Death is sometimes a critique of life.
Death is inevitable. It lurks everywhere. It doesn't choose; it simply takes.
Under the moonlit sky, I step into my homeland—Aelcrest.
The familiar scent of the earth, the whisper of the wind, and the distant flicker of lanterns welcome me.
It's been too long since I last set foot here. I want to tell my grandmother everything.
No matter how heavy my burdens are, just talking to her makes them lighter.
Because of her, I've managed to keep going. Because if I die... I know there's still someone in this world who would cry for me.
I push open the door without knocking.
"I'm home, Grandma Rosa!" I call out, my voice filled with the warmth of long-awaited return.
Silence greets me. "...Strange. She usually answers right away."
"She's probably asleep," I murmur to myself, forcing a small chuckle.
I ascend the stairs and head to her room, a place that has always been filled with the scent of tea and old books.
But when I push open the door—She's not there.
A chill crawls up my spine.
I search every room, my steps growing more frantic. The kitchen. The backyard. The little reading nook by the window.
Nowhere.
A suffocating unease grips my chest.
I rush outside, where I spot a group of neighbors gathered. The flickering lanterns cast shadows on their solemn faces.
One of them, an older woman, gasps when she sees me. "Oh... You must be Grandma Rosa's grandson, right?"
Something in her tone makes my stomach drop. "Where is she?" I ask, my voice barely holding together.
The woman hesitates. Her lips tremble before she finally speaks.
And then—I find myself standing before a gravestone. A single name is etched into the cold stone.
Rosalind.
"She... passed away a month ago," the woman says, voice thick with sorrow.
The words barely reach me.
A month ago?
A whole month... and I didn't even know.
The night feels colder than before. And for the first time in a long while—I feel truly alone.
"The last time I saw her before she passed... she was with a woman with ashen hair."
The old woman's voice trembles as she recalls the memory.
"We chatted for a while. She told me... she had done everything she wanted to do in this world."
A lump forms in my throat. "The next day... when I went to bring her some fruit... I found her lying on her bed..."
She pauses, biting back a sob. "...Lifeless."
Her voice cracks, and she wipes at her eyes, as if imagining the weight of my grief.
"She left this for you."
She hands me a folded piece of paper. My fingers brush against its worn edges as I take it, but I don't unfold it. Not yet.
My eyes remain fixed on the gravestone.
"...I'll leave you alone."
The old woman whispers those words before turning away, her steps fading into the distance.
The sky darkens.
Raindrops begin to fall-soft at first, then steadily heavier. Yet, I don't move.
I should've expected this. She was old. Death was inevitable.
This... is normal.
But no matter how much I tell myself that—I still can't accept it.
Grandma Rosa was the last family I had. And I never even got to say goodbye.
The rain pours harder, soaking my clothes, but I barely feel it.
With trembling hands, I unfold the paper—And begin to read.
"Dear Arche,
If you're reading this, it means I'm gone.
I'm sorry. You must be upset that I left so soon, but I was already too old, so don't be too mad, okay?
And... I told Elaina about you. About your past. She's the one you like, right? I hope you manage to reach her.
The reason I told her is because, after I'm gone, you need someone who truly understands you.
Arthur knows you well, but he's always busy, isn't he?
So, I thought... maybe Elaina could be that person. Someone you can complain to, grieve with, argue with, confide in-someone who will listen when you feel lost.
Arche, you're strong. And I mean that. You've made it this far, despite everything, and that alone is incredible.
So, I'm leaving this letter for you...
I love you. Even though I'm not here anymore.
You're a hero, Arche. To me. And to so many others.
Goodbye... and please, live happily.
Love, Grandma Rosa"
The paper in my hands grows damp, the ink smudging as raindrops soak through it.
Before it falls apart completely, I slip it into my pocket.
My vision blurs. Tears spill from my eyes, silent and unrestrained.
Even as they stream down my face, my expression remains empty. I try to stay strong. I try to endure.
If she were still here... she would hold me. She would tell me it's okay.
But she's not.
I step forward, kneeling before Grandma Rosa's grave.
My hands tremble as I reach out—And then, I hug the cold tombstone.
A sob escapes me.
"Grandma..."
I call her name. Once. Twice. Again and again. I know she won't answer.
I know it won't change anything.
But just this once—just for the last time—I want to feel her warmth again.
My cries echo through the empty cemetery, drowned out by the rain.
When my tears finally dry, I force myself to stand. My body feels heavy. My heart even more so.
But I smile.
A small, fragile smile.
"I love you, Grandma Rosa."
I whisper the words, as if she's still listening. Then, without looking back, I turn away.
I keep smiling-until the very moment I step out of the cemetery.
And then—
It disappears.
I know she'd want me to keep smiling.
But... I can't.
Smiling all the time is exhausting.
With slow, weary steps, I head toward Grandma Rosa's house.
No—our house.
As I approached the house, a lone figure stood on the porch, his jacket soaked from the rain.
"Yo, long time no see, Arche."
Black hair. Red eyes.
There was no mistaking him—Zack. An old friend from back when I was still a thief.
I narrowed my eyes. "You've been watching me, haven't you?"
Zack smirked slightly but nodded. "Yeah. My condolences for your grandmother."
