Monarch of Evernight

The rumble of the origin gun shattered the silence of the small town. The werewolf elder pulled back as soon as the sound appeared, but he was still one step too slow. Amidst a shower of blood, his right arm flew off from his body and fell to the distant ground.

The elder withstood the pain and reached for his wooden staff with a trembling hand. It would seem that this old wooden staff was even more important to him than his life.

Gunshots rang out once more as the werewolf elder’s left arm was also blasted off. His aged body fell hard on the ground and couldn’t clamber up for a good while.

In a nearby house, Nighteye put away the Carol of Shadows, drew her dagger, and stabbed the door at lightning speed! The dagger shot through the wood all the way to its hilt.

A miserable cry was heard from the other side as a werewolf claw pierced through the wooden door and grabbed Nighteye’s wrist. However, the hand gradually weakened over the course of a few breaths as its owner collapsed to the ground.

Nighteye put away her vampiric blade and jumped out of the side window, soon vanishing into the small alleyways. She had just left when a melon-sized grenade flew into the room and blasted the building apart.

The sound of gunshots and explosions threw the entire town into chaos. The werewolf soldiers knew the explosions came from the guard squad’s grenades, but the gunshots were extremely foreign.

Several werewolf warriors eventually returned to the square and found, to their great astonishment, their elder struggling in a pool of blood. They went over to support the old werewolf, but the latter stared anxiously at the wooden staff and said, “Quick, bring me my staff!”

Seeing what remained of the elder’s arms, the soldiers couldn’t help but wonder how he would even use the staff after they had brought it back. But since it was the elder’s orders, one of the soldiers ran over to where the staff was. Just as he was about to reach down, however, a gunshot echoed through the town, and his head was duly blasted apart. The headless body swayed briefly before falling slowly to the ground.

No small amount of blood sprayed onto the wooden staff. The surprising thing was that the staff seemed to have come alive at this point, wiggling as it absorbed the flesh and blood. Even the colored cloth wrapped around it was doing the same.

At the sight of this, the elder became even more anxious and urged the werewolf soldiers to bring the staff back and hunt down the sniper.

The soldiers secretly felt a chill upon seeing this flesh-devouring staff. Nonetheless, one of them braced himself and walked over to the staff. It was just that a gunshot rang out once more as he bent down, and yet another head was blasted apart.

The elder saw the barely visible color of darkness in the air and said with an ugly expression, “Demonkin, it’s the demonkin! How come there are demonkin here?”

The demonkin were extremely rare in the neutral lands, but the remnant shadow hanging in the air contained an indisputable demonkin aura. The other dark races wouldn’t use their weapons at all because the firepower would be reduced by a steep margin.

The werewolves still couldn’t find Nighteye from the sound of the gunshot alone. She would add the special ability “Reverberate” with every round, causing the timbre to echo all around the place and preventing others from pinpointing her location. But soon, the remnant demonkin energy track eventually compromised her hiding place.

Under the elder’s instructions, several werewolf soldiers pounced toward the sniper nest—some crashing through the windows, some through the door, and some through the roof. There wasn’t so much as a shadow of Nighteye’s after they arrived inside, though. What greeted them was a pile of origin grenades on the table.

A massive explosion shook the entire town as the building and many others around it were flattened. Even though the soldiers who had charged in were quite powerful, they couldn’t quite escape the tragedy at such a close range. Those who had gone through the roof were flung several dozen meters into the air.

Nighteye watched all of this from close by before vanishing into one of the small alleyways. Before leaving Evernight, as the princess of the vampire race, Nighteye had actually fought more werewolves than she had humans. She was also very familiar with their habits in combat.

When the explosion took place, the werewolf elder’s expression turned extremely unsightly. He suddenly howled at the sky, summoning all of the surviving soldiers.

Several long howls responded from different parts of the small town.

The elder’s expression turned even more ashen because the number of responses was too few. This number was enough to make one feel flustered. So many werewolf soldiers had scattered into the town, but most of them had seemingly vanished, almost as though they had fallen into the jaws of a colossal beast. In addition to the ones who had been blasted to death, there were at least fifty more warriors, but now, there weren’t even ten responses.

The elder’s eyes began to twitch as he scanned the infernal town. He let out a short cry, one so mournful that it sounded like a ghost howling.

That was the command for the survivors to retreat and scatter at all costs, leaving behind all spoils and comrades for a chance at survival.

Several werewolves charged out of the small town and fled in different directions. Following a gunshot, one of the werewolves fell down while the rest took the opportunity to flee from the Carol of Shadow’s range as quickly as they could.

