Mulan knelt on one knee at the edge of the woodland, looking at the silver-maned Werewolf's corpse beside him. A rather melodramatic thought crossed his mind: With all manner of dirty tricks and no small amount of strength, the despicable human had finally killed the silver-maned Werewolf.
Mulan smiled in the shadows of the night. He pressed a hand to the silver-maned Werewolf's head, while the demon shadow in the darkness slowly rose to its feet. The demon's claws overlapped with Mulan's arm, slowly cutting into the Werewolf's skull and body.
Power of darkness, come to your true master!
Mulan was exhausted, yet his mind was buzzing with excitement. This time, however, he could not dispose of the corpse along with it.
Meanwhile, Handel and the others had descended from the small hill where they had watched the battle and hurried over to Mulan.
"Professor, how are you?"
"Lord Jonester, are you all right?"
Having already withdrawn his demon shadow, Mulan waved at them and gave a relatively normal smile.
"I'm fine. I won't die. Handel, come give me a hand."
Handel hurried to Mulan's side, carefully took his right arm, and slowly helped him to his feet.
"Hss..."
By then, Mulan's adrenaline had gradually worn off. The intense ache in every muscle and the pain tugging at his wounds finally hit him all at once. Even he could not help baring his teeth in pain, reminded of the state his body had been in when he first arrived in this world.
"That's the Werewolf leader, isn't it? Is he dead?"
Shire stood to one side, still afraid to get too close to the silver-maned Werewolf's corpse. Mulan's opinion of Baron Shire had changed considerably by now, so he answered with a lighthearted tease.
"Quite dead. He couldn't be any