Werewolf Hunting Rules.

Chapter 482 Suffering in Place of Others
The wizard Serbergam looked at the chessboard on the table in the lamplight.

His room was small, but that gave him a sense of security, as he felt in control of everything, and only one other person shared this small territory with him.

On the chessboard in front of him, the black pieces seemed to have a life of their own, moving slowly and converging in one place.

Of the sixteen pieces, four have fallen, simulating death on the chessboard of this simulated battlefield. The characters they represent are indeed dead.

Two of the pieces were lying next to each other on the same square.

Chariots and knights.

Mandicarb and the mummy.

There was also a chariot and a queen surrounding them.

The bishop piece, which had been intermittently sliding around the board, also stopped near this square. It and the chariot had stopped here once before, but they separated later, and now they have returned here.

"Where is this?" Serbergam asked without looking up, pointing at the strange chessboard.

[Leader]

An ancient artifact designed and built for the military to remotely control military formations, but abandoned because it could not adapt to rapidly evolving and changing tactics, eventually fell into the hands of a collector in the Friendship Society. Time has eroded some of its power, but after incomplete restoration, it remains crucial to the Friendship Society's plans.

The plan to fight fire with fire wasn't entirely reckless; the chess pieces that came with the board had already secretly established a connection with the cursed beings deployed by the Society of Friendship. While Serbergam couldn't control those powerful monsters through it, he could still understand their situation by observing the movements of the pieces and transmit some simple, veiled commands.

This instruction is vague; when the monsters are unaware of it, it is taken as their own thoughts and acted upon. However, if there is strong external intervention, the instruction will become ineffective.

If the monsters sense the presence of the clues, then this safe house in the West District will no longer be safe.

Therefore, there were other guards around Serbergam.

After a short wait, the local guard gunner next to him took a map of the North District, placed it next to the chessboard, and then pointed out the area that corresponded to the chessboard.

"It should be here. This is Cocoon Street. The people who live here are only slightly better off than beggars."

Sebergan frowned: "It's too remote. Conionai has no reason to take this route. Could it be members of those societies?"

He didn't consider that the loss of pieces was the result of infighting. Prohibiting infighting was one of the only two commands he issued using the chessboard. The other command was a directional command, to prevent these monsters from moving south and becoming knives that would stab the Friendship Society itself.

Figo Hutton didn't hire him to deal with the society; he didn't want to bother.

“Even if those small societies put all their efforts into it, they might not be able to destroy a monster like this. Only the Lich King has this power; they have gathered a lot of Darkin. But they are a loose organization, and providing hiding places for other members is almost their limit. No one is willing to risk fighting for others unless it is at the request of the Lich King.”

"The Charming Candy House and the Witchcraft Guild seem to have some connection. Weren't they involved in the destruction of the factory?" the wizard pressed.

The gunman patiently explained, “With three pieces gathered together, the opponents they're facing must be extraordinary. I tend to think they have multiple enemies, and the Witchcraft Guild—even if they participate in the battle, I don't think they'll act collectively. Just like us, they always have to consider Conionne's movements to avoid attracting the attention of the enemy, lest the werewolves crush them while attacking us.”

Although both are used to going naked, werewolves who believe in God the Father and worshippers of Inath are not the same kind of people.

"So it's those Dark Ones who are attached to Conionne?"

The gunman fell silent, stroking his shotgun as he pondered. It was already loaded with silver shotgun shells, ready to fire at any moment—their guarantee for a safe night.

Without waiting for a reply from his companion, Serbergam drew his own conclusion.

"Lets see."

Those who form associations will not have the determination to fight to the death.

If the two pieces are destroyed here again, they will undoubtedly be from Kongionai's faction. He will then drive the two bishops to fulfill their "preaching" duties, attracting all other monsters to them. Monsters implanted with bishop pieces all have this ability.

On the black and white chessboard, the chariot and queen pieces trembled rapidly, as if they were fighting an unseen enemy.

The dull thud is the sound of metal being crushed into flesh.

With one end rounded like a ring seal and the other end sharp like a raven's beak, the long-handled hammer, entirely black, flew back and forth in Clayton Bello's hands. He frequently leaped and moved, using the narrow environment of the North District streets to restrict Lamia's movements, dodging the heavy impacts that sometimes swirled and sometimes rammed, while seizing every opportunity to strike the snake's tough scales with each blow.

The crow's beak pierced the scales like an armor-piercing cone, drawing blood. Then the blunt end of the warhammer struck the same spot, destroying the scales' integrity. The scales then easily dented and cracked in clusters under the blunt impact.

The long period of dodging did not tire Clayton out; thanks to the power of the Builders, he could recover his stamina with each successful attack.

This ability is less effective in battles against humans, because few humans survive a single blow, and there are few opportunities to recover their strength. It is only when fighting these resilient monsters that the Builder can fully realize its potential.

Clayton could hardly help but suspect that this might also be part of Norris's calculations.

"That bastard has a guilty conscience and is trying to find someone to atone for his sins!"

Lamia didn't give him a chance to calm down and think. She swung her tail energetically, forcing Clayton to dodge again.

The current injuries are not considered serious for a large banshee; in fact, it could be said that Lamia did it intentionally.

