Wolf. (3)
A strange standoff continued.
The wolves hesitated, unwilling to attack outright. Though the enraged werewolf had driven them to surround Woojin, they were no better off.
Attack and die. Flee and die.
Caught in this cruel choice, the wolves were trapped between Woojin and the werewolf, unable to advance or retreat.
Meet the wrong superior, and life becomes miserable. Still, no matter where you go, there's always at least one cunning middle manager.
"…That one looks familiar."
Woojin narrowed his eyes.
Among the encirclement stood a familiar wolf.
A particularly large one with red fur. Unlike the others, two long tentacles had sprouted from its back. A higher variant that had undergone greater mutation.
Where had he seen that one before?
After a brief moment of thought, Woojin recalled it.
The one from before.
The wild dog he had spotted while it was tearing into bat wings—the one that had spat out the food he'd generously shared.
As Woojin fixed his gaze on the red wolf, the surrounding wolves gathered protectively around it. It seemed to serve as something like a mid-level commander within the pack.
I should deal with that one first.
Killing the one that held authority would make things easier. The moment Woojin stepped forward—
Thud-thud-thud!
Sensing killing intent, the red wolf abruptly abandoned its companions and bolted. It moved so fast its legs were almost invisible.
The werewolf and the other wolves stared blankly at its fleeing figure.
The absurdity of the situation made Woojin snort.
What a funny one… and clever, too.
The red wolf had judged that fleeing immediately gave it better odds of survival than becoming Woojin's target.
And it was correct.
The werewolf had only one body. It couldn't possibly chase down and slaughter every deserter.
The remaining wolves seemed to realize that as well. Uneasy murmurs spread through the pack. The werewolf tried to reassert control, but it was already too late.
The wolves scattered and fled in all directions.
The furious werewolf gave chase. A few unlucky wolves were caught in its vicious grip and torn apart.
What a complete mess.
Woojin watched with an amused smile. They were fighting among themselves—chaos upon chaos.
This ridiculous spectacle only ended once the werewolf ran out of wolves to pursue. Still not satisfied, it let out a furious howl before turning its head toward Woojin.
It seemed to need something to vent its rage on.
Its eye gleamed with a chilling light. Then the glow stretched thin and sharp.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
It charged.
The werewolf accelerated, kicking off the ground repeatedly. Then it suddenly stomped and leapt.
Its massive, bear-like body soared high into the air, casting a shadow of death over Woojin.
Woojin quickly dove aside.
Boom!!
The werewolf slammed down, punching the ground. With a deafening crash, the earth caved inward.
Having barely avoided the blow, Woojin scraped dirt from his mouth with his tongue and spat it out.
Fast—and strong.
Its brute force was hard to believe belonged to a living creature.
Beasts that survived long within the demonic realm possessed abilities beyond common sense.
Each time they hunted and slew other creatures, consuming their blood and flesh, they gained new power—greater strength, swifter legs, inexhaustible stamina.
The werewolf had ruled this region as a top predator, slaughtering countless demonic beasts. The strength and skill it had accumulated over long years were undeniably threatening.
A sharp gust of wind.
Woojin instinctively raised his shield.
The werewolf's claws suddenly lengthened and raked across it.
Crack!
The shield split apart along the claw marks as if it were a joke. Even accounting for it being wooden, the power was tremendous.
The werewolf lunged again.
To evade the relentless assault, Woojin retreated step by step, eyes fixed on his enemy's movements. The endlessly swinging claws brushed past him again and again.
The werewolf continued its one-sided barrage.
Then Woojin tilted his head slightly.
What he felt was not danger—but suspicion.
…Does this thing have no other tricks?
Given its confidence, he had assumed it was the regional leader.
To rise to such a position in the demonic realm's ecosystem required multiple abilities. Yet no matter how long he waited, all the creature used was the single gimmick of extending its claws.
Was it engaging in some advanced psychological ploy, or was it simply incompetent?
Let's test it.
Woojin tightened his grip on his machete. His five fingers clenched around the handle as though squeezing juice from it.
He swung.
This time, instead of dodging, he met the attack head-on.
Clang!!
Blade and claw collided, sparks erupting violently.
The one forced backward was the werewolf.
It stumbled several steps back, eyes wide.
It seemed shocked that it had lost in a direct contest of strength—
But in truth, there was nothing surprising about it.
In terms of pure strength, I should obviously be stronger.
Hunting creatures of the demonic realm granted power. That rule applied to Woojin as well.
In his previous life, Woojin had survived countless deadly battles deep within the demonic realm. He had hunted powerful foes, consumed their blood and flesh, and accumulated strength. He had even encountered a few opportunities that could be called miraculous.
Could a werewolf playing king in the outskirts possibly overpower a man who had crawled out from the depths?
Perhaps I was overly cautious.
Having gauged the measure of his opponent, Woojin rushed forward.