Nighteye, who was half-kneeling on the rooftop, lowered the sniper rifle and watched as the werewolves left. These were the ones she had intentionally let off so that they could deliver news of this battle.

In the central plaza, Qianye picked up the wooden staff and walked over to the elder. The cane became quite obedient in Qianye’s hands and had stopped wiggling and devouring despite being drenched in blood.

Qianye crouched down in front of the elder and asked, “Why do you value this staff so much?”

The elder snorted once but made no reply. Judging from the subconscious anxiety coming off of him, though, one could tell that the weapon was extremely important.

The pain of having his limbs severed tormented the elder, but he didn’t even moan once. Qianye frowned upon realizing that he wouldn’t find out anything from this person. An unyielding enemy like this was worthy of respect but also quite troublesome.

After pondering for a while, Qianye flicked a wisp of blood energy into the elder’s wounds. His face became contorted, and his body trembled continuously from the agony. Yet, he made no sound up until he passed out from the suffering, to speak nothing of begging for mercy.

Nighteye arrived at this point, saying, “How’d it go?”

Qianye waved the staff. “I couldn’t get anything out of him, but he seems to value this item a lot, there must be some secret hidden within it. I don’t think I can make him talk.”

“Let’s keep this staff for now. We’ll get the information sooner or later. Even if he doesn’t talk, someone else will.”

Qianye nodded and placed the wooden staff into Andruil’s Mysterious Realm. He then slapped the old werewolf lightly behind the back of his neck, duly shattering his skull bone in the process. This kind of injury would stop the elder from recovering his consciousness even if someone else were to stir up his vitality.

After doing all of that, Qianye and Nighteye left the small town and vanished into the Black Grove.

Just a few dozen kilometers away from the small town, there was a giant airship hovering at a low altitude. The battleship, covered in large steel spikes, looked rather sinister. The style of this airship seemed to have remained in the era where airships were first invented. There were no powerful origin cannons back then, nor were there any homing ballistae. Ramming into the enemy ship was one of the most basic methods of combat.

The entire top-level of the battleship was a massive control room. There was a lanky werewolf with a sinister expression sitting in the ancient-looking chair at the center of the chamber. His hair was of a peculiar red shade, as were his eyes.

The werewolves who had escaped from the small town were on one knee before him, reporting what had transpired there in great detail.

The werewolf on the seat spoke slowly, “Demonkin? Are you sure there was a demonkin?”

The werewolf soldier replied, “That was Elder Gillette’s judgment.”

“Very well then. That old fellow might be useless, but his eyesight can be considered fair. If he says it’s a demonkin, then it is a demonkin. The demonkin have actually appeared in such a remote place. Men, bring me the map.”

Two servants brought a map over and unfurled it in front of their master. The geography surrounding the small town was labeled on the map—although it was coarsely made, one could still make use of it.

The red werewolf stared at the map for a good while before saying, “Tell me, where do you think that demonkin is hiding?”

One of the werewolf elders replied, “We’ve searched the entire area, this is the only place left.”

“The Black Grove?”

“According to the people in town, there used to be a road by the forest leading to a piece of land where some newcomers have settled down. However, they are humans and not demonkin.”

The werewolf frowned. “Ask them clearly!”

The werewolf elder replied awkwardly, “This… Sir Bloodbeard, the people in town have been killed long ago. There’s no one left to ask.”

Bloodbeard made no comment and continued staring at the map for a good while. “There’s something wrong with this map. The path here has been sealed off by the Black Grove.”

“Yes, sir. If we want to investigate that place, we must pass through the Black Grove.”

“Humph, through the Black Grove? I’m not interested in that. Let’s go back if there are no more survivors here.”

The werewolf elder said in astonishment, “Sir Gilette’s corpse is still there, as well as the Staff of Revival!”

“You’re right, let’s go over to the town and take a look.”

Moments later, the massive airship arrived above the small town and dozens of werewolf warriors jumped down. They searched the town rapidly, but only found Elder Gillette’s corpse—there was neither a trace of the Staff of Revival nor any valuable clues.

On the battleship, Bloodbeard was gazing at Gillette's body, especially his severed limbs. “There are signs of demonic energy, but it might not necessarily be a demonkin. But, we’ll just report things as is. Humph, there’s not even a small clue, we’re dealing with a veteran!”

“Sire, shall we expand the scope of our search?”

Bloodbeard didn’t answer and merely looked out of the window. Through the glass, he could see the death-suffused forest in the distance. From this angle, he could see a mist rising from the forest, covering hundreds of meters of airspace above it.

Seeing this mist, Bloodbeard’s pupils contracted. “No need, we’ll return.”