A Real Man Fights Hand-to-Hand

Rune Script written into the air formed a sturdy shield. Though it looked as if it might collapse under the unceasing barrage of Magic Bullets, it still stubbornly withstood Aozaki Aoko's violent onslaught.

However, Aozaki Aoko had never expected the Magic Bullets to shatter the Rune Script barrier. A demon-breaking short blade appeared in her hand, its silver-bright edge tracing a graceful arc like a meteor streaking across the summer night sky.

The barrier formed by the Rune Script shattered soundlessly, and before Tōko Aozaki's astonished eyes, the blade pierced toward her chest.

Blood sprayed everywhere—

Seeing that Tōko Aozaki had been injured, Beowulf, the Golden Wolf, hesitated briefly before ultimately deciding to support her. After all, he did not dislike that human, and she had shown him many interesting things. If she died, the days ahead would probably become much less interesting.

But the figure that suddenly appeared before him blocked his path.

"Big brother, are you trying to stop me?"

The Golden Wolf took the form of a blond boy, tilting his head as he asked curiously. He seemed utterly unable to understand Michael's apparent death wish.

As the most perfect existence, unlike the ultimate mysteries artificially created by Alice Kuonji, he was a mystery born of nature—a miracle that had emerged after life had moved and evolved for thousands, even tens of thousands of years. This mystery probably possessed a history of at least three thousand years.

Human magi—or, more precisely, magi whose foundation was modern magecraft—wielded magecraft separated from that of the Golden Wolf, a Phantom Beast Species, by three thousand years. That was a gap that could not be bridged. To modern magi, he was a genuine natural disaster.

Among the Dead Apostles, there were naturally ancient beings capable of rivaling the Golden Wolf. Some could even crush him with ease. But those ancient beings definitely did not include Michael.

Of course, if Michael revealed his trump card, he could do it. But a trump card was called a trump card because it had to be used at the most appropriate moment. After studying Beowulf, Michael could only reluctantly admit that magecraft alone was incapable of dealing with him.

Since magecraft would not work, then he simply would not use magecraft.

Apparently convinced that Michael was seeking death, Beowulf wore the calm smile of a victor.

"Is stopping you really that difficult?"

Enhancement formulas surfaced across Michael's body. This kind of self-buffing magecraft could still be effective.

The smile vanished from Beowulf's face—

He stared irritably at Michael. This man's scent was strange, an indescribable sensation. Moreover, Beowulf regarded himself as a king, and such insolent provocation was enough to make him kill the other man. Besides, if this inhuman creature before him had not run so fast last time, Beowulf would have bitten through his throat long ago.

How could a defeated opponent like this dare provoke him again? Of course, none of that mattered now. He had killed plenty of inhuman beings before. At the very least, the one before him looked quite tasty.

"You're just a dog. Do you really think I can't handle you?"

Michael sneered, making no effort to hide the contempt in his voice.

"I see. You're that confident? You think you can defeat me, big brother...?"

Beowulf grew increasingly irritated. The atmosphere became the burning breath of a beast, and a violent gale swept across the snowfield. His voice gradually turned into an enraged roar as his body underwent a drastic transformation.

His slender frame rapidly expanded, his muscles harder than steel. Spiked golden fur covered his body, gleaming with the radiance of gold. The boy's face elongated into that of a beast, his hair seeming to burst into flame as he became a wolf with a human shape.

"You're going to die, big brother."

Beowulf bared a savage grin. There were only ten meters between them. In just half a second, all that could be seen was a black blur flashing past before appearing in front of Michael. Sharp claws sliced through the air with a piercing howl.

Michael narrowed his eyes. In his vision, Beowulf's movements slowed dramatically. In a space where time had nearly come to a halt, he caught the beast's opening.

His body curled slightly, like a spring compressed to its limit. Then, under extreme pressure, it explosively released, his arm shooting out like a spear aimed at Beowulf's heart.

Though the heart was not a fatal weak point, it was an important furnace of magical energy. If he could shatter it, victory in this battle would be secured.

The hide tougher than steel was torn open, and Michael's arm drove toward Beowulf's heart with irresistible force. But the resistance grew far greater than he had expected. Sturdy bones encased the heart, as though it were clad in an impenetrable suit of armor.

"You really are hard..."

Michael's arm bones groaned. Though his body was far stronger than that of an ordinary human, it still fell somewhat short compared to a Phantom Beast Species.

Enduring the excruciating pain, Beowulf roared and swept his claws across Michael's body. The magical and physical barriers covering him shattered with a boom. Golden flashes carved five gashes across his chest, the deepest slicing through his ribs. His beating heart could even be seen through the wound.

Michael's muscles writhed, locking Beo's arm firmly in place like a bear trap. At the same time, wisps of mist-like magical energy coiled around Michael's hand and shattered the hard bones encasing Beowulf's heart.

You've got to be kidding...

He had not processed it yet, but the intense pain soon jolted him awake. Beowulf lowered his head, staring in confusion at the magical energy wrapped around Michael's hand.

This is... magical energy? How can magical energy hurt me? It's all a lie. There isn't anyone in my own kind who can defeat me. This pain, this whole thing, it's all a lie. This makes no sense. I can't possibly lose to another living creature...!

Even as he thought that, a deep chill still crept down his spine. This contradictory reality threw the werewolf's values into disarray. Countless tiny voices rang out. For the first time, doubt swelled within him, and reality was so cold that it felt terrifying.

Am I going to be killed...?

His magical core had been shattered. He stared blankly at the heart beating in Michael's pale hand. Amid the agony, Beowulf's perfect world collapsed. These wounds became thorns that wrapped around his entire body, and the pillar supporting his heart snapped.

It hurts! It hurts too much!—I'm going to die, die, die—

Beowulf's body trembled uncontrollably. It was not because he feared death's arrival, but because he had come to fear life itself. Unable to endure it all, the werewolf changed from a beast back into a human.

—He suddenly fell silent, like a frightened child leaning against his mother's knees.