Werewolf

Crack!

The fallen Avelardo forcibly caught the blade Lothar had driven down with both hands.

The plates of his chainmail gloves wedged Lothar's arming sword between them, stopping it dead.

"Good. Very good. You've successfully enraged me!"

Just as the spectators in the stands thought the tide was about to turn and Lothar would snatch victory from defeat,

Avelardo suddenly exerted himself. His muscles swelled, hardening like granite, and he violently threw Lothar, who was straddling him, aside.

He immediately rose to his feet, intending to retrieve his hand-and-a-half sword embedded in the mud.

But how could Lothar give him that chance? His formidable stamina let him scramble up quickly, and with a fierce charge, he tackled Avelardo to the ground beside him.

He gripped the arming sword's hilt and tip respectively, trying to thrust it through a gap in Avelardo's Bucket Helm.

But the man moved even faster. He crossed his arms over his chest and blocked the thrust. Then, twisting his hands, he seized Lothar's blade and forcibly snapped it in two.

"Get off me!"

A hoarse, desperate roar burst from his throat.

Bang—

Lothar was kicked flying by Avelardo once more.

Now, both of them were empty-handed.

Their breathing beneath their Bucket Helms rasped like bellows.

Lothar noticed that Avelardo had grown even larger than before.

His once-loose surcoat was now stretched taut over his body. Though he hunched slightly, he still looked like a little giant.

"What the hell are you?"

Lothar's tone grew grave.

Avelardo sneered. "You tell me."

The clamor outside prevented anyone else from hearing their exchange.

Lothar had no intention of raising his voice and exposing his opponent's true nature either. He had only caught a fleeting glimpse just now and could not be certain what kind of monster Avelardo truly was.

Even if he was completely certain that Avelardo was not a normal human, without evidence, he could do nothing to him. It would only make Lothar look like a clown.

Besides, the arena was so chaotic that even if he shouted, no one would hear him.

"What if I surrender?"

Avelardo chuckled softly. "It's too late. You won't get that chance. The moment you dare raise your hand, I'll kill you immediately!"

Raising a hand to signal surrender.

Under normal circumstances, it was an exceedingly simple gesture.

But against an opponent like Avelardo, it was no different from deliberately exposing an opening. When that happened, Avelardo could kill him and claim it had been a reflexive, instinctive act.

In the arena, life and death were left to fate. No one would blame him for it.

"That's really unfortunate."

Lothar's words were perfunctory, but the next instant, his body sprang forward like a released bowstring, rushing straight for the hand-and-a-half sword Avelardo had lost earlier.

"This cunning little bastard."

Avelardo cursed inwardly and lunged forward. His heavy iron armor did not hinder his agility in the slightest.

Just as Lothar was about to grab the hand-and-a-half sword's hilt, Avelardo seized his lower leg and yanked him stumbling to the ground.

As Lothar fell, he raised his fist and smashed it viciously into Lothar's leg. Excruciating pain instantly consumed Lothar's mind.

He clenched his teeth and endured it without crying out.

As he kicked the man's helmeted head and shoved him away, Lothar managed to seize the hand-and-a-half sword. Yet Avelardo clearly was not worried in the least.

He stood opposite Lothar, his tone mocking. "With one lame leg, how are you going to fight me now?"

"Heh."

A bitter smile appeared on Lothar's face.

He used the hand-and-a-half sword to brace his fractured leg.

Then he looked toward Prajna outside the arena.

"This time, my life is in your hands, Prajna."

He mouthed the words soundlessly.

If he had known Avelardo possessed such terrifying strength, he would never have stubbornly fought on.

It was nothing more than the title of Champion Knight and a sum of money... He had never intended to become Count Leopold's vassal.

Just as Avelardo thought Lothar had lost focus and prepared to circle behind him for an attack,

Prajna, watching from outside the railing, wore an expression as cold as frost. The people around her instinctively moved away, leaving more than ten meters of empty space around her.

At Lothar's ear, the system notification sounded like heavenly music.

Your affinity with legendary retainer Prajna has increased to Friendly.

First bond-shared talent unlocked: Stone Wall (for the next three seconds, immune to all physical damage.)

You will share one of your own talents with retainer Prajna.

As you possess only one talent, the default talent is: Two Lives (having fused two souls, you are born with twice the mental power of ordinary people. Maximum mental power permanently +5).

Lothar paid no further attention to the system notifications and decisively activated the Stone Wall talent.

