Wizard: This witcher is neglecting his duties.

Chapter 65 Fighting

Hearing the werewolf's roar filled with anger and sorrow, Wayne remained unmoved and calmly said:

"It may not be wrong to seek revenge for a loved one, but it is absolutely wrong to involve innocent people and hurt them."

"Werewolf, if you still retain human rationality, release the lumberjacks you captured, and I can help you find the murderers who harmed your wife."

"If you have become the murderer of innocent people, then you are no different from those villains who harmed your wife."

The werewolf seemed even angrier upon hearing this, letting out a roar through the wooden door before saying:

"You are indeed just like the legends say, all emotionless monsters."

"For revenge, I no longer care if my hands are stained with blood. Those guys are unwilling to cooperate with me at all; they are all accomplices protecting the murderer."

"I will keep searching until I find the murderer from that day, even if it means killing all the lumberjacks in this area."

Upon hearing this answer, Wayne understood that he was ultimately a cursed monster, his mind filled with rage and bloodlust.

It's estimated that this attack on the lumberjacks wasn't the first time the werewolves had done this. Perhaps because finding a few murderers in the vast sea of ​​people is too difficult, the werewolves have transferred their hatred for the murderers to the entire lumberjack community.

He silently cast an enhanced version of the Quen Shield on himself, took an alchemical bomb from his belt with his left hand, and shouted into the room:

"In that case, werewolf, come out."

"Once you kill me, no one here can stop you."

"Perhaps revenge is just an excuse for you; you simply enjoy killing."

Faced with Wayne's provocation, the werewolf could no longer suppress his destructive impulses. He roared and burst through the door, lunging towards Wayne outside.

Wayne's eyes narrowed, and he instantly threw the alchemical bomb he was holding in his left hand at the werewolf who was lunging at him.

With a muffled bang, not the sound of gunpowder exploding, a large amount of silvery-white dust exploded instantly, forming a dense silver smoke that enveloped the werewolf in a layer of fluorescent light.

This is the Moon Dust Bomb. Its main components are silver powder, a small amount of magic-blocking gold, and other special herbal powders that target curses. It is very effective against monsters formed by magic or curses, as well as ghosts and evil spirits that do not have a normal form.

It is the nemesis of werewolves, not only continuously damaging their bodies but also effectively suppressing their regeneration abilities, thus depriving them of the ability to fight for extended periods.

The werewolf in mid-air was hit squarely, and couldn't help but let out a painful roar, shouting in an angry voice:

"That despicable witcher!"

Wayne, however, didn't take it to heart. In the principles of a Witcher, dealing with monsters meant using any means necessary, including poison, traps, and bombs. Insidiousness and despicableness were actually a form of praise.

Otherwise, how could a witcher, who is merely made of flesh and blood, fight against the millions of terrifying monsters in the world?

He raised his master-level silver sword, quickly stepped back to the side, and dodged the furious werewolf's outstretched claws.

Taking this opportunity, I slashed at the werewolf's belly, where there were no bones to protect it, successfully leaving a bloody wound on its side. The cursed oil on the blade also entered its body through the wound and began to damage its internal organs.

Ultimately, he was merely a werewolf transformed from a hunter, lacking true martial arts skills and able only to fight relying on the wildness in his bloodline.

The werewolf let out another roar filled with pain, but its movements did not stop at all. It gripped the ground with its claws, forcibly twisted its body, and swung its two sharp claws at Wayne to its side.

Werewolves are monsters that combine agility and strength; the speed at which they swing their claws is no less than the slashing of a master swordsman.

With both hands gripping his sword, Wayne accurately deflected and parried several claw attacks before delivering a powerful kick to the werewolf's slashed side, splattering blood everywhere. Amid the werewolf's agonizing howls, Wayne used the momentum to flip back several steps.

As soon as he regained his footing, he quickly drew an Igni sign in the air with his left hand, and then pushed it out, engulfing the werewolf not far away in flames.

