Werewolf Hunting Rules.

Chapter 484 Clouds and Sun

The howling from the north continued unabated, while Conionai had already arrived.

Perhaps they split up, or perhaps their allies were fighting off the monsters that the Friendship Society had released into the North, the commander reasoned, but what was happening in the distance could not possibly affect the situation he was facing now.

Conionnai's main force has arrived.

Thirty werewolves? Or forty, or even more?

He couldn't count them all; he could only see the pack of wolves rolling in from the far end of the street through the gaps between the buildings. The scent of the beasts arrived here ahead of him on the wind. Countless black backs rose and fell as they ran, like ripples on the water, reminding him of the great river on which the city depended for survival but had been thoroughly polluted.

The commander of the northern front, his face hidden behind a helmet, waved his hand, signaling the snipers to begin their work.

Their apartment building was five stories high, and there were many traps between it and the defenses across the street, so the werewolves wouldn't be able to get through so easily.

Bulk-loading rifles of the same caliber are less powerful than muzzle-loading rifles, so they all used muzzle-loading rifles to penetrate the werewolves' tough bodies. However, given that the bullets were made of silver, which is harder than lead, and the barrels were rifling, loading was extremely difficult, requiring snipers to seize every opportunity to fire.

Snipers inside the building and on the rooftop were ready to set up their guns and aim at suitable targets among the wolves through the gaps.

But a figure appeared from the rooftop across the street, drawing their attention.

A handsome, dark-haired man wearing a long, black cloak emerged from behind the rooftop slope. He wore a gold headband, and his dark clothes were overshadowed by a suit of jewelry, making it difficult to discern his style. However, he was clearly wearing a pair of brown leather boots, and a longsword was at his waist.

The man narrowed his eyes, his bloodshot gaze fixed on the snipers on another floor at the same height, his left hand gripping the hilt of his sword.

He was probably a werewolf, but instead of transforming into his most powerful form, he chose to use a weapon. No one thought he could threaten them by leaping more than fifteen yards in human form, so the action seemed very strange.

While the snipers were still in surprise, the commander had already recognized the other person and pointed at him.

"Kill him first! He's Opiros, the opinion leader of that group of devil-cursed country bumpkins!"

Conionne is a man who associates with the devil and intends to use evil supernatural forces to coerce the country bumpkins near the city into overthrowing Weaudi's legitimate government and stealing job opportunities from the city dwellers. This is what the Friendship Association has been promoting these past few days.

The snipers turned their guns on Opiros and opened fire in waves.

However, just as they raised their guns, Opiros suddenly reached out his right hand, pulled up the hem of his cloak, and draped it to the left, concealing his figure behind the large cloak.

The bullet struck the cloak precisely, yet caused no impact whatsoever.

Because Opiros has disappeared.

He vanished from the spot, his black silk cloak falling to the rooftop by gravity, then billowing up again in the wind. In the air, its shape shifted constantly, almost disappearing into the dark sky, like a dark cloud flying towards the rooftop where the sniper was.

Two more bullets struck the long black cloak, but it remained unchanged, continuing to drift with the wind and soon to float over the snipers' heads.

A sniper attaches a bayonet to his rifle, raises it, and prepares to intercept the elusive object.

Silk is a very expensive fabric, and he hoped to capture it.

The cloak, which had been billowing in the air, came to a stop after hitting the bayonet. He leveled his rifle and reached out to take off the cloak, but his left hand was tightly grabbed by a stranger's hand.

From the folds of the cloak emerged a man's hand adorned with rings, followed by another hand.

A hand holding a sharp sword.

With a single thrust, the sword pierced the sniper's body, and the ornately dressed Opiros emerged from his cloak, his feet landing on the ground once more. The black silk cloak remained neatly tied around his neck, as if it had never been removed.

The atmosphere on the rooftop froze.

Everyone was startled by Opius's sudden appearance.

The enemy they thought they couldn't reach just moments before was now standing right in front of them—something they hadn't anticipated at all.

Downstairs, the first wave of wolves had already crashed into the defenses. They couldn't see what was happening; all they could hear were screams echoing in their ears. They had no time to help their companions.

They hastily attached bayonets to their empty rifles, then moved towards a central point, preparing to engage the enemy with a pistol formation. Their commander stood behind them, rapidly loading his pistol, ready to fire again at any opportunity. Opiros brandished his longsword, wiping the blood from its tip, and walked step by step towards them.

He wanted to clear the entire roof—as quickly as possible.

Even though he forcibly suppressed the desire for curses with reason and did not fight in his wolf form, a bloodthirsty ecstasy was already brewing in the Black Claw Chieftain's blood, which was gradually boiling. He wanted to end it quickly, to end this feeling of being out of control that he loathed.

