At the entrance to Burnwood Village, werewolf corpses lay scattered everywhere. The victors had surrounded Lalel and his group.
Berisha wanted to avenge her ancient lover, Avril, but Deren stopped her.
He gestured for Berisha to stay calm before asking Lalel, the Head Wolf, "A few questions. Answer them well, and I'll only exile you back to the Emerald Dream."
Hearing that his life could be spared, Lalel hurriedly said, "No problem. As long as I can say it, I'll tell you."
"Very well. I heard that you organized the Wolf Cult. That makes me curious—what exactly are you doing?" Deren asked directly.
"This..." Lalel looked troubled. He said sorrowfully, "I cannot say too much. You can only infer it from the name. Otherwise, I'll face a punishment more terrifying than death."
"All right, I understand. You're collecting faith on behalf of some being half a step from the supreme level, aren't you?" Deren guessed.
Lalel nodded faintly without making a sound.
Genn and the other Kings wore grim expressions upon hearing this. Deren's earlier guess had indeed been correct. Gilneas had been regarded by some being as a lowland for gathering faith, with the Werewolf Curse spread to collect it. As for that so-called Wolf Cult, one could tell from the name alone what sort of god it worshipped. They were not even bothering to hide it.
Berisha, meanwhile, had gone deathly pale. She glared hatefully at Lalel, her grip on the Scythe of Elune trembling slightly. What had happened thousands of years ago seemed to unfold before her eyes: she and Avril had been ambushed, and the feeling of her lover dying in her arms was as vivid as if it had happened yesterday.
"Are there still werewolves under your command guarding Shadowfang Keep?" Deren asked.
"They're all