He placed a hand on his chest and lowered his head briefly.
"...Thanks, Zack."
I pushed open the door. "Come in."
Without a word, he stepped inside, shrugging off his drenched jacket to avoid dripping water everywhere.
Meanwhile, I was completely soaked myself, but I ignored it. "I'll take a quick shower. Sit anywhere you like."
"I'll stand, thanks." His tone was firm as he glanced at my drenched clothes.
After washing away the cold rain, I changed into fresh clothes and headed to the kitchen.
The familiar ritual of making tea filled the silence boiling water, placing tea leaves, waiting as the aroma spread.
I placed two cups on a tray and carried them to the living room.
But when I got there—Zack was gone.
Frowning, I set the tray down and glanced around. Then, through the window, I spotted him.
Standing on the porch.
Smoking.
I stepped outside, the scent of rain mixing with the faint trace of tobacco in the air.
Without a word, I stood beside him.
And together, we watched the rain fall.
Zack reached into his pocket and pulled out a small case. With a flick, he opened it and took out a cigarillo before offering one to me.
"Want one?"
I wasn't much of a smoker. Hardly ever, really. But tonight... maybe it would help.
"Thanks." I took one.
"You can still use a little fire magic, right?" he asked.
I exhaled slowly. "I lost my magic."
Zack paused for a moment, then simply muttered, "Ah. Unfortunate." He didn't pry further.
I leaned in, using the ember at the tip of his cigarillo to light mine.
Taking a slow drag, I let the smoke swirl in my lungs before releasing it into the rain-soaked air.
For a while, we just stood there, watching the downpour in silence.
"I hate rain," I muttered.
"Same," he replied, just as flatly.
The rhythmic patter of raindrops against the roof filled the space between us.
"Hey," I said after a while, my gaze still fixed on the storm. "I want to ask you something."
"Just say it."
I took another drag before speaking. "Your wife and kid... they were killed by someone from Lunar Ascendance, right?"
A brief silence. Then—
"Yeah," he answered, his voice calm but heavy. He took a slow drag from his cigarillo.
"Do you want revenge?"
"Of course I do," he said. "But I can't take them down alone."
I nodded, my grip tightening around the cigarillo. "Me neither. If I go after them alone, I'll die."
I exhaled smoke, watching it blend into the rain. "So... want to form a team?" I asked, turning to him.
"Let's hit them together."
For the first time tonight, Zack smirked.
"Sounds fun," he said.
I extended my hand.
"So, deal?"
He took another drag, then clasped my hand firmly.
"Deal."
The next night, Zack and I stood in a dimly lit alley, the cold air thick with the scent of rain and filth.
Shadows stretched long under the flickering streetlamp at the alley's mouth.
A dove fluttered down, landing before us. It clutched a small letter in its claws, shifting restlessly as if eager to leave.
I reached out and took the letter. The bird immediately tried to take off-
But Zack caught it mid-flight.
Ignoring its frantic flapping, he wordlessly stepped deeper into the alley's darkness.
I unfolded the letter.
"Arche, please pick me up in a country called Eryndale ASAP. Love, Chronia."
Short. Direct.
A familiar name.
Just as I finished reading, a sharp, wet sound echoed through the alley.
Followed by a strangled scream.
I turned toward the noise.
"Human?" I asked.
"Yeah. An informant." Zack stepped forward, revealing the body of a woman slumped against the wall—her throat gaping open, blood pooling at her feet.
"Used her services once."
Her mouth hung open. Her fingers twitched slightly.
I sighed, exhaling through my nose. "Chronia wants me in Eryndale. We'll head there in a few days."
Then I noticed—The woman's eyes.
Still blinking.
But her gaze was hollow. Empty.
A chill crawled up my spine. "She's still going. Finish her properly."
Zack tilted his head. "Oh? Didn't notice. One sec." He knelt, driving his knife into both her eyes.
A sickening squelch. The last remnants of life flickered out.
Satisfied, Zack stood and dragged the corpse to the alley's corner, dumping it like discarded trash.
"So," he said, dusting off his hands. "When do we leave?"
I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out a torn newspaper clipping. The bold headline stood out against the smudged ink-
"Terror of the Werewolves Continues-Another Victim Found."
My grip tightened. "After I meet him."
We made our way into the forest, the damp earth soft beneath our boots.
The distant calls of nocturnal creatures echoed through the trees, but neither of us paid them any mind.
Zack walked beside me, his hands in his coat pockets. "So, why do you want to meet him?"
"Hm? No special reason," I said, stepping over a fallen branch. "Just wanted to reunite."
The forest river came into view, its surface reflecting the sliver of moonlight that pierced through the canopy.
And there—standing at the water's edge—was a monstrous figure.
A werewolf.
He was larger than before, his crimson eyes gleaming in the darkness.
Thick fur bristled along his massive frame, muscles tense beneath his ragged coat.
The beast turned toward us, his glowing eyes flickering between Zack and me.
Then, they locked onto me.
"You..."
I grinned. "Yo, Long time no see, Lykos."
The moment his name left my lips, his expression twisted into rage.
"Don't ever say that name again!"
I blinked. "Huh? Why? And where's Lycaon?"
I barely had time to process his fury before he lunged.
