"We could at least check it out—follow the trail, right?" Glen suggested.
"Heh…" The old man gave a cold, expressionless laugh. "That ruthless, cunning bastard definitely left us a 'nice gift' at the original spot. Going there would just be asking for trouble."
So he knows the guy that well… must be a serious grudge… Glen shrugged, indicating he was fine either way.
"Let's head back. This trip is over," the old man said flatly, stowing his hunting rifle.
Whether it was imagination or not, Glen felt the old man now seemed more like a lonely, solitary elder rather than the calm, decisive hunter‑warrior he'd been moments ago.
Just as they turned to leave, Glen's peripheral vision caught something huge speeding through the sky from the side.
"Old man, what's that?" Glen poked the burly hunter beside him.
The old man looked up, face darkening. "That damned guy! He actually drew the Griffon Knights here!"
"Griffon Knights?" Glen frowned. "What do we do? Fight?"
"Fight? Whether you can win or not, we'll be harassed by pursuit nonstop afterward. Find a way to hide—if they see our faces, we're screwed! They'll track us to our lodgings in no time, and you'll never live peacefully again!" The old man showed real panic for the first time; he seemed terrified of being seen by these so‑called Griffon Knights.
"That's easy." Glen's body swelled into a powerful black werewolf, his voice deep as a demon's. "I'll hold them off—you take the chance to get away."
"You sure about that?" the old man asked seriously.
"I don't do things I'm not sure about." Glen's tone brimmed with confidence.
"Alright then, cocky kid. If you die, I'll mourn you in silence. If you succeed, I'll pay you twenty silver coins." With that, the old man turned and charged into the dense woods.
Twenty silver coins? About the price of one of my pigs… Glen locked his gaze on the approaching griffon and, on all fours, shot toward it.
The griffon was massive, with three riders on its back. All three were tall, slender women in form‑fitting silver armor that accentuated their striking figures—three female knights.
"Captain, no need to be this serious. This is probably another fake tip from those dark mages trying to stir trouble. Could be a trap," a dark‑haired, brown‑eyed knight said to the focused, deep‑brown ponytailed leader in front.
"You know traps like that are meaningless for us, Aisha. We've faced them more than once—there aren't many that can slip past our eyes now." The ponytailed captain's tone was calm.
"Yeah, I guess…"
Screee—!
Suddenly, the griffon let out a warning shriek! The captain's eyes sharpened as she looked downward.
The lush treetops rustled—something was charging through the jungle toward them at high speed.
"Stay alert!" the captain shouted. But before they could prepare, a loud crash erupted below; a black figure burst from the trees and slammed straight into the griffon.
The impact threw off the griffon's balance enough that all three riders were sent tumbling off its back.
While falling, the three experienced female knights condensed protective knightly auras around them, bracing for landing.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Under immense gravitational force, they smashed into the ground, each creating a sizable crater and flattening the surrounding foliage.
"Did you get a clear look at what it was?" the captain asked, hand on her knightly sword, scanning around.
"No."
"Couldn't see…"
Both shook their heads.
But they didn't have to wonder long—the culprit stepped right in front of them.
Glen emerged from the jungle, openly displaying his werewolf form to the three female knights.
"Female knights?" His voice was still deep and tinged with surprise. Man, those waists, those legs… great figures. Are all female knights like this?
"A werewolf?!"
"It can talk?!"
The knights were more shocked than Glen—none had ever seen a werewolf that could speak normally after transforming.
Can't werewolves talk? Right, when I first transformed, I couldn't speak either. I changed how the werewolf toxin affected my throat. Glen was briefly puzzled by their reaction, then understood.
"A Level‑3 werewolf? And it can talk? Must be a special case," the captain deduced with certainty from certain traits.
She suddenly called out, "Hey, Mr. Werewolf! Bold of you to challenge the Griffon Knights outright…"
"I wanted to see your knightly swordsmanship. What's wrong with that?" Glen shot back.
"Hmph!" The captain gave a heavy snort. "To become a Level‑3 werewolf, you must've eaten plenty of people!"
"I'd never do something that disgusting." Glen rolled his eyes.
"Can't be sure about that." The captain's aura flared. She turned to her two companions. "Sisters, don't interfere—I'll teach this ignorant monster a lesson."
Facing the tall, long‑legged knight pointing her blade at him, radiating a razor‑sharp presence, Glen felt a thrill—a common affliction among fighters.
He waved his claws, shaving a thick branch into a club‑like weapon and gripping it in his paw.
The charging captain found the sight oddly funny. "You plan to block my knightly sword with a stick? Truly a deranged monster!"
With that, she became a blur of motion, thrusting straight at Glen's throat!
Glen didn't blink as the sword qi loomed closer. He swung the branch, sidestepped the frontal assault, and flipped the branch behind his back to stab at the captain's wrist!
The charge looked impressive, but only the frontal part held real killing power; the side slash was just for show—no threat at all.
Feeling the force on her wrist, the captain nearly lost her grip. Good thing she used both hands and trained relentlessly—otherwise she'd have committed a knight's cardinal sin: never let go of your sword in battle.
She planted her long left leg, halting her momentum, and instantly turned the thrust into a sweeping slash.
Glen had predicted it. He arced the branch in a wide sweep, smacking the sword hard, then twisted his body and kicked the captain in the stomach!
Wincing, the captain flew backward, crashing into a tree before stopping.
"Captain!" The other two knights cried out, starting to help, but their leader raised a hand to stop them.
"I'm fine." She rubbed her stomach—the hit hadn't even broken her aura, so no real injury.
"Your moves are full of openings, Knight." Glen stood his ground, not pursuing, and smiled lightly.