Werewolf attack

As the last light of day faded into dusk, Paul sat with the guild master at a nearby table, sharing the tragic story of what had befallen him and his village. The guild master, his face marked with concern, offered his deepest condolences for the loss and congratulated Paul for avenging his village by eliminating the bandits. However, as the conversation shifted to Paul’s encounter with the dragon—his next target—the old man’s demeanor took on the air of an adventurer.

“There’s a legend,” the guild master began, his voice low and deliberate, “about the blood of a crocodile dragon. It’s said to hold the key to crafting the potion of immortality.” His tone grew more serious. “Just a few drops of this rare blood could produce hundreds of small potion vials.”

As he spoke, the fading light of dusk caught the old man’s eyes, a faint hint of longing flickering within them, as though he, too, desired to possess such a vial.

Paul peered at the man, noting his intense fascination with the concept of an immortality potion. Judging by his weathered skin, he could easily have been a century old. His curiosity piqued, he asked, "What exactly are you proposing?"

“I want you to lead my S-rank hunters to the dragon's location so they can extract its blood. I understand that you seek revenge, and I assure you that my S-rank hunters can assist you. Additionally, I will offer you and your brothers 500 gold upon your return,” the guild master insisted.

“I’m sorry, but I don't need your money.” Paul's eyes burned with the fiery determination of a thousand souls, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Each word he spoke resonated with his unyielding resolve to face the beast that had brought so much fear and destruction to his village.

“And I don’t plan on bringing anyone besides my brothers on this,” he added.

Paul was aware of the dangers of involving additional hunters. He feared they might discover his fairy friend, leading to unnecessary trouble. Moreover, they could be tempted to commit evil acts upon learning that the Forest of Timul is blessed by a goddess.

Paul anticipated an argument, knowing that greed can sometimes cloud even the most reasonable judgment. However, contrary to his expectations, the guild master did not seem to be swayed.

Instead, Paul saw a wise and stoic man, his beard flowing like a silver river. After a moment of silence, the old man straightened his posture. His eyes, reflecting years of experience and battles, looked not just at Paul but into his very soul, seeking the truth behind his past.

"Paul," he began, his voice a gentle rumble, "I understand your desire to prove yourself and avenge your home. But pride and passion must be tempered with wisdom. The beast you speak of is no ordinary creature. It has bested many hunters in legend, some with abilities stronger than my own. Your valor is commendable, but it must not blind you to the gravity of the situation."

As Paul and the old man spoke, his brothers, though appreciative of Paul’s confidence in them, felt a mix of awe and concern. They understood the risks of confronting a creature of such notoriety and power with a team of two F-rank and three C-rank hunters. It was no small feat and certainly not one for the faint of heart.

They knew the stakes were high and that failure could mean more than just the end of their lives. Yet, there was something about Paul's unwavering gaze that stirred a spark of hope within their hearts. Perhaps he was right; perhaps they could stand against the monster and emerge victorious.

Paul took a deep, steadying breath, his eyes never leaving the old man. "I am aware of the danger," he said, his voice a blend of respect and steely resolve. "But I believe in my team. We may not be the strongest or the most experienced, but we are united in our purpose. We will strategize, and we will not rest until that beast is no more. Our rank is not a symbol of our limits but of the challenges we are ready to overcome."

The air grew thick with anticipation, the very fabric of the room seeming to hum with the energy of his words. His brothers exchanged glances, and Mrs. Lorry's skepticism slowly gave way to hope. The guild master nodded solemnly, recognizing the strength of spirit that burned within the young man before him.

"Very well," he said at last. "We will provide what resources we can. I shall place my trust in you. Feel free to pursue the task in whichever way you see fit. Simply procure the item I requested, and your group shall be duly rewarded upon successful completion. You shall have our blessings. May the gods of the hunt guide your arrows true and your brothers' weapons swift."

“Don’t worry. Quest or not, I’ll still kill that beast. I don’t plan to fail a second time,” Paul responded.

The old man gazed intently at Paul, seemingly assessing his resolve. "I have another favor to ask if you plan to embark on the dragon quest next week," he said.

"What favor is that?" Paul inquired.

"Do you recall the werewolf incident?" the old man asked.

"Yes, I do. What about it?" Paul replied.

The old man solemnly shared a grim revelation. "You’re not the only one who was attacked by the werewolf that night. In fact, you are the sole survivor of that vicious onslaught. Many lives were lost, and we mourn the souls that perished. Tonight is another full moon, and we fear the worst."

Paul and his brothers were visibly shaken by the devastating news. They murmured among themselves, trying to grasp the gravity of the situation. The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of the revelation hanging in the air.

