"Do you even know where the Fallen Werewolf is?" Arlo asks, watching me steer the SUV through another ruined intersection.
"No idea," I reply smoothly. "That's why I'm looking."
Arlo sighs, leaning his head against the window. "Isn't driving around in circles pointless? Even the Angelic Awakener squad couldn't track his scent."
Ah, but they didn't have you, I think to myself, glancing at him in the rearview mirror.
In the novel, Arlo's Awakened ability is tied to Narcissus. While completely useless in a fight, it gives him a terrifying, passive trait: Infinite Attraction. He is basically a human magnet, drawing people to him. Even after he becomes a villain later in the story, countless powerful Awakeners willingly lay down their lives for him.
Taking Arlo for a stroll in a monster-infested city is the ultimate form of bait fishing.
I park the car near a half-destroyed commercial strip and tell him to wait while I scavenge for supplies. Arlo doesn't mind my multitasking. He slowly walks over to the steps of a shattered boutique and sits down, clutching his weak chest.
He hasn't been sitting for more than two minutes when the sound of crashing shelves echoes from the alleyway next to the shop. Followed by a burst of crude, grating laughter.
"Well, well, look what we have here. A pretty little rich boy."
Three Demi-humans swagger out of the shadows. The leader is a hulking man whose forearms are covered in thick, reptilian scales. Dirty yellow claws protrude from his fingertips. He leers at Arlo, his eyes crawling over the boy's exquisite, fragile features. "All alone? Where's your bodyguard, pretty boy?"
Arlo doesn't speak. He just casts a brief, anxious glance toward the direction I disappeared into. He grips the edge of his shirt, his knuckles turning white, trying to maintain a facade of calm.
"Playing dumb, huh?" Another thug sneers. He has fish-like gills on the sides of his neck, his voice accompanied by a wet, hissing sound. He steps forward, reaching a grimy hand toward Arlo's face. "Look at this skin. So soft. I bet he tastes delicious."
Just as his filthy fingers are about to graze Arlo's cheek, a dark shadow erupts from the alleyway, screaming through the air like a missile.
THWACK.
A heavy red Fire Axe buries itself deep into the concrete, right between the fish-man and Arlo.
I step out from the shadows, carrying a box of scavenged snacks under one arm. A lollipop sticks out of the corner of my mouth.
"Oops," I say, my voice muffled around the candy stick. "Slipped."
The three Demi-humans jump back, staring at the glowing red axe embedded in the ground. The scaled leader recovers first, his face twisting into a nasty scowl. "Another one eager to die? This your toy boy, little girl?"
I shift the lollipop to the other side of my mouth with my tongue. "Yep. He's my beloved boss. Very expensive, you know."
"Boss?" The fish-gilled thug laughs, his gills flaring. "Looks more like dessert for the three of us!"
Before he can finish his sentence, he lets out a strangled yelp. With a flick of my wrist, the stick of my lollipop flies through the air and embeds itself directly into one of his sensitive gills.
"Too noisy," I say, hefting the axe onto my shoulder. "Are you going to roll out of here on your own, or do I need to help you?"
The scaled leader snarls, raising his claws. "Kill her!"
They charge. I move faster. I am a blur of motion.
Arlo only hears the sickening thuds of blunt force trauma and a few short screams. When he blinks, all three Demi-humans are unconscious on the ground, bleeding and groaning.
I casually pull my axe out of the concrete, clapping the dust off my free hand. "Demi-humans...their bone density is definitely higher than normal humans. I actually had to use a bit of effort to knock them out."
"Good warm-up, though."
Arlo stares at the broken bodies at my feet, his eyes wide with a mix of awe and terror.
"If...if Demi-humans take effort," he whispers, his voice trembling slightly, "are you really confident you can hunt down a Fallen? That Werewolf is in a completely different league."
"If it's the one we saw earlier, probably," I say, resting the axe on my shoulder. "I noticed deep claw marks on his arms and legs when he jumped over us. He's already injured. I can take him. But tell me more about the Fallen."
Arlo nods. He assumes I am just a normal person who doesn't know the secrets of the Awakener world. He explains the delicate balance between sanity and madness. Once an Awakener loses control of their mind, their mythic genes consume them, turning them into a Fallen beast.
"To prevent becoming Fallen," Arlo explains, his pale cheeks turning slightly pink, "an Awakener must keep their mind and body completely relaxed and satisfied."
"Satisfied how?" I ask, genuinely curious.
Arlo looks incredibly awkward, especially when faced with my innocent, doe-eyed expression. He looks away, coughing softly. "Drugs damage the body...so the most common method...is going to certain clubs or bars. Engaging in...intimate physical acts. If an Awakener suppresses their primal desires for too long, the built-up tension causes them to Fall."
I stare at him. Intimate acts? You mean sex. The cure for madness in this world is literally having a good time in bed.
I almost laugh out loud. Of course it is. I transmigrated into a dark fantasy smut novel. The entire world-building, the entire magic system, exists solely to justify the characters engaging in sex.
