Werewolves, the offspring of God and she-wolves.
In fact, this world had another kind of monster called the Human-Headed Wolf. It was born of God and a male wolf.
But because male wolves could not bear offspring naturally, Human-Headed Wolves had gone extinct.
Norton had seen what a Human-Headed Wolf looked like in a book cataloging monsters. It was a strange creature with a human head and a wolf's body.
It was nowhere near as strong as a Werewolf, though.
He didn't know whether God's genes were truly exceptional or the Werewolf species' genes were simply too powerful.
Werewolves themselves were far stronger than either wolves or humans.
They had powerful self-healing abilities, extreme resistance to harsh environments, brains less intelligent than humans' but far smarter than those of ordinary wolves, and humanlike sweat glands that gave them great endurance. Their humanlike builds made them much larger overall than ordinary wolves, while their naturally strong muscles made them far more robust than humans.
If Vampires, a product of cloning, were excluded, then Werewolves could claim the title of the most perfect creation without any dispute.
They were nature's most perfect hunters, and any creature could be on their menu.
But their excessively powerful bodies had also deprived them of the incentive to evolve greater intelligence.
They could obtain a steady supply of food without using any tools or tactics, so whether their intelligence evolved made no difference.
If Vampires were outliers among God's creations, then Werewolves were outliers among both wolves and humans.
Because their builds differed from those of wolves, Werewolves raised by wolf packs would be rejected and driven out once they reached a certain size. Adult Werewolves were therefore generally solitary.
Although they could be tamed like wolves, their more intelligent brains kept them from being firmly loyal, and their overly cunning minds made them even harder to tame.
In short, these creatures were natural hunters that combined cunning, brutality, strength, and savagery.
And now, this group of natural hunters had fixed their attention on Norton.
Blood-red eyes glowed in the darkness. Light of that intensity greatly reduced their chances of a successful sneak attack, but it undoubtedly made them more intimidating.
A scarlet eye turned in the pitch-black gap of the window. Although it was entirely blood-red, with no distinction between the white and the pupil, it somehow gave the impression that it was looking at something.
In the depths of the dark forest, Norton could see Werewolves gathering, each over 1.8 meters tall, with a muscular body and all four limbs on the ground.
And the target they were gathering around was his cabin.
Farther away, on higher ground, there were even Werewolves that seemed to be standing watch like sentries.
Just as he had said before, running away was never the solution to a problem.
For the past two years, Norton had avoided entering these monsters' territories or coming into their sight. He had even carefully used pungent roots to mask his scent, all in an attempt to hide from them, yet they had still set their sights on him.
It was strange.
These Werewolves weren't short of food right now. Although food was scarce in Holy Lord City, the dense forest was full of species that had multiplied and flourished over the past three years, such as wild dogs.
If they wanted food, they could easily hunt other creatures. Why did they have to keep coming after him when he was nothing but skin and bones?
It was exactly like the Human-Faced Birds he had encountered before! Even after catching food, they would rather abandon it to hunt him.
What on earth did he have that could attract these monsters?
Could it be because he had drunk a Holy Knight's blood?
The Holy Knight's blood had allowed Norton to skip an entire stage of a Vampire's development. It was clearly something precious that the Church had cultivated through unknown means.
If the blood could have such an effect on any species, then it would make sense for these Werewolves to hunt him.
But when the Human-Faced Birds had hunted him, he had not yet drunk the Holy Knight's blood.
"Chitter, chitter, chitter..."
The bat hanging from the roof of the dark wooden cabin seemed to have sensed that something was wrong too. It opened its mouth and uttered a few strange sounds, then dropped from above Norton's head and landed on his shoulder. It immediately dug its hooked claws into his withered, stiff skin, which resembled old tree bark.
Norton grabbed it and pulled it off him, then bent down and picked up the Holy Knight's armor piled in the corner, putting it on piece by piece.
The Werewolves outside seemed intent on surrounding and hunting him down.
Norton still remembered that Werewolves and Vampires were natural enemies in movies from his previous life, but those were movies from his previous life, with stories completely different from the accounts in the Church's books in this one.
If I enter the city, the Church's methods are strange and unpredictable. A single portrait of God can pinpoint my location and strike me. If I stay in the wild, danger is even more pervasive. I haven't even gone into a river yet, or the aquatic creatures would have torn me apart and eaten me!
No wonder Kuba felt so resentful. He had it too rough out in the wild.
Norton sighed, then picked up the golden greatsword from the ground with his withered, slender hands.
His body's current condition was much like the leathery membrane of a bat's wing: skin stretched over bone, with just enough flesh to keep it from being completely dried out.
His withered skin was hard and wrinkled like tree bark, but it clearly gave him decent protection.
His hands had shrunk from withering, making his fingers look long and strange, with hard, sharp nails.
His body was always at its peak, which also gave him inexhaustible strength. Given his current build and features, Norton even felt that his best means of attack would be to forgo armor and weapons and make full use of his body's agility.
But facing a pack of Werewolves now, he thought it was better to wear the armor.
Whenever Norton moved in his steel armor, the plates scraped against one another.
His wasted body made the steel armor fit him somewhat poorly now.
A pair of scarlet eyes flickered in and out of view inside the steel helmet. Norton's nose had already caught the rank scent of Werewolves drifting through the air.
No expression could be discerned on Norton's withered face, but his mind was full of thoughts.
From the increasingly strong stench of Werewolves on the wind and the green eyes approaching in the darkness, Norton could be certain that this pack of Werewolves had come for him.
They were also highly organized and disciplined.
Norton didn't know why these Werewolves were so intent on preying on him, but he felt that, with a Vampire's freakish regenerative ability, he could certainly try fighting them.
After all, Werewolves didn't have the Church's means of dealing true damage to him.
A Vampire's robust physique and near-immortal ability left Norton feeling little tension. Instead, becoming a Vampire seemed to have brought out a violent temper in him when facing such a situation, completely unlike how he had felt before.
"Grrr..."
Norton could already hear the Werewolves' low, wolflike growls in the air, putting him on even greater alert.
The surroundings seemed to grow clearer to his five senses, and Norton's scarlet eyes turned an even deeper red.
Once this is over, I have to go to the city. The wild is no place for a person!
"Awooo!!!"
A piercing Werewolf howl rang out in the dark forest.
With that howl, the footsteps of a mass of charging Werewolves suddenly sounded.
Dozens of black figures on all fours burst from the forest and pounced toward Norton's cabin at tremendous speed.