At that moment, Chris stepped forward, his expression a mix of sadness and anger. "I also requested assistance from the king," he said, his voice tinged with frustration. "But my plea was dismissed. The situation is dire, and the lack of support from the crown has only made our task harder."

"When the werewolf attacks first began, they seemed inconsequential, but now they are causing significant harm, including fatalities. It has been a year since they claimed their first victim," Mrs. Lorry added.

Aside from Paul and Zaell, everyone knew that the werewolf problem had been ongoing for some time. Despite this, the crown had done nothing, dismissing it as a minor nuisance.

The Hunter's Guild had done its best to suppress the werewolf attacks, but without support from the crown, their efforts had been limited.

As the awkward silence settled in, the guild master cleared his throat to regain their attention. "Several groups have been dispatched to address the issue, but their efforts seem insufficient. That’s where you young lads come in."

Paul nodded and then asked earnestly, "What can we do to help?"

"I need you and your team to join the hunt later, especially since your group has managed to eliminate one of these creatures before," the old man explained.

"We will help, but excluding Paul. The healer said he needs to stay in bed for a few more days," Zaell said.

The guild master looked at Paul and grinned. "You look fine to me. I'll go talk to the healer."

Paul grinned back, accepting the mission. This made the two chuckle, and after some idle chatter, the old man finally left the room to speak with the healer.

"We should get going as well. See you outside, Paul," Chris said as he left with Mrs. Lorry.

While Lorry would stay at the Hunter's Guild where it was safer, Chris, like the others, would be participating in the hunt. That’s why he had arrived fully equipped for battle when he visited Paul.

"Bro, are you sure you're okay now? A few minutes ago, you still seemed to be in pain," Jeyel expressed his concern after the visitors had left. The other three brothers nodded in agreement.

"I'm fine, bros. Don't worry about me, right, Black?" Paul asked, turning to his pet for reassurance. Black responded by licking him and wagging his tail.

This made all of them sigh, but they accepted Paul's willingness to participate.

"Then we’d better get ready. I'll prepare my gear for the battle. You guys should do the same," Rhyz declared.

Each of them began preparing for the upcoming battle, carefully organizing their equipment and making sure they had everything they needed. After a few minutes, the healer arrived and gave Paul a pill to boost his energy, confirming that he was fit to go. With the night growing darker, the group decided it was time to depart. Paul left his beloved pet, Black, in the care of the nurse at the office before they all headed out.

Eijay carefully cast a spell to conceal their scent, using the magic word "Taggu." After casting the spell, they cautiously sniffed the air to check if it had worked. Unable to detect anything, Eijay, satisfied with the result, flashed a thumbs-up to the others, confirming the spell had been successful.

Paul and Rhyz led the way, heading up to higher ground for a better vantage point. The two effortlessly ascended to the rooftop of the hospital, with the rest of the group following closely behind.

Once at the top, Paul ascended further into the sky, hoping to gain an even better view. But as he looked down, all he could see was darkness stretching below him. He longed for the night vision possessed by the soldiers from his old village, but readied his bow, prepared for anything that might come.

As they scanned the shadows for any signs of movement, Paul glanced up and noticed the bright moon overhead. Its soft glow seemed to soothe the pain from his chest wound. When he touched his chest, he was surprised to find that the wound had disappeared. Though confused, Paul quickly set the mystery aside and refocused on the task at hand.

Before long, the group dispersed in different directions, each taking a separate position. Rhyz teleported from one building to another, searching for any sign of the werewolf. Meanwhile, Jeyel carefully set a perimeter of shattered ice around his location, positioning the shards to create a distinct noise if stepped on. Eijay conjured tiny, glowing orbs resembling fireflies, softly illuminating the surrounding area. Not far off, Zaell stood in the center, atop his old shield, towering over some of the houses. Armed with his two newly acquired shields, he was prepared to defend any member of the group who might need protection.

As they patrolled the city under the brilliant light of the full moon, their eyes strained to see through the darkness. Suddenly, a chorus of eerie howls echoed in the distance, sending shivers down their spines. The sheer number of howls suggested a formidable force, one capable of bringing the entire city to its knees.

Despite their thorough search, they were unable to pinpoint the source of the haunting sounds. Their movements were so stealthy that even the most seasoned hunter would have struggled to detect them. It became clear that they were up against a cunning and elusive adversary, whose intelligence matched its ferocity.

"Be on your guard, guys!" Rhyz shouted, his voice echoing through the abandoned house. "They could be lurking in the shadows, ready to strike at any moment." With a firm grip on his two guns, his fingers poised on the triggers, he was ready to react to any sudden movement in the dimly lit streets.