"Normal people can have multiple partners if they are powerful," Arlo continues, his voice hushed. "Awakeners even more so. Partners who are officially recognized by a powerful Awakener are called 'Familiars'. Many Demi-humans consider it a high honor to become a Familiar to a strong Awakener."
He looks down at his hands. "My mother has many Familiars. My father was just one of them. That Vampire brother I mentioned? We share the same mother, but different fathers. Even though I am weak and pose no threat to his inheritance, we are technically rivals."
"Ah..." I stroke my chin. "This world sounds...wild." A thought occurs to me. "Do Awakeners ever become Familiars to other Awakeners?"
"Rarely," Arlo shakes his head. "Awakeners are too proud to submit. If two Awakeners engage in...that kind of relationship, they usually just call each other 'Mates' or—"
I hold up a single finger, cutting him off mid-sentence.
"Shh," I whisper, my eyes locking onto the dark mouth of the alleyway.
Without looking back, I grab Arlo by the shoulder and shove him firmly behind me. I slide my foot back into a fighting stance, my knuckles turning white as I grip the handle of the fire axe.
Feeling the sudden, chilling shift in my aura, Arlo swallows the rest of his words and holds his breath.
A second later, a massive shadow erupts from the alleyway. Wolf ears. A thick, bristling tail. The Fallen Werewolf. The bait worked.
I step in front of my fragile employer, ready for a bloodbath. But then I notice something strange. The Werewolf isn't looking at me. His chaotic, blood-red eyes are locked entirely on Arlo.
Is he going for the weak link first? I wonder. A smart tactical move, but I won't let it happen.
The Alpha is massive.
A heavy, bloodstained metal collar bites deep into his neck. His clothes are nothing but shredded rags barely clinging to a perfectly sculpted chest, rugged abs, and a wicked V-line that disappears into the ruined fabric.
With blood smearing his wild, dangerously handsome face and a thick tail thrashing aggressively behind him, he looks like a beast ready to tear us apart.
He is absolutely terrifying. And undeniably, violently hot.
A low, rumbling growl vibrates from his chest. His vertical pupils are pinned on Arlo, radiating pure, unadulterated hostility.
"Your fight is with me," I snap, stepping into his line of sight.
I swing the heavy axe, the blade whistling toward his chest. The Werewolf dodges with unnatural agility, ignoring me completely as he lunges for Arlo. Arlo scrambles backward in terror, retreating several meters away from me until his back hits a wall.
Using the momentum of my missed swing, I spin around and sweep the axe horizontally. A vicious angle. If it connects, even his thick hide will suffer. The Werewolf twists his body mid-air. The blade grazes his bicep, tearing a deep gash. Thick, dark blood instantly wells up.
But he doesn't flinch. He acts like he can't even feel the pain. Instead, he stops moving. Because Arlo is finally far away from me, the hostility in the Werewolf's eyes instantly vanishes.
He turns his gaze slowly toward me. His tail, which was previously rigid with aggression, drops. It begins to sway gently back and forth behind him. A gesture that is almost...submissive.
I raise an eyebrow, flipping my wrist to ready the axe again. "What is he doing?"
The Werewolf steps closer, a deep, rumbling purr vibrating in his throat. I bring the axe down for a third strike, aiming for his shoulder.
But instead of dodging, he does the unthinkable. He lowers his head, leaning into the strike, and gently rubs his soft, furry wolf ears against the cold steel of my axe blade.
He acts like a giant, dangerous dog asking for pets.
I freeze. The momentum of my swing dies instantly. This Fallen beast, who was baring his fangs at Arlo two seconds ago, has completely dropped his guard. He isn't even trying to block my weapon.
I have no idea what this psycho puppy is playing at.
"Darling?" I call out over my shoulder without taking my eyes off the beast. "Why is this Werewolf vibrating?"
Arlo stares in disbelief. He takes a cautious step forward, trying to get closer to me. Instantly, the Werewolf's head snaps up. He bares his fangs at Arlo, a vicious snarl ripping through the air. The message is clear: Back off.
Arlo quickly retreats. "He..." Arlo swallows hard, trying to process the scene. "He must have Fallen because he suppressed his desires for too long. And evidently...he has decided that you are his Mate. He is courting you."
The Werewolf lets out another low, attention-seeking rumble. He straightens his back, puffs out his chest to show off his ridiculous muscles, and spreads his tail wide—a textbook display of strength and virility.
Then, to my absolute bewilderment, he reaches behind his back, pulls out a severed, dripping Zerg leg, and proudly drops it at my feet.
Splat. Green acid sizzles on the concrete.
He sits back, his thick tail thumping happily as he stares at me with expectant red eyes. He looks like a terrifying, violently hot golden retriever.
I stare at the melting bug leg, then at my five-million-credit bounty.
"Arlo," I say deadpan.
"Y-yes?" he squeaks from the wall.
"If I chop his head off for the bounty right now...does it count as domestic violence?"