With inhuman speed, his razor-sharp claws tore through the air, aimed directly at me.
Before I could react, Zack intercepted-gripping the beast's arm with sheer, unshaken force.
Even with the werewolf's monstrous strength, Zack held firm, his expression eerily calm.
"He doesn't seem too friendly, Arche," he noted, his grip tightening.
I took a step forward, ignoring the cold sweat prickling my skin.
"Lykos! Is that you? Lykos, right?!" I called out, my voice cutting through the chaos.
The werewolf stiffened. His glowing red eyes burned into mine, his breath heavy and ragged.
"I told you..." His voice was low, guttural. Dangerous.
Then—With terrifying strength, he grabbed Zack.
Massive, fur-covered arms constricted around him like a vice, muscles bulging as he squeezed.
A sharp crack echoed through the air. Zack gritted his teeth, and the werewolf's grip only tightened.
"Zack!"
I lunged forward, driving a swift kick into the beast's gut—Only to feel a jolt of pain shoot up my leg.
He didn't even flinch.
My eyes widened. His resilience was unreal. He was never this strong before!
"You'll regret ever speaking that name again!" he roared, his voice a guttural snarl.
Before he could crush Zack's ribs, a flash of steel cut through the darkness—Zack's blade buried itself deep into the werewolf's arm.
A vicious snarl ripped from the beast's throat, his grip loosening just enough for Zack to wrench himself free.
Wasting no time, Zack followed up with a swift, precise slash across his chest.
Yet—nothing.
The wound barely even bled.
Zack leapt back, his stance guarded, his gaze narrowing. "His endurance is insane."
I clenched my fists. "Lykos! Why are you doing this?! Where's Lycaon?!"
For a moment, silence.
Then, the werewolf's lips curled into a twisted grin, his fangs gleaming under the moonlight.
"I AM LYCAON!" he snarled. "And stop calling me that, you bastard!"
A chill ran down my spine.
Then—Without warning, he dropped to all fours.
And disappeared.
Shit—he's fast!
Before I could react, a clawed hand shot out from the darkness, wrapping around my ankle—
And yanked me off my feet.
The world spun as I was hurled through the air-straight toward Zack!
The impact should've been brutal, but Zack caught me at the last second, skidding back as his boots dug into the mud.
I groaned, still dazed. "Nice catch."
Zack smirked, adjusting his grip on his blade. "Anytime."
Lycaon turned and vanished into the shadows, leaving Zack and me standing in stunned silence.
Zack crossed his arms. "Are you sure you don't have the wrong guy?"
"I'm sure," I replied without hesitation.
Zack sighed. "So... you're thinking about recruiting him?"
"With his speed, his strength, his durability—he's a perfect candidate for our team," I said, my voice laced with determination.
Zack smirked. "Then we better track him down fast. The day after tomorrow, we leave to pick up Nia."
"Yeah. That means we have one night to convince him."
"Busy schedule," Zack muttered.
Without wasting time, we took off running, weaving through the darkened streets.
By the time we reached the city center, I slowed my pace, scanning the rooftops.
"Okay... now where the hell did he go?" I mumbled.
"Maybe he's actually acting like a wolf," Zack mused.
"Pfft. That's impossible. He's still human. He wouldn't take the whole 'lone wolf' thing that seri—"
A howl split through the night.
I looked up—And there, standing atop a rooftop, bathed in moonlight, was Lycaon.
His towering frame was rigid with barely contained power, his red eyes gleaming with something primal.
I nudged Zack. "You are indeed a trustworthy person"
Zack smirked. "Always."
Without hesitation, Lycaon leaped from the rooftop, landing in front of us with a resounding thud.
The ground trembled beneath his weight. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he lifted his head—And unleashed a feral roar.
His breath was hot, pungent with the scent of raw meat.
Zack wrinkled his nose. "Ever considered brushing your teeth?"
I let out a dry chuckle. "Hah, not bad."
But the amusement was short-lived.
Lycaon's claws extended-long, razor-sharp, and ready to kill.
In an instant, he lunged at us, slashing through the air with terrifying speed.
Lycaon's claws slashed toward me-I barely twisted away in time, the razor-sharp tips cutting through the air so close I felt the chill of death brush my skin.
Zack seized the opening, lunging from behind, his blade aimed straight for Lycaon's exposed back.
But Lycaon was faster.
With an almost lazy spin, he delivered a devastating backhand.
CRACK.
Zack was sent flying, his body smashing into the stone fountain with a sickening splash.
Water erupted in all directions as he struggled to get up, his soaked clothes weighing him down.
I couldn't afford to hesitate.
I darted into motion, circling Lycaon at full speed. I wasn't as fast as him—not yet—but I was close.
For the first time, his expression shifted. A flicker of surprise. He realized—I was mimicking his movements.
But Lycaon wasn't stupid.
His muscles tensed, ready to counter. He knew I wasn't strong enough to take him down alone.
That's when Zack reappeared, bruised but grinning. "Gotcha."
Before Lycaon could react, Zack grabbed him from behind, locking his arms around the beast's torso and yanking him backward with all his strength.
Lycaon roared in fury, his massive frame crashing to the ground, stone cracking beneath his weight.
