Werewolf Hunting Rules.

Chapter 517: Picky
“Abigail must have foreseen what would happen here. If she gets in the way, hand her over to me,” Julius said to Clayton, who was searching for the entrance to the underground space.

Clayton nodded silently.

The prophetess, walking along the road with five attendants, felt a chill. She raised her head and stared at the moon with her blind eyes. After a few breaths, the moonlight condensed into strands that entered her pupils, giving her eyes a pearly white luster.

Countless black dots swirled within it.

She bowed her head and prayed to the most primitive prophets.

The winged prophet danced under the sun and moon, danced by the fire, and so the dance continued day and night, revealing countless fragments of the future.

As a prophet, she understood better than anyone how to touch the future and the risks of changing it.

But sometimes people have no choice but to take risks.

She must stop Clayton Bello and Albert from striking the Witchcraft Society, even though she fears the contagious curse on Clayton and dares not make a proper divination about him and his followers, she must still fight in this murky water full of unknowns.

Abigail couldn't predict theories and knowledge that had never appeared in the world, but she believed that the possibility of perfectly repairing the body was just around the corner, only one push away.

If the technological development process is interrupted by these two idiots, even if she succeeds in the future, it will probably not be her time.

She knew that the present was more important than the future.

Julius had no idea what kind of determination Abigail was making, nor did he care.

Using only his less-than-sophisticated knowledge of chemistry, he wiped out countless chimeras and darkin. The fragility of the Lich King was beyond his imagination, which fueled his ambition. Perhaps the wolf blood of Clayton Bello also played a role, but that didn't matter.

Because that's what he wanted to do.

The Witchcraft Society was just the beginning; he didn't expect to gain anything from it. His real target was the prophetess of the Temple of Truth.

A wizard's reputation is built through victories over his peers.

Under normal circumstances, Julius wouldn't even be able to get close to Abigail, but with Clayton here, he finally had a chance to approach her.

enough.

Cold air rushed in through the broken windows, cooling the building that had just been scorched.

Julius stretched his arms, whose veins were dark, and felt no cold at all. For the first time, the surge of strength made him think that giving up on maintaining his physique for this reason wasn't a bad idea.

"So, why are you always picking fights in Weiardi?" he asked Black Wolf Clayton, his mood not bad.

The wolf lowered its head, pressing its triangular ears to the ground to detect the subtle vibrations beneath: "This isn't me starting trouble. You should ask these people why they want to make the world worse after they've got everything."

“Because people are never satisfied,” Julius said.

"But before pursuing profit, people should first fulfill their responsibilities," the wolf said, its head pressed to the side, its four legs cautiously shuffling forward.

"Ah~ I don't understand that."

“For example, if I visit the Black Castle in Conionne, I am the guest and they are the hosts. Even if I conceal my origins, their attack on me is a violation of hospitality.”

“That makes some sense,” Julius said with interest. “Does the Council of Truth also have its own responsibilities?”

"Of course. The prophet's duty is to reveal good and bad fortune to people, and his purpose is to lead them toward a happy future. But in the True Word, I only see many people being hurt because of their collusion with the witchcraft society."

"Then how did the Friendship Association violate its duties?"

The wolf raised its head, turned around, and looked at him seriously.

"Don't you really think they made a mistake?"

"I can't imagine."

"They failed to fulfill their responsibilities as government and failed to instill confidence in the people."

“But they gave the citizens enough freedom,” Julius said, finding it somewhat odd to discuss this topic at a time when every second counts in hunting down the enemy, but also quite interesting. “Do you think it’s acceptable for government officials to stand idly by and allow endless chaos and leniency to occur in the city?”

“Government authority should have boundaries. As the wise men of the past said, ‘A good ruler does not let the people know of his existence.’”

Clayton clearly disagreed: "This wise man of the past may have lived five hundred years ago, or even a thousand years ago. Civilization strives for progress, not stagnation. If the existence of local government makes no difference, then it should not exist. Besides, these rulers themselves are criminals."

The wizard laughed, he had never realized that Clayton was such a naive person: "Clayton, these people's crimes are not considered crimes. When they are in this position, they have the power and means to fabricate charges and send anyone to the gallows."

"So did you see them fabricating charges?" Clayton countered.

Julius was taken aback.

“No, right?” Clayton said calmly. “Procedural justice doesn’t exist either. They take it for granted that they own this city, and they’re too lazy to even pretend to be impartial law enforcers. They’re abusing their power. They hire hitmen and werewolves to secretly execute competitors from out of town and people who don’t get along with the Friendship Society. Even their fight with Conionne was like that. They didn’t even dare to say that they were suppressing a rebellion.”

"Just because of that?"

“If you were to ask me what else they did that annoyed me, I could give you more examples, but their dereliction of duty alone is enough to justify my dislike for them. A fight without legal backing is murder, and the government should not commit murder. As a citizen, I must protest,” Clayton said.

“Murder is something only people like us do!” he concluded with a complex mix of emotions.

"People like us."

He just said he was a citizen, and now he says murder is something people like him do.

Julius paused, stabilizing his smile as he raised an eyebrow: "Is this categorization derogatory or complimentary?"

“Of course it’s derogatory,” Clayton said decisively, then grinned from the tip of his kiss, revealing a chilling smile. “But it doesn’t matter, we’re not exactly good people either.”

Julius finally couldn't help but laugh twice.

That's a very apt assessment.

The entrance to the underground space was quickly found in the corner of the archives. Blowing away the dust from the carpet, the square black iron door was still scorching hot.

Julius used Clayton's cane to pry open the door handle, revealing a staircase leading into the darkness below, where there was silence, the sound of breathing, or perhaps just the movement of air.

"If only there was some ether left," he said regretfully.

For dealing with such unknown confined spaces, both the properties of ether anesthesia and its flammability are effective, but unfortunately, it had already been used up.

“We can’t go down through this entrance; the people inside must already be lying in wait at the door,” Clayton said. “If your psychic powers can penetrate this floor, then look for other exits along this path. To keep it hidden, the back doors of these kinds of secret passages are usually not guarded; the entrances and exits are simply concealed by the surrounding environment. I’ll make a little noise here to attract their attention and come find you in half an hour.”

Good idea, Julius thought, he had learned something new, whether it was about Clayton or exploring dungeons.

He also warned Clayton, "The Witch Doctors don't only have this many people; Abigail and her people could arrive at any time."

The werewolf hunters' weapons are infused with silver, specifically to counteract curses. The wounds they inflicted on Clayton Bello have not yet healed; the gash on his left hip is so large that a row of fingers could almost fit inside. Facing the same opponent again, in his current condition, he might not be able to win a second time.

“I know,” Clayton replied. “I’m not the kind of person who would be ashamed of running away, you can rest assured of that.”

The two parted ways.

Julius believes he understands this person better now.

He's a terrible bastard.

Although it is unknown what triggered him in Weau, he was noticeably more decisive in expressing his thoughts than before, perhaps influenced by his friend in the Friendship Association.

Julius liked the change, as did the elders of the Presbyterian Church, as it made communication easier.

Material needs and moral values ​​make up a person, and Clayton is showing him the human aspect of himself.

I've been working on my thesis lately, so my update frequency has decreased. I apologize for that.