The silver carcass of the Bloodthirsty Moon Wolf lay draped across the obsidian-veined marble island in the center of Villa #52’s kitchen. It was a massive creature, easily weighing over three hundred pounds even after being bled, its fur still shimmering with a faint, ghostly lunar radiance that pulsed in the low light of the room. In the Metahuman World, a carcass of this quality was a literal treasure chest. The hide would be sold to the elite armorers of Flame City to be woven into a Celestial Spirit Aegis, and the claws would be refined into high-frequency Darkwater Spikes.
But for Leo Shaw, the value was far more visceral.
Leo stood before the beast, having discarded his scorched blazer for a simple black silk apron. In his previous life, he had been a man of many masks. To win the