The werewolf swung its claws to intercept him—movements Woojin had already grown sick of seeing.
He parried the claws with his machete and stepped sharply to the right.
From the werewolf's perspective—missing one eye—it must have seemed as though Woojin had suddenly vanished.
It should have relied on sound and reacted accordingly, but having lost its eye only recently, it lacked that seasoned adaptation.
From the blind side of its vision, Woojin swung.
The blade carved into the werewolf's left knee.
"Graaagh!!"
The werewolf roared wildly and swept its arm across its left side.
But by then, Woojin had already moved behind its back.
He swung again, this time slicing through the back of its right knee.
With both knees ruined, the werewolf's massive body collapsed forward. It sank to the ground, almost sprawled out, gasping for breath.
It lifted its head and looked up at the human before it.
Woojin's expression was utterly indifferent—like a butcher checking whether a pig's head had been boiled properly.
Only then did the werewolf realize that it was nothing more than prey.
Slice.
The machete severed its neck.
The headless wolf's body fell limply onto the dirt.
Woojin nudged the corpse over with his foot. Then he slit open its abdomen with a dagger. Sliding his hand beneath the ribcage, he rummaged inside.
"…Here it is."
He withdrew his hand holding something resembling a red walnut—round and knobby on the surface.
The strange object pulsed like a beating heart, as if alive.
The werewolf's inner core.
Demonic beasts that lived long enough formed an inner core—a crystallization of the demonic realm's accumulated power.
Without hesitation, Woojin shoved it into his mouth.
Crunch, crunch—
He chewed.
A portion of the strength the werewolf had possessed in life now settled within him.
It didn't taste good—fishy, with the texture of tough cartilage like chewing rubber.
Once finished, Woojin wiped the blood from his body with a handkerchief. His gaze then shifted to the cabin.
Is Hector still alive?
He went to check.
Throwing open the door, he saw the haggard hunter inside. Hector sat slumped against the wall, eyes closed.
To confirm whether he was alive, Woojin snapped his fingers sharply.
At the sound, Hector's eyelids twitched.
He's barely hanging on.
Empty potion bottles and scattered bandages lay on the floor. It seemed Hector had attempted emergency treatment but collapsed from exhaustion.
He did say the potion's side effects were severe.
A liquid that healed wounds—but it wasn't some convenient game item. He'd heard that using a potion brought intense pain and dizziness as the wounds regenerated.
Woojin had never used one himself, so he could only imagine the sensation.
Maybe like putting strong medicine on a mouth ulcer.
For a seasoned hunter to collapse, it had to be at least that bad.
Judging by the completely drained bottle, Hector must have been desperate.
He had probably seen Woojin facing the wolves outside and forced himself to chug the potion in order to join him—only to pass out.
He won't die.
Though unconscious, the potion seemed effective. Hector's breathing was steady. After proper rest, he would likely recover.
Woojin laid him down flat and went back outside.
There was a mountain of work left.
I should clear away the wolves I killed earlier.
If the corpses rotted, they would produce a terrible stench and attract other demonic beasts in the area.
So Woojin moved busily.
Wolves whose condition seemed salvageable were skinned. Those without value were dragged far away and discarded. There had been far more than one or two—it was laborious work.
About two hours later—
When the task was roughly half finished, the cabin door burst open.
Hector stepped out, looking around with wide eyes.
"…What in the world?"
He muttered in disbelief, then turned his gaze toward Woojin.
"You killed all these wolves… by yourself?"
"Strictly speaking, they fought among themselves and self-destructed. The werewolf didn't seem particularly talented as a leader."
"And what of that creature? I shot out its eye—it wouldn't have retreated quietly."
"It's hanging over there."
Woojin gestured toward the drying rack.
The massive werewolf hide was stretched out upon it.
Hector blinked several times, as if unable to trust his eyes. Without a word, he approached the rack and touched the hide with his hand.
"…Unbelievable. To think my revenge would end like this."
"You had some kind of grudge against it?"
"Nothing special. A few acquaintances of mine were among those it devoured. In times like these, that's hardly unusual."
Hector explained plainly, then fell silent, apparently unwilling to elaborate.
Woojin didn't have much else to say either. Still, it felt like something should be said.
"What will you do now?"
"Well… I've never really thought about it."
It seemed the old hunter had never set a goal beyond revenge.
After a moment of thought, Hector asked in return,
"And what is your goal?"
It was something Woojin had already been pondering that morning, so he answered without hesitation.
"I just want to live comfortably. Without worries or troubles."
"That's not particularly difficult."
"Is it?"
In a dark fantasy world, speaking of a peaceful life sounded almost contradictory.
Seeing Woojin's puzzlement, Hector jerked his chin toward the werewolf hide.
"The bounty on that creature alone exceeds forty gold coins. Enough to live comfortably for six or seven years."
"…Excuse me?"
Just that thing?