Outside the dungeon.
"We're here." Wolver suddenly turned around, only to see Schneider looking completely normal, with nothing unusual about either his appearance or expression.
For some reason, a powerful sense of unease suddenly rose in his chest.
"Then let's go in." The corners of Schneider's mouth curled up. The skin at the corners of his eyes split slightly, and something seemed to be writhing beneath his skin.
He slowly walked forward, his body twisting strangely as he moved.
Wolver's unease grew stronger and stronger. Watching Schneider's bizarre movements, he instinctively backed away and shouted, "Schneider, damn it, what the hell is wrong with you?"
Schneider seemed unable to hear him. He staggered forward, the flesh on his body swelling rapidly, and then with a boom, he exploded on the spot, flesh and blood flying everywhere.
Warm, wet gore splattered all over Wolver. Fear pierced straight through his reason like a spike.
"Ahhhh!" he screamed as he charged up the stairs, never noticing that from the heap of seemingly harmless flesh, writhing vines were creeping into the dungeon.
One after another, the twisting vines crawled into the dungeon.
Following the blood on the floor, they made their way toward Chercy and the others, who were covered in serious injuries.
When they reached them, they pierced seed after seed full of vitality into their arms.
The seeds took root the moment they entered, sprouting and growing at high speed. They developed rapidly beneath the werewolves' flesh while using the plants' life force to quickly heal their wounds.
Before long, the werewolves began waking up one after another.
After mastering the ability to transform into a werewolf at will, they could retain part of their werewolf physical qualities even in human form, so Chercy woke up the fastest.
The pain from before she had blacked out was still vivid in her mind, and the moment she woke, Chercy struggled instinctively.
Yet the sturdy chains were now as fragile as tofu. With just that one unconscious struggle, they shattered inch by inch.
Without the chains supporting her, Chercy fell to the ground, and the pain cleared her head.
The unfamiliar surroundings left her dazed for a long while before she finally came back to herself. She looked around, and her memories slowly surfaced.
She and her subordinates had walked into an ambush and been captured by unfamiliar wizards. After that, a strange werewolf had interrogated her about the Wolfsbane Potion formula...
So that was where the blood on the floor had come from?
Chercy stared blankly at the blood flowing in from outside the dungeon and the strange crawling traces the vines had left across the floor. After a long pause, she suddenly came back to herself.
Damn it, this wasn't the time to be in a haze.
Chercy immediately snapped fully awake, anger surfacing on her lovely face.
She pushed herself up from the floor, then froze when she felt the strength coming back through her hands.
As a werewolf who had always taken Midgard as her model, Chercy had never once slacked off in training. It was not just magic. Her close-quarters combat skills were formidable as well.
She trained hard every single day, all to match the explosive physical strength she gained after transforming into a werewolf.
So she understood her own strength extremely well. But the power in her arms now felt unfamiliar.
At first, she thought the torture of the past few days had thrown off her control over her own body. But very quickly, she realized it was because her strength had increased by leaps and bounds.
And it was not just her strength.
Chercy looked down at her fair, slender hands. No one knew better than she did what they had looked like before. Calluses, scars, all the traces left behind by blood and sweat. They could be called proof of strength, but as a beautiful woman, there was no way Chercy did not care about them. She simply never showed it.
But now she suddenly realized that the scars and calluses she had always disliked were gone. Faced with a pair of almost perfect hands, even she was momentarily dazed.
Very soon, though, a wave of startled cries snapped her out of it.
"My injuries are healed?"
"Mine too!"
"Didn't you feel it? I feel way stronger now!"
"It's not just strength. Even my magic has increased!"
The werewolves whose injuries had healed one after another broke free of their chains and stared at the changes in themselves in astonishment.
Seeing that all her men were awake, Chercy quickly hid the joy in her eyes and shouted sternly, "Everyone, assemble!"
The noisy werewolves immediately snapped to attention as if by reflex, then swiftly gathered in Chercy's direction.
They were all trained werewolves, and when it came to discipline and obeying orders, there was nothing to criticize. In just over ten seconds, they had already lined up in formation before Chercy.
A dozen or so werewolves stood neatly in front of her, waiting for her orders, not daring to say a single extra word.
Back at the werewolf settlement, Chercy was responsible not only for its defense but also for training the werewolves. Among this group of werewolves in charge of combat, her prestige was second only to Midgard, who had led the rise of their people.
"Everyone, get ready," Chercy said softly. "It's time for revenge."
They did not know exactly what had happened, but now that they had broken free of their restraints, revenge was a must.
Still, her subordinates had only just escaped their torment. What they needed most now was encouragement.
"Everyone, what happened this time is a disgrace to us." The moment she opened her mouth, Chercy set the tone for their current situation.
...
All the werewolves lowered their heads in shame. Ever since Midgard had united the werewolf wizards, they had never suffered such a defeat.
"We failed the Leader's expectations, and we brought shame to our people," Chercy said sharply. "Can you accept that?"
"No!" the werewolves answered in low but fervent voices.
"Then now is the time to wash away that shame." Chercy's voice was icy. "If I'm not mistaken, tonight is the night of the full moon."
At those words, all the werewolves' eyes lit up.
The full moon meant that even without drinking the complete Wolfsbane Potion, they would still be able to transform into werewolves and fight tonight.
As operatives sent out on assignments, all of them had taken the diluted version of the complete Wolfsbane Potion.
Although that diluted potion could not give them the ability to transform at will, it allowed them to remain rational for a very long time without needing to take Wolfsbane Potion again.
It was meant to prevent accidents in case deployed werewolves were unable to obtain Wolfsbane Potion in time.
But those bastards did not have equipment like theirs. The only Wolfsbane Potion circulating on the market was the earliest version, the one with the worst side effects.
If those people had taken it today, then the perfect chance for revenge had come.
And if they had not, that was fine too. What kind of trouble could a pack of brainless werewolves possibly stir up? They just had to hit them hard.