Paul, flying higher to gain a better vantage point, scanned the ground below. Suddenly, he spotted something stirring in the shadows. Reacting immediately, he descended swiftly and aimed his weapon with precision at the elusive figure.

But in the blink of an eye, the figure leaped from the darkness and lunged toward Jeyel, who was nearby.

"BEHIND YOU, JEYEL!" Paul bellowed, his voice echoing as he loosed an arrow at the menacing threat. His heart sank as the arrow missed its mark, failing to intercept the beast.

Luckily, Zaell appeared seemingly out of nowhere, just in the nick of time to block the attack with his metal shield. However, despite his efforts, the force of the blow was overpowering, causing both him and Jeyel to be propelled and sent flying.

As they landed, Zaell quickly checked on his friend. "Are you okay, bro?" he asked, extending his hand to help Jeyel stand. Jeyel, though slightly shaken, nodded in response, indicating that he was indeed okay.

The werewolf’s menacing growl reverberated through the air as it prepared to spring toward Zaell and Jeyel. In a swift and daring move, Rhyz teleported next to the beast and unleashed a barrage of bullets. To everyone’s shock, the werewolf’s rapid regeneration instantly healed its wounds, causing the bullets to be expelled from its body. Rhyz quickly teleported to the top of a nearby chimney to reload, realizing the daunting challenge that lay ahead.

"This isn’t like the werewolf we faced in the tavern," he warned his brothers. "This one is far tougher." The gravity of the situation was evident in his words as they prepared to face the formidable beast.

Paul flew lower and shot arrows at the beast. The arrows were so powerful they went through the flesh, creating a large hole and ripping off one of the beast’s limbs. However, the werewolf’s rapid healing allowed it to continue fighting. It lunged to bite Paul mid-air, but Eijay intervened, punching the beast and dislocating its jaw as it fell to the ground.

The haunting wail of the werewolf echoed through the city, instilling a further deep sense of dread in the party. Their unease was justified when the sudden silence was shattered by the ominous sound of cracking ice, throwing them into a panic. As they turned toward the source of the disturbance, they found themselves surrounded by an army of eerie shadows, revealing a menacing pack of werewolves. The air crackled with tension as the party braced for an intense and immediate battle.

Eijay cast a large ball of fire. “BURN IN HELL!” he shouted, incinerating five werewolves at once. He continued to cast the same spell in the same spot, ensuring they couldn’t regenerate.

Jeyel froze three werewolves before slicing them with a thousand cuts. When he saw they were healing, he froze them solid and stabbed their brains with his blade to finish them off.

Rhyz focused all his efforts on aiming for their heads to deal maximum damage, but the werewolves kept regenerating. Running out of ammo, he quickly switched to a larger weapon and unleashed a powerful blast that tore through the upper torsos of two werewolves.

Meanwhile, Zaell parried the wolves' attacks with his two shields, shrinking and restoring them to their original size to confuse the pack. Though the damage was minimal, his tactic proved effective in diverting the werewolves' attention.

Paul followed up on Zaell’s attack, firing arrows aimed at the werewolves' legs, ripping them apart with precision and force. Once he had a clear shot, he took aim at their heads and blasted them open.

The skirmish spiraled into a whirlwind of chaos and destruction. One werewolf after another fell to the relentless onslaught, but just when it seemed like the threat was waning, they inexplicably rose again, as if the very ground itself was birthing these malevolent creatures. Despite the endless wave of enemies, the brothers stood firm—an indomitable barrier of steel and determination amid the flood of darkness.

The battle raged on, a symphony of snarls blending with the thunderous roar of gunfire and the sharp clash of steel against fur. Amidst the turmoil, the party moved in perfect synchrony, each member playing their role with precision, their unity and skill sharpened by countless battles together.

The fight continued until they had vanquished every last foe. Exhausted and wounded, they sought refuge at the top of the city wall. The moon hung high in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the bloodied battlefield. It was clear the sun wouldn’t rise for some time. In the unsettling silence, distant howls echoed through the city, a chilling reminder that danger still lurked.

Shrill cries for help pierced the night, mingling with the fierce clash between hunters and their prey. There was no time to rest; the fate of many hung in the balance. As the night wore on and their injuries worsened, the city became a symphony of horror, with the brothers standing as one of the few defenses between the people and annihilation.

Paul's eyes scanned the horizon, hoping for the first light of dawn. With a bleeding lip, he stood tall, determined. "We must push on," he said, his voice hoarse but resolute.

"The sun is almost here. With its light, we will purge the night of these beasts." His words rallied his brothers, who agreed with him, exchanging tired but determined smiles.