No longer attacking her opponents with her claws, Mandikera's death taught Lamia a lesson. She raised her vulnerable human body and used only her powerful serpentine body to lash out at her opponents, even though doing so would prevent some techniques from being used smoothly or from being fully effective. This allowed Clayton to seize opportunities to dodge and injure himself time and time again.

These shattered scales and flowing blood were considered as payment in advance for taking the other's life.

She believed that time was on her side. Her confidence stemmed from the presence of Ramashtu's daughter beside her.

The humanoid lioness leaped onto the roof, raising a blue two-headed snake in her hand, chanting incantations in an unknown language. Both heads of the snake pointed at Clayton, following his movements.

Ramashtu has seven names and is known as the Seven Witches; their descendants also possess the ability to cast spells.

In short, she is a sorceress of a non-human race.

The two-headed snake's four small, round black eyes transform magic into disease, which is then projected onto its prey. Normally, sensations of intense heat and cold will circulate in the prey's blood vessels, accompanied by aches and pains in the joints, difficulty breathing, and muscle weakness.

But the werewolf didn't sense any of these things.

That's a disease for humans; to make him feel pain, Ramashtu's daughter will have to work harder.

However, he could use this to his advantage.
"Cough—" Clayton's movements faltered, and the weapon in his hand almost fell to the ground.

Lamia grinned and lunged forward, convinced that the disease curse had already taken effect on her prey, and thus she no longer hesitated.

But as the moment approached, perhaps fate was still on her side, she suddenly felt doubtful again. So she raised her body again, using the middle of her snake body as a fulcrum to swing the latter half. The thick, long snake tail lashed down at Clayton. Seeing that the tactic had failed, Clayton did not choose to defend himself, but instead lunged to the side without hesitation, listening to the piercing whistling sound as it brushed past his head.

This method had never failed with Lamia—as long as she remained cautious—but Clayton heard another slight sound as he lay face down.

After rolling around once, he grabbed the builder and used the ground for leverage, quickly got up and then pounced and rolled again.

A heavy thud echoed from nearby.

Before Clayton could even see the figure of Ramashtu's daughter, he could already smell the loathsome and rotten aura of that female beast.

Realizing that the disease curse was ineffective, the lioness decided to take matters into her own hands.

The barefoot, still covered in lion's mane, struck Clayton hard in the side, sending his strong, muscular body tumbling like a crumpled old newspaper in the wind as he faced the oncoming Lamia.

The seven witches' offspring's pets were simultaneously thrown, hitting the warrior's long-handled warhammer squarely in his hand. It instinctively wrapped around his hand, its small, sharp fangs poised to strike, but was quickly thrown away by the warrior along with his weapon.

The warriors who lost their weapons also lost their threat.

Lamia was finally relieved. She lunged down at Clayton, who was lying on the ground, determined to tear him to pieces with her claws. But her prey suddenly arched his back and pounced in a strange, four-limbed position, escaping before her claws could reach him.

Are you a human?

Lamia paused, sensing where the escaped prey had appeared.

He was climbing behind her.

The snake's body is difficult to turn quickly. She bent down and reached behind her with her backhand, but was a beat slow due to the restriction of her joints. Clayton leaped over the part she was scratching and reached the highest point.

Ramashtu's daughter also saw him.

Clayton placed his left hand on Lamia's forehead and leaned back on his left shoulder, while his right hand gently covered her slender and beautiful neck, their posture intimate like that of a couple.

The man's shoulder-length hair was disheveled, along with his messy beard from the battle, which almost completely covered his face.

Only those yellow eyes were unusually bright.

The lioness saw his mouth open beneath his whiskers, revealing his gleaming white teeth, which became a second color on his face.

“Say goodbye to your good friend,” he said kindly, his right hand, which was on Lamia’s neck, swiftly swiping to the right.

Gentle fingers caressed and stroked the fair skin, leaving behind four claw marks, from which a large amount of blood gushed out.

No longer able to care about him, Lamia reached out to stop the blood from gushing out, but she couldn't stop it. Her tall body swayed precariously, and before she could fall, Clayton abandoned her and jumped off her.

He walked up to his weapon and stomped on the two-headed snake on it.

The snake's body is exceptionally tough, and it was not seriously injured by being trampled. The part of its body that was not trampled raised up and bit Clayton's ankle.

However, they made no progress.

The rapidly growing black fur stretched open the fangs, and the force of the stomping on the snake's body also increased exponentially.

The beast-like feet pierced through the leather shoes and continued to grind, eventually turning the two-headed snake into a puddle of flesh.

Clayton, who was doing all this, hunched over and peered at the daughter of Ramashtu in a manner quite unlike that of a human. His mouth was split open to his ears. Only then did Ramia's body collapse behind him with a thud.

Unable to tolerate this provocation, the lioness roared and charged. A broken leaf from an evergreen plant fell beside her in the wind and immediately turned yellow.
“The chariot and the queen are both dead. It seems they encountered a large force from Conionnai.” Sebergan glanced at his companion.

The gunman nodded.

Serbergan looked down at the chessboard.

"Then let our bishops begin their sermons."