I didn't waste a second.
Snatching a thick rope from my belt, I wrapped it around his legs in one swift motion, pulling it tight—tight enough that he wouldn't break free easily.
For a moment, it seemed to work.
Then, with a snarl, Lycaon threw Zack off him, sending him skidding across the wet stone.
His glowing eyes locked onto me.
Then—shhk!
His claws extended further, glinting under the moonlight.
And with terrifying ease—He began to slice through the bindings.
Zack and I didn't give him a chance. We gripped the rope tighter, twisting it in unison.
Faster.
And faster.
Lycaon's massive form spun wildly, his growls turning into disoriented snarls.
His claws slashed at the air, but he couldn't find his footing.
Then—snap!
The rope snapped apart, the sheer force sending Lycaon hurtling through the air.
CRASH!
He slammed straight into a dumpster, metal denting under his weight.
Zack exhaled, smirking. "That's payback."
I wiped the sweat from my brow. "Nice work." Then, something unexpected happened.
His fur began to shrink. His monstrous limbs receded. Claws dulled back into human nails.
And just like that, the werewolf was gone. What remained was a man.
I stepped closer, my breath hitching as I saw his face.
Lycaon.
Not Lykos.
"...You really are Lycaon, huh?" I muttered.
His eyes fluttered open, hazy but focused. His gaze locked onto us-recognition flickering beneath exhaustion.
"You..."
Then—his hands twitched.
Fur spread like wildfire. His fingers twisted, stretching back into claws.
Within seconds, his arms were monstrous again-part-werewolf, part-human.
I barely had time to react before his tail sprouted, his transformation accelerating.
His voice was guttural, seething with hatred. "I'll get you for this!"
With that, he bolted.
Zack lunged forward, ready to chase—but I grabbed his arm. "Enough for today."
Zack clicked his tongue in frustration, watching as Lycaon disappeared into the darkness.
"We need a plan," I muttered.
Zack nodded, his grip tightening around his blade. "Next time, we finish this."
The next day, Zack and I sat across from each other in a dimly lit café, steam rising from our untouched coffee.
"How to beat him?" Zack asked bluntly, stirring his drink with a slow, lazy motion.
I leaned back, thinking. "Endurance like a beast, speed that outmatches ours, regeneration that makes him a damn nightmare."
"And don't forget his strength." Zack smirked. "I wonder how hard he hits."
I grinned. "Want to find out?"
Zack chuckled, shaking his head. "You're insane. Let's do it."
We stepped out of the café, blending into the bustling streets.
Then—we froze.
A familiar figure was walking ahead. Black hair, broad shoulders, an unsettling aura.
Lycaon.
Our eyes met.
Silence.
Then—his hands twitched.
Fur spread like wildfire. His fingers twisted, stretching back into claws.
Within seconds, his arms were monstrous again-part-werewolf, part-human.
I barely had time to react before his tail sprouted, his transformation accelerating.
His voice was guttural, seething with hatred. "I'll get you for this!"
With that, he bolted.
Zack lunged forward, ready to chase—but I grabbed his arm. "Enough for today."
Zack clicked his tongue in frustration, watching as Lycaon disappeared into the darkness.
"We need a plan," I muttered.
Zack nodded, his grip tightening around his blade. "Next time, we finish this."
The next day, Zack and I sat across from each other in a dimly lit café, steam rising from our untouched coffee.
"How to beat him?" Zack asked bluntly, stirring his drink with a slow, lazy motion.
I leaned back, thinking. "Endurance like a beast, speed that outmatches ours, regeneration that makes him a damn nightmare."
"And don't forget his strength." Zack smirked. "I wonder how hard he hits."
I grinned. "Want to find out?"
Zack chuckled, shaking his head. "You're insane. Let's do it."
We stepped out of the café, blending into the bustling streets.
Then—we froze.
A familiar figure was walking ahead. Black hair, broad shoulders, an unsettling aura.
Lycaon.
Our eyes met.
Silence.
Then—his legs twisted, shifting into wolf limbs, claws scraping against the pavement.
Before either of us could react, he bolted.
I blinked. "He can transform during the day?"
Zack shrugged, unfazed. "Impressive. Wanna chase him?"
I exhaled, watching Lycaon disappear into the crowd. "No need. Tonight—we finish this."
Zack grinned. "You sound confident."
I returned the smirk. "Who do you think we are?"
Zack chuckled darkly. "You're right."
Tonight, Lycaon was ours.
The night air was crisp as Zack and I sat atop the bell tower, scanning the city below.
Smoke curled from our cigars, fading into the dark sky.
"Arche, have you seen him?" Zack asked, exhaling slowly.
"Not even a little bit," I muttered, eyes roaming the streets.
"He's probably sleeping." He replied.
"Shall we break into houses one by one?" I smirked.
Zack smirked back. "Would you like a cigar?" He handed me one without waiting for an answer.
I took it, lighting the tip with a flick of my lighter. The silence stretched between us as we watched, waiting.
Then—"Arche! I see the big furry one."
"Where?" I turned to follow Zack's gaze.
A massive werewolf lumbered through the streets below, two sheep dangling from his claws.
"He looks hungry," I remarked.
"Let's go down," Zack said, already preparing his grappling hook.
