"HP: Too Late, System!"Chapter 383: The Hunting Trap of the Apennines
Isabella lowered her voice, her expression turning grave.
"It's a token of the Moonwhisperers."
Douglas traced the cool, silver surface of the whistle, feeling the faint pulse of magic within.
"Moonwhisperers? Sounds like some ancient tradition."
Her gaze flicked from Douglas to the ever-watchful Lupin at his side.
"The werewolf tribes in the Apennines aren't exactly one big, happy family. Aside from the Ashclaw Tribe, who are at least willing to talk, the rest… well, let's just say they're even more radical. Some are downright unhinged."
She hesitated, choosing her words with care.
"This whistle emits a special frequency—an ancient covenant sound. It allows those werewolf clans who still honor the old ways to suppress their bloodlust, even outside the full moon. For a brief moment, it brings them clarity—or at least, makes them willing to hear you out."
Isabella's gaze drifted into the black depths of the forest, her eyes shadowed by emotions even she couldn't name.
"Those are my orders from the Ministry—I can only take you this far. You're their only hope now. Take care of yourself."
Suddenly, a strange, guttural snarl echoed through the trees—not quite beastly, not quite human.
Lupin's brow furrowed.
Isabella's face turned icy, her voice sharp as frost. "Did you hear that? That's what I came to warn you about next—the Red Moon Brotherhood.
A pack of utter degenerates, now in league with vampires.
Lately, they've been rampaging through the mountains, ruthless and cruel. They prey on lone werewolves, magical creatures, even Muggle villages—no one is safe!"
Douglas tightened his grip on the silver whistle, thoughtful.
Lupin had been standing quietly half a step behind, but now he tilted his head, nostrils flaring, his ears straining for sounds no ordinary human could detect. His eyes narrowed.
"It's not just the Red Moon Brotherhood. Piero's men are on our trail, too. I caught a faint magical glimmer in the woods—someone's using detection spells, but they're being careful."
Douglas tucked the whistle away, turning to Isabella with a rare note of seriousness.
"Looks like we'd better move. You watch your back, too."
This wasn't the sort of artifact an ordinary Ministry Auror could just hand out. The web behind it was far deeper than he'd guessed.
"Don't worry." Isabella flashed a confident, wild grin—equal parts charm and danger. "Good luck."
Before her words had faded, she took a single step back and Disapparated, vanishing into the night.
The engine rumbled to life once more.
The road ahead was so rough it felt like the car might shake itself to pieces. The forest grew thicker, ancient trees stretching their tangled limbs overhead, moonlight shattered into trembling shards across the windshield.
"Wait!"
Lupin's sudden shout cut through the darkness. He lunged forward, sniffing the air, his face blanching. "Stop! There's something wrong up ahead—silver, and a faint trace of holy water!"
Douglas reacted instantly, slamming his foot on the brake.
The SUV screeched to a halt just meters before an unremarkable clump of bushes.
In the harsh glare of the headlights, the truth was plain.
Beneath the low branches, several bear traps lay hidden under rough black cloth. Their edges glinted with silver, and the soil around them was stained dark—soaked with holy water.
Lupin's face was grim.
"Wolf-hunting traps."
He stepped out, crouching to examine the ground, pointing to nearly invisible tripwires.
"Whoever set these knew exactly what they were doing. They used every blind spot perfectly.
If we'd driven over them, those enchanted silver nets would've snapped up around us in an instant—no way to dodge."
Douglas's frown deepened.
Holy water and silver wire. This was no amateur's handiwork; it was a professional, targeted strike against werewolves.
"It's the Order of Saint Benedict Wolf Hunters," Lupin said, dusting off his hands. "Lorenzo's intel was spot on. Looks like the Vatican's given them new orders—their patrols in these mountains have ramped up."
"And they're close," Lupin added, snapping his head up to scan a dark ridge in the distance. "Not many—three, maybe five. They're sweeping this way in a fan pattern."
"Looks like our noble chariot's journey ends here."
Douglas surveyed the woods. The night breeze carried a distant, uneasy barking—time to move.
He pulled a finger-sized silver capsule from his coat, murmured a quick incantation, and watched as it shimmered with a faint magical glow.
With a flick, he sent it spinning onto the SUV's roof.
There was a soft "pop"—like a soap bubble bursting.
The heavy SUV vanished without a trace, leaving only the little capsule resting quietly in the muddy ruts.
Douglas stooped to pick it up, wiping away the dirt before tucking it safely into his pocket.
Lupin was already consulting the map, quickly pinpointing their position and jabbing a finger at a route.
"This way. There's an old smuggler's trail marked on the map."
They slipped into single file, moving like cats through the tangled undergrowth, every step careful and silent.
Lupin's werewolf senses—far sharper than any human's—guided them through the darkness, helping him avoid the deadly traps with uncanny precision.
He made it look easy, but the truth was, in human form, a werewolf's magic was little different from any other wizard's—aside from their senses. On the full moon, though, when the beast took over, they'd barrel through these traps without a thought… and be torn to shreds.
After skirting around a mountain hollow, they spotted several shadowy figures on a distant ridge, their weapons glimmering with faint, holy light.
"Seems the Vatican's spared no expense this time," Douglas muttered, his voice icy.
Those sacred weapons could cut down an ordinary werewolf—and had nearly done for him in the past.
Lupin studied the map again, then pointed to an even narrower path, almost completely hidden by vines.
"If we take this way down, we'll skirt the edge of the old mines.
The map says the Ashclaw Tribe once used it as a temporary refuge."
They pressed on, winding through the darkness, until Lupin suddenly threw out an arm, stopping Douglas in his tracks.
"Wait—here…"
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