“You still have not caught the one you seek? The one who slaughtered your family?”

  Bor had just opened his mouth to reply when the tentacles that had only just quieted suddenly writhed out of control once more.

  Glenn attempted the same method as before, but this time the tentacles were far more frenzied, and his curse only seemed to make them stronger rather than subdue them.

  “Old man! What do we do now?” Glenn asked, his voice clipped with urgency.

  But Bor no longer had the strength to speak.

  With no other choice, Glenn transformed into his Third-Tier werewolf form, forcibly restraining the old man and the black tentacles together.

  This, however, could not last. He needed help.

  In this place, the only ones he could turn to were Black Raven and his wife.

  “Old man, you owe me for this one,” Glenn muttered to whatever consciousness might still linger in him, then sped off toward Black Raven's residence.

  He had barely come within sight of it when a mass of unknown black mist surged toward him. Before he could react, the tentacles on Bor's chest vanished completely.

  What in the world…?

  His gaze locked instantly onto the drifting mass of black mist.

  There, stepping forth from the darkness, emerged a white-furred humanoid creature with twisted ram’s horns curling from its skull. It rubbed its belly, let out a satisfied burp, and waved at Glenn.

  “It has been ages since I have tasted a demon with such a peculiar flavor. Thank you for the treat, sir.”

  Glenn glanced at the unconscious old man in his arms, then at the strange creature opposite him, his voice turning cold.

  “You had better not have done anything to him.”

  The creature frantically waved its hands. “No, no, nothing of the sort! I sensed the demon inside him nearing a half-awakened state—extremely dangerous for him. I merely helped. And I know who you are. Your standing here is far beyond anything I dare provoke. I wouldn’t dream of trying anything. Please believe me.”

  “Why would you help me? I do not believe you are the charitable sort.”

  Suspicion sharpened Glenn’s gaze.

  The creature let out two strange cackles. “Ah, nothing escapes that clever mind of yours. I did act partly because the demon’s scent was irresistible… but also because I hoped to befriend you.”

  Glenn set the old man down and looked the creature over carefully. A sly, fox-like air clung to it.

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  “Just to make friends? You expect me to believe you do not have an ulterior motive?”

  “Uh…” The creature’s face twisted into a pained expression.

  Internally, it cursed: I absolutely despise dealing with suspicious geniuses!

  But it composed itself and said, “Is it not perfectly normal to seek the protection of someone as powerful as you? I merely want a… dependable patron. Nothing wrong with that.”

  “Enough. Stop dangling riddles in front of me. If you want to deceive me, you have got centuries to go before you are qualified. Say your real purpose now, or I am leaving. And considering you helped today, I will pretend none of this happened.”

  The creature froze, motionless, as though carved from the surrounding shadows.

  Just as Glenn turned to leave, it finally spoke again:

  “I want you to introduce me to the Maiden of the Brightwood—Lady Layla.”

  The Maiden of the Brightwood? That is her title? Glenn considered the implications, then cast a sidelong glance at the creature. “Tell me what you are first. Only then will I consider agreeing.”

  If he merely mentioned the request, Lady Layla would likely hear him out for Glenn’s sake—that alone meant he needed to be cautious.

  “I assume you have heard of the White Ram Tribe,” the creature said. “I am one of the few who remain. My name is Chebuner. I seek the Maiden’s power—it is the only hope I have of finding the rest of my surviving kin…”

  “Hold up.” Glenn cut him off. “I have never heard of the White Ram Tribe. Explain.”

  Chebuner stiffened, clearly irritated, but forced himself to swallow it.

  “Our White Ram Tribe was the mightiest beast-headed clan of the last century. Our magical prowess was unmatched, and we were born as natural enemies of demons. Because of that, humans once maintained the closest ties with us—until they betrayed us and hunted us nearly to extinction. This is history even a human three-year-old should know. How do you not know it?”

  “Who says I should? I truly do not.” Glenn sighed. None of this was his fault.

  Chebuner looked completely at a loss.

  “Fine. If that is the case, I will bring up your name when I speak to Lady Layla. If she refuses to meet you, that won’t be on me.”

  Glenn agreed.

  The White Ram’s joy was immediate and excessive—he nodded so hard he nearly bobbed himself off balance.

  It had come to live in this strange town only after years of searching, having learned that the legendary prodigy—a divine maiden from centuries past—resided here. Many times it had seen Black Raven walking through the town, yet never dared approach. That man had once been a merciless monster, and befriending him required standards. Seeking him out on a whim could easily cost a life.

  But a human boy who moved in later had somehow befriended Black Raven with ease. Chebuner had been burning with envy—how could such an ordinary human be worthy?

  Only later did it learn how foolish that assumption had been.

  A Fifth-Tier werewolf was, of course, far more qualified than itself.

  It had shut itself inside its home for a long time. Tonight, at last, an opportunity appeared—and it seized it.

  It hadn’t lied about its purpose either. It truly sought Lady Layla because its kin were not merely missing—they had disappeared into an unknown realm, and only her peculiar power might bring them back.

  Glenn, however, didn’t bother with what the White Ram did next. After tossing Bor back onto his bed, he returned home to rest.

  At dawn, he practiced purification magic for a while and progressed smoothly—almost effortlessly. It seemed he would master it before long.

  In fine spirits, he went to the farm to conduct inspections. Midway through, Kael found him and handed him a letter.

  “A postman was trembling at the edge of town, too scared to come in. I spotted him and sent a worker to ask. Turns out he has a letter for you. He was supposed to deliver it to Duder, but someone told him you actually live here. Being dutiful, he came anyway.”

  Glenn chuckled. The poor man had terrible luck.

  The letter was almost certainly from his body’s original sister—Dani.

  She must have reached their eldest brother by now. After reading it, he would have to write back…

  With that in mind, he opened the envelope.

  As expected, it was from Dani.