We descended swiftly, landing on the rooftops before hitting the ground running.
Lycaon noticed.
His ears twitched. His grip tightened on the sheep.
Then, he ran.
"Shit, he's fast," Zack muttered.
Lycaon barely broke stride as he tossed one sheep to the ground-then flung a handful of sand straight at us.
I barely had time to shut my eyes before the coarse grains hit.
By the time we opened them, he was gone.
Zack let out a low whistle. "Smart bastard."
I nodded. "Any idea where he might be hiding?"
"Wolves stay in the woods, right?"
"Then... let's go to the woods."
Zack and I sprinted into the woods, weaving through the dense trees.
The cool night air was thick with the scent of damp earth and blood.
Then, we found him.
Lycaon was hunched over, finishing the last scraps of a sheep, his sharp fangs glistening under the moonlight.
"Are you full?" I asked, stepping forward.
His ears twitched. He turned, eyes narrowing in annoyance. "Tch... you guys never learn, do you?!"
"Well, we're not at school right now," Zack quipped.
Lycaon's growl deepened into a snarl. His claws flexed. "I WILL END THIS GAME!"
Zack rolled his shoulders, smirking. "Alright, let's see who's game over here."
Lycaon's claws gleamed under the moonlight as he lunged at us, slashing wildly.
We barely dodged. His claws sliced through the air so fast I could hear the whistle of death brushing past my skin.
"When was the last time you trimmed those claws?" I muttered, taking a drag of my cigarette.
Zack saw an opening and moved in for a strike, his blade flashing in the night.
"Fool!" Lycaon roared.
With a single, brutal swing, he sent Zack flying. The impact shook the ground, dirt exploding around his body as his cigarette slipped from his fingers, burning out in the dirt.
Lycaon sneered. "I have an incredible sense of smell! You think you can fight me while reeking of smoke?!"
I barely took a step toward Zack before Lycaon's claws wrapped around my throat.
Then—he threw me.
My body smashed into a tree, bark cracking under the force.
My cigarette spun in the air before I hit the trunk, pain exploding through my ribs.
I gasped, coughing blood.
Damn... that hurt.
But why—why the hell am I smiling?
I turned my head, vision hazy, and saw Zack pushing himself up, blood dripping from his mouth-grinning.
Not just me.
We've gone completely insane.
I laughed, low and sharp, reaching for my cigarette still burning in the dirt.
I picked it up, took a long drag, and exhaled smoke through my bloodied lips.
"Not bad," I said, voice hoarse.
"But still not enough," Zack finished, rolling his shoulders.
Lycaon's eyes burned with fury, his muscles tensing like a coiled spring.
"COME AT ME, YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!" he roared.
The moment Lycaon roared, Zack and I were already moving.
I darted left while Zack lunged right, splitting his attention.
Lycaon snarled and swung at me first—his claws carving through the air, missing my face by an inch.
I twisted my body, ducking low, cigarette still between my fingers. The ember at the tip glowed in the darkness.
Zack took the opening, aiming straight for Lycaon's exposed ribs. His blade cut deep-but Lycaon barely reacted.
The wound closed almost instantly.
"You're really pissing me off," Lycaon growled.
He slammed his fist into the ground, sending a shockwave of dirt and debris into the air.
The force knocked us back, but I kept my grip on the cigarette.
As the dust settled, Lycaon locked onto me. "You're next."
He charged, faster than before. I could feel the wind pressure just from his movement.
Too fast.
No time to dodge.
So I did the only thing I could think of.
As his claws reached for me, I snapped my fingers, flicking the cigarette's burning ash straight into his eyes.
Lycaon howled in pain, stumbling back, clutching his face. His claws scraped his own skin in desperation.
Zack wasted zero time. He lunged forward and slammed his knee into Lycaon's gut, sending the beast staggering further.
"Nice trick," Zack smirked, wiping blood from his mouth.
I exhaled the last bit of smoke and flicked the cigarette away. "I'm full of surprises."
Zack and I pressed the attack, giving Lycaon no time to recover.
Zack moved with precision-his blade a blur of silver under the moonlight.
Every strike aimed for a weak spot: tendons, joints, vital areas. He wasn't trying to kill, just to disable.
I, on the other hand, didn't hold back.
Speed. Brutality. Efficiency.
I weaved around Lycaon's wild swings, landing precise blows where it hurt the most.
A sharp elbow to his ribs. A knee to his jaw. A sudden stomp to his ankle to throw off his balance.
Every hit was meant to break him down, piece by piece.
Lycaon roared in frustration, swinging his claws wildly—but I was already gone before he could land a single hit.
Zack took advantage of his rage, slashing across Lycaon's shoulder.
The blade sank deep. Lycaon howled, staggering back, but the wound healed in seconds.
"Damn it," Zack hissed. "His regeneration is still holding up.
"Then we don't give him time to use it," I muttered, eyes locked on Lycaon.
I closed the distance in an instant. My fist drove hard into his throat, cutting off his next roar.
Before he could react, I followed up—two rapid strikes to his solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him.
He stumbled back, gasping.
Zack didn't let him breathe. He spun low, slashing at Lycaon's legs.
