Long ago, when humanity was still skeptical and modernization was only beginning, the world lay immersed in deep darkness. Vast and shadowy forests concealed secrets no one dared to imagine. The wind that blew was treacherous, capable of shifting toward the unknown at any moment, silently carrying the voices of those who had passed. And the moon that hung in the sky every night was the reincarnated light of pure chaos—something humanity had never witnessed before. At that time, an ancient legend was whispered among the villagers: the story of the wolf-man, the lycanthrope, whose terrifying name was the Werewolf.
When the sun set, darkness would calmly take over the world, and the powerful full moon—the source that amplified its wild supernatural power—would rise in the sky. Under that light, a strange man of unknown origins, driven by murky malice and evil intentions, would become a murderous beast and roam the dark forests. His howls were long and deafening, striking terror into anyone who heard them. He was strong enough to invade villages, tearing down their defenses; insane enough to rip bodies apart and tear out their organs; and hungry enough to devour his victims completely. Thus, the long night would pass with him hunting and feeding until dawn—which always seemed delayed, as the sun would only rise after countless villages had been entirely consumed.
Over the years, he became known as the Werewolf Present in the Night. Day after day, the beast did the same thing—hunting every night and feeding endlessly on the bodies of its victims. Even without the full moon, he was always there, hungry and hunting.
As a result, the chaos caused by his monstrous activities was catastrophic—so great that it began to reduce the population of the land. Unable to endure the beast's atrocities any longer, werewolf hunters emerged: a group of brave men who swore to protect their families. They relentlessly hunted the killer beast with their bows and crossbows loaded with silver arrows, and firearms filled with silver ammunition. The hunt was not easy, and many died in the long process, but they did not give up. For months, they pursued the creature until they nearly killed it—but the wounded and dying beast managed to escape.
Since then, the beast has never been seen again. People forgot about it—its savage and bloody history filled with screams and terror. Today, they camp in dark and dangerous forests without concern, celebrate, and remain completely unprotected until dawn. Everyone believes the beast has disappeared completely, taking its story with it. But I, Harry Garnet, son of Stone Garnet—the man who led the hunters and mortally wounded it decades ago—still believe that somewhere deep and dark, quiet and hidden, the most terrible beast in the world lies in wait, watching for the right moment to strike again.
And that forest is, without a doubt, the North Kounkamicon Forest, on Kounkamicon Island. I have been tracking it for a long time. I, my father's son, will not allow it to hurt anyone else. Because today, I will hunt it down and kill it—even if I have to sacrifice the few days I have left in this world. Because I am Harry Garnet: the werewolf hunter.
Old Harry Garnet finished writing in his hunter's journal, a small black hardcover book. The deep wrinkles on his dark skin were a testament to decades of effort. He was 75 years old, with short white hair, brown eyes, and dressed in black hunter's clothing—jacket, pants, boots, and gloves. He sat inside his black van, with dark tires and tinted windows. In the back of the van was an arsenal: bows and silver arrows, revolvers loaded with silver bullets, and silver knives of various shapes and sizes.
He placed the journal in the glove compartment, gripped the steering wheel, and started the engine. With a determined look, he said:
— I will kill you today, Werewolf Present in the Night. After all this time, I will finally fulfill the promise I made to my father while he was still alive: to kill you.
Then he drove off, with classic rock music playing on the radio, signaling the werewolf's imminent end. The van moved across a vast plain covered in green grass, with a massive boreal forest in the distance. The sun shone brightly, creating an energetic morning with few clouds in the sky. Old Harry was heading toward the place he had chosen himself: the North Kounkamicon Forest, to put an end to the Werewolf Present In The Night