Chapter 29
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 29
Chapter Title: Ambush
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The next day, the carriage continued on peacefully as well.
The horses, in excellent condition, walked faster than usual without so much as a single buck, and they didn't bother the coachman either.
Buoyed by the good mood, Pavilion and the coachman let the horses keep walking until they wanted a rest. Instead of stopping the carriage for a meal, the group simply had a quick lunch inside.
Salty sausages, well-dried jerky, and soft white bread to boot. The bread might start molding in a day or two, so they had to eat it before it was too late.
Thanks to covering more ground than usual, the spot where the carriage halted at nightfall was not far from Pavilion's village at all. It was close enough that they could reach it in an hour or two by carriage. By tomorrow, they should be able to cross into the Empire after passing through the Volterio Kingdom.
The moon hung bright in the sky, and once again, stew bubbled away in the pot.
The five of them, including the coachman, were half-lost in the savory aroma when suddenly a musky stench pierced their noses.
A rancid smell mingled with the distinctive fishy odor of a carnivore.
"What's that smell?"
"Sounds like a pack of wild dogs passing by. We've got fires lit all around, so they won't come this close."
Tae-jin and old man Richer had set fires here and there around the campsite, leaving no room for wild beasts to approach. Humans would trigger the alarm magic, and beasts would be driven off by the flames. It was as safe as could be.
But as he brought the ladle to the stew, the stench grew much thicker, wafting over them. And it had only been a few dozen seconds since he'd first noticed it.
Sensing something off, the group rose from their seats and scanned the surroundings. The smell had now given way to faint sounds of someone stepping on fallen leaves.
And moments later, what entered their sight were the glowing eyes of massive wolves. Their eyes gleamed a sharp yellow.
The wolves' shoulders came up to Tae-jin's chest, and their bodies were easily one and a half times the length of an adult's. Twice the size of the largest dog breeds.
"Are wolves supposed to be that big?"
"Werewolves. The full moon's driven them mad, looks like. Pavilion, didn't you say there were no werewolves around here?"
Old man Richer gave a curt reply before questioning Pavilion, whose fur stood on end in tension.
"There are no werewolves in the western Volterio Kingdom. Only in the east and north. That's why my home village is located in the west—to avoid them."
"Then how did werewolves show up here?"
Unlike the panicking Tae-jin, Garam calmly counted the pairs of eyes.
"Twenty-two eyes. Eleven of them."
Eleven werewolves was the same as eleven calf-sized beasts encircling them—not something to take lightly.
The werewolves' claws were long and sharp as any butcher knife, and even just breathing made their muscles twitch visibly. A single graze from those front paws would tear deep gouges in the flesh; a hit to a vital spot would kill before they could react.
Tae-jin had heard that even orcs were no match for werewolves. But he'd never quite believed it back then. He'd once seen werewolves inside a Gate city, after all.
They'd seemed tough, but nothing special compared to other beastkin. Their height was similar to orcs', and their muscles less developed. He could buy that they could hold their own against orcs, but not that orcs were helpless against them.
Now, seeing werewolves under the full moon, he understood instantly. Their frames—with front paws in place of hands—were far larger than usual, radiating a chilling killing intent. Whether it was real or just Tae-jin's fear, he couldn't be sure.
Old man Richer was visibly tense too. As a war mage, he could unleash maximum firepower under protection, but in a chaotic melee, he was weaker than other mages of his level. The solution came from Garam.
"If you just buy me some time, I can drive them off alone."
"How? No—how long?"
"Five minutes. No, four. Hold them that long. I'll make it quick. But nothing touches my body."
No other options. They'd have to hold them off somehow.
Garam grumbled as he pulled various odds and ends from his coat pockets.
"Not enough sacrifices for this. Gonna suffer after it's done."
Tae-jin, Richer, and Pavilion formed a triangle around Garam and the coachman.
Garam clutched a golden bird feather in his left hand and placed a dripping chunk of meat—pulled from who-knows-where—in his right.
"Here we go. Block them good."