The fur is weak against fire, and the gray fur on the werewolf's back was instantly ignited by the flames. Even the werewolf's head, ears, and beard were all on fire.

what!what!what!

The burning flames instantly triggered the werewolf's sense of pain, while the flames covering its head further obstructed its vision.

Fire is a fear etched into the very bones of all living beings.

Anger and fear made the werewolf even more frenzied. It wildly swung its two claws, trying to stop the witcher from getting closer with this wide-ranging attack.

Wayne, however, did not approach. He took a Dragon's Dream Bomb from his belt and threw it at the crazed werewolf.

With a loud bang, the bomb was quite powerful. The flammable material inside Dragon Dream not only intensified the fire on the werewolf's body, but also directly caused the werewolf to stagger, leaving his entire body charred black.

Seizing the opening, Wayne immediately flashed forward and, taking advantage of the werewolf's wide-open chest, gripped the Master-level Silver Sword with both hands and unleashed a full-force strike at the werewolf's heart.

Bones shattered, blood splattered everywhere!

This sword truly lives up to its reputation as a masterpiece craftsman's work; when it struck the werewolf, it was as if it had struck a piece of rotten tree bark.

Wayne felt only a slight resistance before the sharp blade cleanly sliced ​​through several of the werewolf's ribs and its heart, which was protected by the ribs.

With a pained and desperate howl, the werewolf could no longer control his body, staggered back a few steps, and knelt on one knee.

His entire body was covered in silver powder and scorched by raging flames. Now, huge wounds have been cut open in his abdomen and heart area. Even a werewolf could not withstand such injuries.

The werewolf knelt on his left knee, clutching his heart with his right claw. A large amount of blood flowed down the wound to the ground, mixed with many fragments of broken internal organs and bones.

It opened its eyes, almost blinded by the flames, and looked at the witcher not far away with blurred vision. Panting heavily, it said in a hoarse voice:

"Witcher, I am not a monster."

"I'm just a man seeking revenge for my wife."

"I was just too angry, which is why I accidentally killed a few lumberjacks."

"But I can't stop. If I die, who will avenge my wife Paula?"

"She was a kind woman; she didn't deserve to end up like that."

Wayne gripped the silver sword with both hands, the tip pointed at the werewolf's head, and gently exhaled a breath of stale air.

The battle that just happened, although it only lasted a few minutes, was extremely dangerous every second.

If it weren't for the power boost from the Thunder Potion, he wouldn't have been able to stop the werewolf's claws. His thin chainmail was also no match for the werewolf's sharp claws. If he were to be scratched in the abdomen or chest, he would at least be seriously injured, and would almost certainly die.

Wayne, watching the werewolf who was already destined for death and was almost on his deathbed, wary of its last stand, asked:

"You're about to die, werewolf."

"Perhaps you can tell me what clues you've found."

"After you die, perhaps I will be able to seek justice for your wife."

"Make those bastards who hurt her pay the price they deserve."

The werewolf gave a bitter laugh upon hearing this, spitting out a mouthful of blood, and said hoarsely:

"What clues could I possibly find in this vast forest?"

"The only thing I can confirm is that it happened three days ago in the morning."

"And my wife told me that there were three people who hurt her: a bald man, a man with a black beard, and a skinny man."

"I haven't found anything else."

Wayne sighed inwardly. Indeed, even a thousand years later, in a technologically advanced era, it would be difficult to find criminals in the wild, let alone in this barbaric Middle Ages.

However, his conscience compelled him to make the promise:

"I will do my best to help you find the murderers and bring them to justice."

"Do you have any last wishes?"

Upon hearing this, the werewolf looked up at Wayne. In truth, his eyes, burned by the flames, could no longer clearly see Wayne's face, but he still spoke sadly:

"Witcher, my wife is buried in the courtyard. After you kill me, please bury us together."

"If you find the murderer, please come back and pay your respects to us, and tell us this good news."

Wayne nodded, looked at the werewolf who had lost all will to resist, raised his silver sword, and ended his suffering.

(End of this chapter)