...What the hell?"
He muttered in bewilderment. His gaze soon fixed on Woojin.
"All these wolves... you took them down solo?"
"Strictly speaking, they killed each other off. Werewolf made a lousy leader."
"What about that one? After you took its eye, it wouldn't back down easy."
"Hanging over there."
Woojin nodded toward the drying rack. A massive werewolf pelt dangled from it.
Hector blinked repeatedly, like he couldn't trust his eyes. He approached silently and touched the pelt.
"...Unbelievable. Never thought my revenge would end like this."
"Bad blood with it?"
"Nothing special. Just knew a few folks it ate. Common enough these days."
Hector explained flatly, then clammed up. No interest in spilling his life story.
Woojin had nothing else to say either. Still, something felt called for, so he spoke.
"What's next for you?"
"Dunno... never thought that far."
The old hunter hadn't planned post-revenge. After a pause, he counterasked.
"What's your goal?"
Topic he'd mulled that very morning—no hesitation.
"Just wanna live easy, having fun. No worries, total comfort."
"Not hard at all."
"Really?"
In this dark fantasy world, living carefree seemed off-base. But Hector's reply was unexpectedly positive.
As Woojin looked puzzled, Hector nodded at the werewolf pelt.
"Bounty on that thing's neck alone tops forty gold coins. Enough to loaf six, seven years easy."
"Uh... come again?"
...This scrub was worth that much?