The blade bit into muscle, forcing the beast to his knees.
"Stay. Down." Zack growled, pressing the tip of his knife against Lycaon's throat.
Lycaon panted heavily, sweat and blood dripping from his body. His eyes burned with fury-but beneath that, for the first time, there was something else.
Uncertainty.
I exhaled, rolling my shoulders. "Give up, Lycaon. You're not winning this."
His jaw clenched. His hands twitched, claws digging into the dirt.
Then, suddenly—he laughed.
A deep, guttural chuckle, rough and broken. "You two..." he muttered, looking up at us. "You really think this is over?"
My eyes narrowed.
Then—his body tensed. His muscles bulged.
And in an instant, I knew.
"Zack, move!"
Too late.
Lycaon exploded with power—his transformation accelerating beyond anything we'd seen before.
His fur darkened, his claws extended, his body grew.
And then—he attacked.
We were cornered.
Every time we tried to step in, Lycaon lashed out with terrifying force.
His claws tore through the air, cutting deep into the stone behind us.
One wrong move, and we'd be shredded apart. Zack gritted his teeth. "We can't even get close."
Lycaon's form loomed over us, his body larger, denser, his breathing ragged but unrelenting.
His eyes locked onto us like a predator savoring its prey.
"You're done," he growled, his voice deeper, more monstrous. "This time, I'll break every bone in your body."
"Tch. He's really trying to kill us this time." I growled.
Zack wiped blood from his cheek, keeping his knife steady. "No shit."
Lycaon lunged—fast. Too fast.
I barely managed to dodge, throwing myself to the side as his claws ripped through where I had been standing. Zack wasn't as lucky.
Lycaon's arm slammed into him, sending him crashing against the stone wall.
He gasped, his knife falling from his grip as he crumpled to the ground.
"Zack!"
Before I could react, Lycaon was already in front of me.
His massive claw shot forward, aiming straight for my throat.
Instinct kicked in-I twisted my body at the last second, his claws barely grazing my neck.
But even a near miss was brutal—I felt the wind pressure alone sting my skin.
I retaliated fast.
With a sharp pivot, I slammed my fist into his ribs-quick, brutal, and precise. It was like punching a steel wall.
Lycaon barely flinched.
His hand snapped forward, catching my wrist in a vice grip.
"Too slow."
With monstrous strength, he hurled me across the alleyway.
My back crashed against a wooden cart, splinters exploding everywhere.
Pain shot through my body, but-hell-I'd felt worse.
"Get up, Arche!" Zack's voice cut through the chaos.
I pushed myself up, vision swimming for a second. Zack was already back on his feet, knife in hand, blood dripping from his temple.
He exhaled sharply, adjusting his grip. "We need to hit him hard. Fast."
Lycaon cracked his knuckles. "You two just don't know when to stay down."
"You're right," I muttered, rolling my shoulders. "But neither do you."
Zack didn't hesitate.
He lunged, his knife flashing under the dim light. The blade sank deep into Lycaon's shoulder.
A sickening crunch echoed as Zack twisted it viciously.
"You little—!" Lycaon swung wildly, but he was disoriented-his attacks were no longer precise.
That was all I needed.
I rushed in, using sheer speed and brutal efficiency. My strikes were fast, targeting weak points-his joints, his ribs, his throat.
Every movement was meant to neutralize him as quickly as possible.
Lycaon staggered, but he wasn't down yet. "Not bad..." he growled, panting. "But I'm not done either."
His body twitched, muscles pulsing, his werewolf form shifting again.
Zack wiped his blade clean, glancing at me. "Round two?"
I smirked, "Damn right."
Lycaon's body pulsed again, his claws extending, his muscles tightening.
His breathing was ragged, but he was still grinning-still confident that he had the upper hand.
Zack adjusted his stance beside me, gripping his knife tighter. "We can't let him transform again."
I exhaled, realizing something. "No... we don't stop him."
Zack gave me a sharp look. "What?"
I cracked my neck, stepping forward. "I'm going to copy him."
Lycaon's ears twitched. "What the hell are you talking about?"
I didn't answer.
I focused.
I had been watching him—his stance, his movements, his strikes. He wasn't just strong, he was efficient.
There was a pattern to his attacks, an instinctual rhythm. If I could imitate that, refine it, and push it further...
I rushed forward.
Lycaon reacted immediately, swinging his claw in a brutal arc.
But I was already moving like him.
I dropped lower, twisting my body the way he did to maximize speed. His claws barely missed my head.
And then—I countered.
Using his own momentum against him, I launched a strike at his ribs, not with brute force, but precise force—aiming for weak points in his defenses.
Lycaon stumbled.
His eyes flickered in shock. "What the—?!"
I didn't let up.
I mimicked his next movement, the twisting counterstrike he had used earlier against Zack.
Only this time—I made it faster. Sharper.
My fist slammed into his jaw. His head snapped back, a sharp crack echoing through the trees.
"Holy shit..." Zack muttered, watching.
Lycaon snarled, shaking off the hit. "You think you can beat me by copying me? That won't work—!"
I vanished.
Before he could react, I was already behind him. I had learned his speed. Refined it.
My kick struck the back of his knee.
His leg buckled.
His balance wavered for the first time.