Compared to his own kind, his resistance to using his true form in combat was almost abnormal.

Because of this resistance, he lacks experience in fighting in his true form and is not good at fighting enemies who are also monsters.

But that doesn't mean he's weak.

He is extremely, extremely good at killing.

"Hahahahahaha!"

The werewolves of the Bello family sat on the long street stained with blood and piled with the remains of other creatures, laughing loudly.

Of course it can laugh; as the ultimate victor, it has the right to laugh.

Its black fur clung to its body after being covered in blood, making it look wretched. But even with several sharp teeth broken, its muscular left arm fractured into several pieces, and a large crater smashed into its chest, it remained cheerful.

After killing Ramashtu's daughter, the evil creatures in the sky summoned even more monsters.

They are all formidable and respectable adversaries, each possessing unique abilities and the power to kill. To defeat them, one must constantly seek out their weaknesses and fully utilize one's own strengths.

An enemy stronger than oneself must be defeated using skill and weaponry.

If the enemy's skills surpass your own, you force your opponent to engage in a contest of strength with you.

When facing an opponent with unusual abilities, maintaining distance and finding weaknesses is key.

Monsters that are rarely seen appeared one after another. Clayton had never been so excited. He completely abandoned his previous promise not to interfere in Weaudi's affairs. Since they were all coming for him and trying to kill him, could he run away like a coward?
He needs to enjoy himself properly.

The Water Horse's fangs crushed his left arm bone. In return, he used his teeth, strengthened by the Tooth Fairy, to bite open the Water Horse's scale-covered throat, and then ate his own food first in the eating contest.

The headless knight, wielding a silver-plated longsword, skillfully sliced ​​through the werewolf's flesh and entrails. He relied on impenetrable armor and an immortal body that could only be destroyed by finding its head; his battle cry had no effect on the earless creature. Clayton, dragging the knight down with a wrestling motion, plunged his claws into its neck, pulled out its spine, and sealed the undead's ability to move.

Krampus swung the tree trunk, shattering Krampus's arms and ribs. After the trunk broke, he used his fists as weapons, almost crushing Clayton to pieces. However, Clayton seized the opportunity and used the headless knight's sword to unleash the sword technique he had just learned from its master, unexpectedly severing Krampus's right hand to escape. He then harassed Krampus, constantly inflicting bleeding wounds on him. After a long chase, Krampus lost his strength and was beheaded by Clayton who returned.

The blind man, whose limbs were covered in long swords, wove his wielding blades into a giant net, making it difficult to get close. Clayton threw bricks to distract him, then found an opening and struck the swordsman's torso with a punch in the style of Kampus's signature boxing, before smashing his head with the Builder.

The knife-wielding man's limbs were severed to deal with a tall, man-eating tree that swung its branches. Moving via its living roots, it could attack from both above and below. Clayton's right hind leg was broken, and his newly healed chest was dented again. However, after clearing away the remaining branches, the tree's threat level dropped significantly. He ate something to regain his strength, then chased after it and chopped it into a pile of firewood.

Kill one, and another will come.

The werewolf's physical condition fluctuates like the tides. After expending a great deal of energy, it replenishes itself by feeding on the flesh and blood of the defeated. The city builders also help it recover from its severe injuries, allowing it to maintain its strength and return to the next battle.

Clayton's mind was sharpened by the improvisational nature of the battle, and his previously dormant inspiration was revived. If given some time, he believed he could write more than one beautiful collection of poems, or create a great sculpture that would be passed down through generations. He might even master painting techniques in an instant.

This inspiration manifests in combat as the fighting techniques employed by defeated foes gradually integrate into Clayton's combat system, which he absorbs and transforms to deal with future formidable opponents. He learns and applies any technique that empowers him without prejudice, as naturally as he draws essence from corpses to strengthen his body, and he derives immense pleasure from it.

Everything fell into place, and Clayton unleashed his power, letting blood flow freely.

Aside from the flying cartographer and the piper who had been hiding himself, he had eliminated all his opponents who could be killed, and his body was covered with wounds that would not heal in a short time, but he still felt his blood surging and his hunting desire rising.

This meant that the curse had left an indelible mark on him, but Clayton was not discouraged by it; he no longer viewed it as a negative thing as he had in the past.

On the contrary, he felt incredibly sacred.

He is like a majestic sun, tirelessly releasing his heat. The warmth he brings benefits all things and can melt away any existence that dares to approach him.

Clayton even had an incredibly arrogant thought—perhaps at this moment, among all the people in the world, only his feelings were closest to those of God.