Avelardo's heavy fist slammed into Lothar's body, yet brought him no pain. The enormous force only made him stagger before he regained his footing.

"Fall!"

Avelardo pounced, knocking the hand-and-a-half sword from Lothar's hand and far away before pinning him to the ground.

Bang, bang, bang—

The sound of iron fists pounding into flesh continued without end.

Lothar seemed to have completely lost the ability to resist, allowing Avelardo's powerful iron fists to rain down on him.

Some of the Noble Ladies in the stands flushed with excitement, while even more hurriedly covered their faces and put on expressions of distress.

"Avelardo is far too strong. I wonder whether he has the same skills in bed?"

"That knight named Lothar is impressive too, but Avelardo is stronger."

"Heavenly Father above, this is too cruel. Who would have thought that the refined Knight Avelardo would be so brutal on the battlefield?"

Suddenly, Avelardo's body froze.

In Lothar's hand was a broken sword tip, which he had driven from behind into the chainmail gorget stretched thin by Avelardo lowering his head.

"Gods, what did he do?"

"It's the tip of his arming sword. When did he hide it in his hand?"

"That was dishonorable! He used a trick to kill Avelardo!"

The spectators in the stands immediately erupted into an uproar.

Thud.

Lothar shoved the heavy man off himself and onto the ground.

He could feel Avelardo's once-swollen body rapidly shriveling, as though air were leaking out of it.

"Heh heh."

A terrifying laugh that made one's scalp prickle rang out.

Thick clumps of black blood foam spilled from the gaps in Avelardo's helmet.

Avelardo's weak voice came in fits and starts. "So... you're not human either. Just wait. Sooner or later... you'll become like me."

"The Heavenly Father won't bless people like us."

Lothar ignored the arguments ringing in his ears.

He looked toward Prajna in the distance. Her eyes above her veil remained cool and clear as the moon.

It seemed she had never worried about his safety from beginning to end.

Crack—

Lothar lifted the visor beneath Avelardo's helmet, revealing a horrifying head covered in gray fur, like that of a vicious wolf.

The noise in the stands abruptly fell silent.

Then even louder discussion erupted.

"My gods, Avelardo? Is that really Avelardo?"

"Heavenly Father above, what did I just see? Avelardo's head is actually a wolf's head!"

"So Avelardo was an evil werewolf all along! None of us noticed. No wonder his stamina was so incredible!"

"This Lothar killed a werewolf! That's a legendary monster!"

Count Leopold looked at his Witch advisor beside him, his expression filled with doubt and confusion.

The red-robed Witch smiled. "Avelardo was indeed a werewolf, but the bloodlust around him was not strong, nor were there any wronged spirits clinging to him. That proves he was not a wanton killer."

Leopold asked angrily, "Why didn't you tell me beforehand?"

The red-robed Witch's smile remained unchanged. "Why should I have told you? What harm is there in recruiting a powerful werewolf as your subordinate?"

Leopold fell silent.

No one noticed this brief exchange.

At that moment, the uproar in the arena was so thunderous it seemed ready to overturn the sky.

Yet Lothar, the focus of their discussion, staggered and collapsed to the ground. His Fierce Battle with Avelardo had drained every last bit of his strength.

Evening.

Inside a bathhouse in Lienz.

Lothar let his body float on the water's surface. He recovered quickly; with stamina exceeding ten points, his endurance far surpassed that of ordinary people.

More than half the bruises on his body had already faded.

Even the worst bruise on his lower leg was no longer so noticeable.

Fortunately, his lower leg had also been protected by chainmail leggings. Had he been one of those poor knights who wore only leg wraps, his leg bone would likely have snapped outright.

This bathhouse was said to have been converted from one left behind by the Ancient Empire. It was exceptionally spacious and grand.

Incense burned nearby, while maids waited respectfully at the side, their graceful figures faintly visible through thin gauze, ready for his enjoyment at any time.

This place had once belonged to the Ancient Empire's Noricum Province.

Though the empire had fallen, people remained filled with longing and admiration for that nation buried beneath the ruins of history.

Even now, the Eastern Empire remained a beacon of civilization.

The lords of Lienz throughout the generations had preserved and renovated this bathhouse.

Unfortunately, it had changed from a public bathhouse into the lord's private property.

The Middle Ages' habit of not bathing only began after the Black Death ravaged the land, because some priests believed bathing opened the pores and made people more vulnerable to infection.

Before that, people in the Middle Ages had also loved bathhouses, places that combined socializing and leisure.