The thieving werewolf.
1232 Words
Over time, as he diligently practiced the Golden Light Incantation, Klauen found his senses increasingly heightened.
Inside the room, someone was indulging in a hearty feast, and he could hear the sound of their lips smacking with remarkable clarity.
Was it truly the case that a third-tier culinary skill could attract a thief? Should I laugh or cry?
Gently placing the box down, Klauen lifted his backpack, striving to make not a single sound.
His revolver was firmly gripped in his hand as he swiftly inserted the key into the lock. He pushed the door open, arms raised with the weapon at the ready.
Inside stood a tall, muscular figure, somewhat hunched, and under the moonlight, Klauen could discern a leather coat draped over the individual.
"Don't move! Hands behind your back."
Before he could fully utter the familiar line from memory, a cast-iron pan hurtled toward him.
"Damn it!"
The glutton was thrown out, and Klauen cursed inwardly, deftly dodging the incoming pan.
If I injure or kill him, I won't be the one to blame!
He darted aside, just as the pan flew past, and charged into the room to give that utterly unscrupulous character a taste of his lead.
With his current shooting skills, he wouldn't be able to kill the thief unless he aimed for a vital spot.
Although furious, he knew that the act of stealing food did not warrant death.
After all, only someone truly desperate would resort to such measures.
Yet to steal my belongings and strike me with my own pan? That's utterly intolerable!
A deep growl resonated from within, and simultaneously, a shadow charged out behind the pan, halting in the middle of the path to face Klauen.
The moonlight outside shone even brighter, allowing him to fully see the form of the shadow.
What a grotesque face it bore.
Furry and matted, its yellowish-brown eyes glinted with a chilling light, the elongated snout and upright, pointed ears clearly indicating a wolf's head on a human body.
Covered in a thick, dark coat of fur, its gaping maw dripped with drool.
Before him stood a werewolf, reminiscent of Lushian's transformation in the legends of the night.
The werewolf stepped forward, its powerful limbs propelling it toward him with an ear-splitting roar.
"Awwooo!"
In response, a barrage of gunfire erupted.
Though taken aback by his misfortune, Klauen instinctively pulled the trigger without hesitation.
The sounds of gunfire and roaring reverberated through the still night.
Having participated in a battle against a goat-headed monster alongside the priest, he understood the ferocity of these dark creatures.
Ordinary bullets could not penetrate their resilient flesh, so he aimed for the werewolf's open maw and its eyes.
The werewolf's reflexes exceeded his expectations; just as the first bullet left the barrel, it had already snapped its jaws shut and turned its head away.
After three shots, Klauen fired again, targeting the werewolf's ears.
The bullets merely grazed its cheek, failing to inflict significant damage.
By the time he unleashed the second round, the werewolf had dropped to the ground, letting out a low growl as it lunged toward the young man firing the weapon.
Damn, can these dark creatures react so swiftly?!
As the werewolf charged, Klauen sidestepped with urgency.
With only one bullet left in his revolver, if he failed to deliver a lethal blow, he might not leave this place alive.
He activated the ability of the Hourglass of Time, freezing the space around him.
In that crucial moment, he crouched low, narrowly avoiding the attack, as the werewolf collided with the wall.
Perhaps the werewolf's momentum was too powerful, or perhaps his ability was still too weak; the werewolf's movement was only delayed for an instant before Klauen felt the sands of time within the hourglass depleting rapidly.
"Boom!"
The dull thud echoed, causing Klauen to wince.
Fortunately, the creature's mind was not particularly sharp; thoughts flashed through his mind as his hand moved swiftly.
Seizing the moment, he fired a shot.
At such a close range, with his shooting skills, a miss was out of the question.
With a fierce expression, he wished for his bullet to find its mark, and the brass bullet struck the werewolf squarely in the forehead, roughly at the temple.
The werewolf let out a shrill howl, rising up on its front limbs, then vanished into the depths of the street after a few leaps.
It didn’t die?!
Klauen's mouth gaped in disbelief; at such close range, the bullet had failed to penetrate the werewolf's skull.
...
At the Goat Inn, Geralt suddenly set down the cloth he had been using to wipe his sword and exchanged a glance with Allen.
"The howl of a werewolf; there is no mistaking it."
Geralt quickly sheathed his sword, slinging it over his shoulder, and leaped out of the window.
Allen followed suit, shouldering his own longsword.
More gunfire rang out in the distance, and Geralt pointed in that direction.
"That way, let's go."
The two moved like hunting cheetahs, nimbly sprinting toward the source of the sound.
Upon their arrival, Klauen was bent over, picking up his frying pan.
"What happened?" Geralt inquired, maintaining his usual demeanor.
The young man offered a dry smile. "As you can see, a werewolf barged into my home and smashed my cooking pan!"
"Come inside and tell us more."
The three entered the room, and Klauen lit an oil lamp, brightening the space.
The table was smeared with grease, and several pieces of chicken lay silently in disarray.
The door leading to the backyard hung askew on its hinges.
After dragging a few chairs over, the three sat down, and Klauen recounted the events of his return home.
"When I arrived at the door, I heard noises inside. In the end, I hit the werewolf in the head; it must have sensed the threat of death and fled. If it hadn't escaped, I would have been in danger."
Finally, Klauen voiced his confusion: "Didn’t they say that those affected by dark powers only transform into werewolves on nights of the full moon?"
Geralt remained silent, deep in thought.
Allen picked up the conversation. "Not necessarily; some can become werewolves at night and revert to normal during the day."
Geralt added softly, "Werewolves hold grudges. Once their wounds heal, they will surely seek revenge on you, so be prepared."
Klauen felt a surge of frustration.
What on earth is happening? I was minding my own business at home, and trouble comes knocking!
He had hoped to lay low for a while, brew potions, earn some coin, and then train alongside the priest.
"Mr. Geralt, you say I've become a Spirit Tamer. Why then am I still no match for these monsters?"
"Werewolves and vampires are classified as magical beasts. Their physical prowess is exceptional, and the spirit dwelling within you may lean more toward magical aptitude than physical enhancement. Thus, you have yet to gain an increase in your physical capabilities. Moreover, you've only recently become a Spirit Tamer and haven't undergone formal training; it’s entirely normal that you're not a match for magical creatures."
"I suggest you take some time to visit a major city that handles supernatural incidents, register with the authorities. While there will be some restrictions, they will also provide assistance and help you gradually integrate into the circle of the mystics."
- Writer
