Dealing with the Big One, Then a Pack of Little Ones

Compared to the Werewolf leader, whose size rivals Hagrid's, the tall, thin Werewolf appears as small as Vincent and Hermione.

But the power he unleashed was enough to knock his opponent down and pin him to the ground.

"Awooo!" he howled at Hermione, seemingly urging her to leave immediately.

Without time to think about why, Hermione immediately pried open the Werewolf leader's other paw and freed Vincent.

The situation was bad; a lot of blood had seeped through the bandages.

They crashed into it with all their might, then were grabbed and lifted into the air; their wounds, which were almost healed, seemed to be torn open again.

"I'm fine." Vincent gritted his teeth, raised his left hand, and placed it on her shoulder.

Hermione carried him and walked quickly away.

But suddenly, the tall, thin Werewolf flew over and crashed in front of the two of them.

"Awooo!" the Werewolf leader roared, as if issuing a warning.

His response was a crash as heavy as a truck.

He wasn't knocked away, but he was pushed away little by little.

The Werewolf leader had no choice but to shift his focus to what was in front of him.

The tall, thin Werewolf could no longer push him, so he grabbed his waist and tried to pin him down.

Unfortunately, the size difference between the two is too great.

In the face of absolute power, a momentary burst of energy is futile.

The Werewolf leader's thick arms wrapped around him, and the immense force caused him to howl and release his grip.

The tall, thin Werewolf did not give up, gripping the other's back tightly with its claws.

Blood splattered everywhere, and the Werewolf leader's eyes were terrifyingly red.

"Awooo!" he howled, increasing the force of his arm.

The tall, thin Werewolf whimpered a few times, its claws becoming increasingly weak until they drooped limply.

Under such terrifying pressure, even if the ribs weren't broken, the internal organs would probably have been damaged.

Like a rag doll, the Werewolf leader grabbed its head, lifted it up, and then slammed it heavily to the ground.

Even though his breathing became very weak, he still clung tightly to the leg that was leading Vincent and Hermione.

The Werewolf leader kicked it several times but failed, and gradually became more and more agitated.

"Peng—Peng—Peng—"

Each one was heavier than the last.

Vincent and Hermione stopped in their tracks and turned to look at the tall, thin Werewolf who had been kicked and was coughing up blood.

Even so, he clung tightly to the Werewolf leader's leg.

Hermione pursed her lips. "Let's—"

"No." Vincent took a deep breath, his left hand no longer resting on her shoulder, and gently beckoned to the suitcase. "Remember the yacht I blew to pieces with magic last year?"

Hermione certainly remembered, "You want to imitate it using your modified Split Charm?"

Vincent shook his head. "I was actually lying to you. I didn't—"

"I know." Hermione opened the suitcase for him. "That's Dark Magic, isn't it?"

"Yes." Vincent didn't say anything more, his hand trembling as he reached in and took out his Alder Wand.

Hermione grasped his trembling left hand and pointed it at the increasingly agitated Werewolf leader.

The Blasting Curse is a curse, and therefore an evil form of Dark Magic.

To wield it, one must be influenced by it.

Like drugs, any form of Dark Magic can lead wizards to become overly reliant on its power without realizing it, eventually losing themselves in it and gradually descending into the abyss of depravity.

But Vincent is an exception.

He is a natural master of Occlumency, and his soul and spirit are immune to the effects of Dark Magic.

Hermione, agitated by his magic, surged toward the Alder Wand with an aura of destruction.

Her body trembled involuntarily as she looked closely at Vincent's deep blue eyes, which had turned black.

"Confringo!"

It wasn't the Nonverbal spells from last year, but the incantation recited in its entirety.

The tip of the Alder Wand flickered with unnatural black Red Sparks.

This is not an ordinary Blasting Curse, at least not the Blasting Curse described in the book.

As the last syllable fell, black and red sparks shot towards the Werewolf leader.

A dazzling flame erupted, engulfing his upper body.

The series of explosions made Hermione realize something.

This Blasting Curse may not seem to have a large range, but it is instantaneous and can be cast continuously.

Let alone the Werewolf leader, even a fire dragon with extremely high magic resistance wouldn't be safe.

The flames gradually disappeared, leaving only billowing black smoke.

"Winter—" A huge figure fell down.

"Finally taken down..." Vincent gasped for breath, leaning weakly against Hermione.

After a modified version of Grindelwald's Blasting Curse, he felt exhausted again.

It was even worse than before; he didn't even have the strength to move a finger.

"Awooo—" A long howl came from the still-lingering black smoke.

"Oh no!" Vincent looked around with difficulty.

The fact that the Werewolf leader and the tall, thin Werewolf are here means that other Werewolf are also possible.

"Awooo—" Howls, as if in response, rose and fell.

After dealing with the big ones, a bunch of small ones came along.

When they saw their leader lying in the black smoke, even if they didn't lose their minds and become bloodshot, they wouldn't easily let the two go.

Should we support each other while running, like before?

It proved ineffective and even a waste of energy.

Hide?

There are too many uncertainties; who knows if the Werewolf will dig holes like rats when they go crazy?

Vincent and Hermione racked their brains for a solution, but they couldn't come up with anything good until they heard running footsteps.

There's no escaping it, no hiding it; all that's left is to fight.

Hermione helped Vincent sit down and picked up his wand to try it out.

The incantation was only halfway through when the tip of the staff exploded with a "bang," scattering a large cloud of air.

"Gunblade." Vincent barely managed to raise his left hand. "I can't disable its protective mechanism right now."

Temporary authorization doesn't require much mana, but he can't squeeze out a single drop right now.

Hermione rummaged around for a moment and quickly took out Gunblade from the briefcase.

Thanks to Vincent, she has many opportunities to come into contact with firearms.

But she had no idea how to fire a gun, and had only ever touched the trigger a few times.

"I'll teach you."

Hermione shoved the Gunblade into Vincent's hand almost without hesitation, then sat behind him and held his wrists with both hands.

"Move down a little further and press down on my index finger."

After doing all this, the two of them looked at the tall, thin Werewolf lying on the ground, refusing to let go even when he was unconscious.

The Blasting Curse didn't directly affect him; he was either too badly injured to fall unconscious or was shaken by the shockwave of the explosion.

Vincent tilted his head slightly. "See that small notch at the top of the gun? That's the front sight notch."

Hermione, who was right next to his cheek, stretched out her arm.

"Aim your dominant eye at it, then point the gun at any other target."

She closed her left eye and raised the gun to a tree not far away.

"Keep your hands steady and maintain a straight line between the three points."

Hermione slowed her breathing; her hard work had steadied her hands, allowing her to press down on the wobbling muzzle of the gun.

"The recoil of the Gunblade is not great. When you feel ready, that's when you pull the trigger."

No sooner had Vincent Hermione pressed his index finger and pulled the trigger.

A tremendous force came from the Gunblade, causing her to instinctively lean back.

However, a small hole appeared on the target tree.

The Orichalcum Bullet that inscribed the Magical Circuit hit its mark.

() But this is just the beginning; the Werewolf won't just stand there and take the beating.