"No," I said, stepping closer, eyes locked onto his. "I'm not just copying you."
I grinned.
"I'm surpassing you."
Lycaon roared, his body surging with raw, primal power.
His fur bristled, muscles tensing as he pushed himself beyond his limits. His speed increased.
His strikes became more ferocious. He was at his strongest.
But it didn't matter.
Because I was faster.
Because I was stronger.
I had studied him. I had broken down his movements. And now-I was ahead of him.
Lycaon lunged, his claws aiming straight for my throat. But I had already shifted.
I mirrored his attack-twisting my body at the last second and driving my elbow into his ribs.
Crack.
He wheezed, stumbling back. "Shit!" he spat, eyes flaring with rage.
Zack didn't waste the opening.
He appeared behind Lycaon in an instant, blade flashing under the moonlight.
A deep slash tore across Lycaon's back.
"You're getting sloppy," Zack smirked.
Lycaon spun, swinging wildly, but I was already there. I caught his wrist mid-air and wrenched it to the side.
His entire body twisted with the force, leaving him completely exposed.
And then—I drove my knee straight into his gut.
"Gah—!" He doubled over, choking on air.
"You were saying something about us being idiots for fighting you?" I taunted, exhaling sharply.
"How's that working out for you?"
"Shut up!" he snarled, forcing himself up—only for Zack to drive a brutal punch into his face.
His head snapped to the side. Blood splattered against the dirt.
He staggered.
He was still strong.
Still dangerous.
But for the first time—he was losing.
"Damn it!" Lycaon growled, shaking, his breath ragged. "You—!"
I didn't let him finish. I stepped forward—fast, brutal, and precise.
Lycaon hit the ground hard, the impact shaking the dirt beneath him.
His breath came out in ragged gasps, his body trembling from exhaustion.
He tried to push himself up, but Zack and I were already standing over him.
"Looks like you lost," Zack said, rolling his shoulders. "Damn, that took longer than I expected."
"Tch..." Lycaon spat blood onto the ground, his sharp eyes still burning with defiance. "You bastards..."
I exhaled slowly, shaking out my sore knuckles. "I gotta say, you put up a hell of a fight. But in the end, skill beats brute strength."
Zack smirked. "And teamwork beats a lone wolf."
Lycaon's claws twitched, but his body refused to move. He was spent. He had given everything—and still, it wasn't enough.
"So," I crouched beside him, looking him in the eye.
"Are you gonna keep being stubborn, or are you finally ready to listen?"
His body slowly reverted to his human form, his ragged breaths visible in the cold night air.
"What the hell do you want from me?!" he growled.
I took a step forward, unfazed by his glare. "Explain. Why did you become a werewolf?"
Lycaon scoffed, shaking his head. "Tch... I won't repeat myself, you bastard."
Then, with a deep sigh, he began his story.
A long time ago, Lycaon and his son, Lykos, traveled across the land in search of a witch—one who could break Lykos' curse and restore his humanity.
During their journey, they met a girl—two years older than Lykos.
She was an ambitious blonde with piercing red eyes, her presence both commanding and alluring.
Her name was Cerise.
At first, she seemed like nothing more than a passing companion, but to Lykos, she was special.
Unlike others, she never flinched at his monstrous form. She smiled, laughed, and treated him as if he were just another person.
Lykos fell in love.
Lycaon saw no reason to object. If anything, he encouraged it.
Cerise had helped them, stood by their side, and even joined them in their travels.
For a while, it seemed like everything was falling into place.
But fate had other plans.
One day—everything changed.
One evening, under the golden glow of the setting sun, Cerise invited Lykos to take a walk into the forest.
Excited at the chance to be alone with her—away from his father—Lykos accepted without hesitation.
But unbeknownst to him, Lycaon was watching.
Curious about his son's love story, he couldn't help but follow, hiding in the shadows as he trailed behind them.
However, instead of witnessing a tender moment between young lovers—he saw something horrifying.
A deafening gunshot echoed through the trees. Lycaon's breath caught in his throat.
Lykos lay sprawled on the forest floor, lifeless. The shotgun in Cerise's hands still smoked from the shot.
"Oh? You were peeking? I should have realized that," Cerise mused, turning to face Lycaon as if she had merely stepped on an insect.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?!" Lycaon's voice was raw with grief and rage.
Cerise tilted her head, her crimson eyes gleaming with amusement. "Killed him, obviously. He was a monster."
"I thought I could trust you... but I can't!" Lycaon clenched his fists, trembling with fury.
"YOU'RE A DAMN TRAITOR, CERISE!"
"That just means you're unlucky," she said mockingly, "for trusting the wrong person."
Then, with a smirk, she added, "Besides, 'Cerise' isn't even my real name. That was just something my teacher gave me."
"My real name is Zero Five. I'm from the Lunar Ascendance organization."
Her voice dripped with arrogance as she took a slow step forward. "Nice to meet you properly. And my real job?"
She raised the shotgun, cocking it with a sharp click. "I'm not some cute maid. I'm a Badass Hunter."
Lycaon's vision turned red.
The rage inside him burned hotter than ever before. His muscles tensed, his bones cracked, and his skin erupted with thick fur.
Then, he understood.