Garam began chanting quietly, in a whisper-like murmur. It didn't suit his face at all, but "gentle as a breeze" fit his voice perfectly.
Thankfully, the werewolves were busy killing the two horses tied to the carriage, buying the group precious time. The horses died horribly, but it gave the five a fighting chance.
'If they finish eating those horses before coming for us, that'll buy four minutes easy.'
Tae-jin erected a fire barrier about four or five meters around them, nearly three meters high. Lacking strong offensive spells, this was the best way to impede their approach.
Old man Richer finished casting his lightning magic and waited. If any werewolf breached the flames, he'd blast it without hesitation.
Garam's voice grew increasingly eerie, like he had two sets of vocal cords—another sound layering over his own in resonance.
The werewolves didn't seem keen on leisurely devouring the horses. They slunk toward the five inside the fire ring, driven not just by hunger but by an instinct to attack and kill—like a cat toying with mice or birds, even when not starving.
They tore bites from the horse flesh, blood glistening on their muzzles.
Tae-jin's eyes fixed on the werewolves' front paws.
Claws like daggers. One swipe, and he'd end up like those fallen horses, sprawled on the ground for the pack to devour bite by bite.
Krrrng—
No cinematic howl like in movies—just the guttural rumble of a predator eyeing prey.
Nothing special, but it froze Tae-jin's body taut. His focus slipped, and the fire ring flickered.
Having finished casting, Richer grabbed Tae-jin's shoulder.
"Snap out of it. Lose focus here, and you're dead meat."
"Old man, teach me some combat spells already...!"
"Ah, right. Sorry. I'll teach you a few once this is over—just stay sharp now."
As Richer's words ended, one werewolf leaped over the fire ring.
'Damn it, these berserk freaks—why aren't they scared of fire?'
Pavilion wedged himself between the werewolf and the group to shield them, while old man Richer unleashed his pre-cast lightning magic.
The flashing bolt veered just past Pavilion's right side and struck the werewolf dead-on.
So swift and precise was the strike that the werewolf didn't even attempt to dodge—it crumpled on impact.
Richer hadn't held back like he would against soldiers. The fallen wolf's eyes rolled back, its fur singed and curled at the tips, faint smoke rising from its body.
"Tae-jin! Shrink the ring!"
Short command, but he got it instantly. Keeping the ring wide like this let more werewolves jump in.
Several outside were backing up for a run, confirming his fears.
He focused and narrowed the ring from over three meters to about one and a half. So close now that hair and eyebrows singed from the heat, but they'd endure for a bit.
As the ring tightened, the fainted werewolf's body caught fire, the stench of burning protein filling the air.
'Do you get charged with murder for killing werewolves?'
Silly thought. Hesitate, and he'd be the one dying, not them.
The remaining werewolves couldn't leap in easily—they'd have to expose themselves to the flames to reach with jaws or paws. But they lingered, pacing restlessly.
As the standoff held briefly, Garam's chant shifted dramatically.
"…!"
Garam's voice spiked high, and the echoing other voice resounded around them. The feather and meat atop his hands vanished into rising black smoke.
In that instant, the werewolves went berserk, turning on each other in hallucinatory frenzy.
"Nice one!"
But when Tae-jin glanced back, Garam was far from okay. His left leg had withered like a mummy's, forcing him to his knees, blood pouring from his mouth like a faucet.
"Hey, what happened?! You okay?"
Garam just coughed up more blood, unable to answer the barrage of questions.
Richer provided the explanation.
"Price of using shamanism without enough sacrifices. Didn't I tell you troll shamans make up shortages with their own bodies?"
Richer picked off the remaining upright werewolves with lightning blasts one by one, while Pavilion smashed a dazed one's skull with a metal rod—no sword on hand, so he'd improvised with his pack's iron frame.
Once all eleven werewolves lay dead, Garam spoke through the blood.
"Pavilion, your village is close, right?"
"Yeah. Not far."
"These weren't all of them. At least twenty more passed through the forest that way."
Pavilion's face hardened as he followed Garam's pointing finger.