The curse—Lykos' curse-had been passed onto him. His body grew larger, more powerful than ever before.
Fueled by fury, he lunged at her.
But no matter how hard he fought-no matter how fast, how strong, how relentless-he couldn't defeat her.
Cerise was too skilled. Too prepared.
And in the end, he was left with nothing but his son's corpse in his arms.
With no other choice, Lycaon fled.
Far from that wretched forest.
Far from that ruthless woman.
He buried Lykos in a place befitting a warrior. A son.
And from that moment forward, he had only one mission.
Revenge.
Hearing that, I was shocked.
Zero Five?!
Valth never mentioned anything about her in our last meeting.
A girl who's probably no older than eight? And they let her loose just like that?
Before I could even process it all—"What a coincidence!" Zack suddenly shouted.
Lycaon and I turned to him, confused.
"We just put together a team to take revenge on that damn organization!" Zack announced proudly, crossing his arms.
"My wife and my child, were killed by someone from that group."
"Arche suffered a hell of a lot because of them. And your beloved son?"
"He was murdered by Cerise—who just so happens to be one of their members too."
He pointed at Lycaon. "We share the same goal!"
I watched as Lycaon's eyes widened slightly. Zack's words carried weight—more than I could have put into words myself.
So I smiled, turned to Lycaon, and stretched out my hand.
"We're offering you a spot in our team."
His gaze flickered between me, my outstretched hand, and Zack.
Confusion, hesitation, and something else—something unreadable—flashed across his face.
"Can I trust you guys?" he asked, his voice low.
"We're not gonna stand here and tell you to believe in us," Zack said flatly.
"But I will say this loud and clear—" I clenched my fist.
"We will take down that damn organization and settle our scores!"
Zack let out a small chuckle. "That's all well and good, but we're forgetting something."
"We still don't have a team name." He said.
"...Shit, you're right," I muttered, realizing it just now.
Hearing all that, Lycaon let out a dry laugh.
"You guys haven't even decided on a name, but you already have the confidence to take down a whole damn organization?"
He scoffed. "What kind of team is this...?"
But then-his laughter faded, and for the first time, he actually smiled at us. BBM
"Fine. I'll join."
Then, his smile turned sharp. "But don't blame me if I decide to betray you one day."
I raised an eyebrow. "A team member who openly admits he could betray us at any time, huh?"
I smirked. "Sounds legit. You're in."
He took my hand and stood up. And just like that—our little team had gained a new member.
The three of us spent the night at a bar, playing cards and drinking like there wasn't a war waiting for us outside.
For a while, it was just laughter, strategy, and occasional cursing when someone lost a hand. But then—
"Isn't this a good time to discuss a name for our team?" Lycaon suddenly asked.
I grinned. "The Haters Team!"
"Absolutely not," Zack and Lycaon shot me down in unison.
I sighed, dramatically tossing my cards onto the table. "At least I tried."
With that, I refocused on my tarot cards, shuffling them between my fingers as the bar's noise filled the silence between us.
Then, Zack spoke up.
"What about Venganza?"
The name rolled off his tongue smoothly. It had weight, impact.
Lycaon and I exchanged glances.
"That's cool!"
"Yeah, definitely better than whatever the hell Arche suggested."
I shot Lycaon a glare, but I couldn't argue. That name was leagues better than mine.
Zack smirked. "And the leader of this team is you—Arche, the sin redeemer."
I went silent.
The sin redeemer, huh?
That title didn't fit anymore. My goal wasn't redemption.
It was revenge.
I needed a new name.
A new beginning.
I stared at the tarot cards in my hand, an idea forming in my mind. "Don't call me that again," I said, my voice firm.
I flicked a tarot card onto the center of the table—The Fool.
"My name is Arche the Fool Hero."
Lycaon raised an eyebrow. "That sounds more like an insult than a cool name, Arche."
Before I could respond, another card flew onto the table, landing directly on top of mine. The Death.
Zack grinned. "And my name now is Zack the Deathbringer."
Lycaon watched us, clearly unwilling to be left behind.
He sifted through the deck, searching for something that suited him.
Then, he found it.
With a smirk, he tossed a card onto the growing pile. The Strength.
"Then call me Lycaon the Wildbeast."
Yeah, that fit him perfectly.
With that, it was official.
Venganza—the team created to take revenge on Lunar Ascendance—was born.
Lycaon suddenly stood up, raising his arms like a victorious gladiator.
"WE ARE VENGANZA, BITCHESSS!"
The entire bar fell silent. Every head turned toward us.
I leaned toward Zack, whispering, "He's drunk."
"No doubt," Zack whispered back.
Lycaon frowned at us. "What? I thought you young people liked doing stuff like this."
I sighed. "Alright, old man, listen carefully—I'll explain everything."
And so, as the night stretched on, I laid out our next moves.
Step one: Recruit more people who had a grudge against Lunar Ascendance.
Step two: Go to war.
Lycaon leaned back, arms crossed. "By the way, after this city, where are we headed next?"
I smirked and picked up another tarot card, flicking it onto the table.
Zack and Lycaon glanced at it.
The Empress.
I met their eyes.
"We will meet our next recruit."
Revenge is not justice, but sometimes it's the only language the world understands.