The werewolves, commonly known as werewolves, are usually classified by the color of their fur.
Among these werewolves, the Blue Werewolf, known for its cool blue fur resembling moonlight, is said to be the progenitor of other werewolves and is believed to possess exceptional strength.
However, due to their rarity and their role as the guardians of the Blue Flower, encounters are exceedingly difficult, leaving them largely unknown to the public.
“Werewolf!”
Sataniel was witnessing a scene so astonishing that he even forgot the fact that he had just missed the Blue Flower right in front of him.
What he had thought was a rather large individual was gradually transforming into a werewolf amidst a dazzling light, an incredible sight to behold.
“You, bad guy. You smell.”
Perhaps due to his young age, the boyish werewolf Rach clumsily addressed Sataniel.
“So you’re a survivor of the Blue Werewolf.”
The blue fur that hadn’t been visible earlier was now fully present on the werewolf Rach.
Seeing this, Sataniel realized that Rach was indeed a Blue Werewolf, the guardian of the Blue Flower mentioned in the ancient texts.
A clan that had been engaged in a long, drawn-out battle with the Night’s Kin and had since vanished.
“Blame your bad luck. Now that the Blue Flower has become part of you, I have no choice but to kill you!”
If Rach had been in his prime, Sataniel would have considered abandoning the Blue Flower and simply fleeing.
According to the ancient texts, they were natural warriors capable of taking down dozens of Night’s Kin alone, making it difficult for Sataniel to face him in his current state.
But Rach appeared to be nothing more than a boy.
A stunted Blue Werewolf and a chosen Night’s Kin who had been reborn after stealing the blood of the Dark Elf—Sataniel thought he couldn’t possibly lose.
“You’re weak. Weaker than Aida.”
“How arrogant!!! I don’t know who Aida is, but you’re a dead man!”
As if reading Sataniel’s innermost thoughts, Rach mockingly replied, further shattering Sataniel’s already crumbled pride.
Blinded by rage, Sataniel mustered the last of his strength and charged at Rach, who simply crossed his arms in an X shape and waited.
The fearsome charge of Sataniel.
Yet, to Rach, Sataniel didn’t even register.
What he was recalling was the image of his mother, who had returned to the embrace of nature.
Once a forest in Somerset Territory spoken of as the Southern Region of the Miasma, a place filled with all sorts of monsters and spirits just a few decades ago.
But now, it had long become a safe place for children to play.
This was a secret known only to a single Blue Werewolf, who had eliminated all threats to his child and the Blue Flower.
The one-eyed bear that had been as big as a house.
The serpent that created poisonous fog with just a breath.
All the beasts that had targeted the Blue Flower had been turned to bones and fed the forest by his mother, an image that Rach could not forget.
Swoosh!
As Sataniel charged, Rach began to swipe his crossed hands down to the ground as if to scratch it.
“Ugh!”
At first, Sataniel thought Rach had gone mad for not being able to block his attack, but soon he felt a wind wrapping around him.
A wind that was not cool, but sharp like the blades that seemed ready to tear everything apart.
“Wind of the Gods.”
The technique that transformed wind into blades, a secret art of the Blue Werewolf clan.
The shockwave generated by the clan’s claws, sharper than mithril and moving at the speed of light, caused distortions in the air that would soon become winds tearing apart their foes.
Though Rach couldn’t wield it as skillfully as his mother, now that Sataniel had weakened so much, the power was sufficient to defeat him.
“No… no! I can’t end like this…”
It was the moment when Sataniel, the last of the true bloods of the Night’s Kin remaining in the Eastern Continent and the original sin of the Elves, was to meet his end.
Tap tap tap.
“What the…?”
And as Sataniel faced his last moment, Richard and the allied forces who rushed in witnessed Rach, the werewolf, standing majestically in the room and Rupert lying unconscious on the floor.
“Are you Rach?”
The late-arriving Count Bradley instantly recognized Rach transformed into a werewolf.
Of course, his appearance was completely different, but Rach’s unique aura remained the same.
“I dealt with the bad guy. I’ll transform back soon.”
Nodding in response to the Count’s words, Rach replied sporadically.
Despite the gruesome remains of Sataniel on the floor, it was hard to believe that Rach was responsible for this.
“My goodness… so you were the Blue Werewolf.”
Aida, who had dragged a puppy over, discovering that it wasn’t just a regular wolf, but the guardian of the Blue Flower, the Blue Werewolf.
As the Count was left speechless in shock, Rach quietly said his parting line.
“Tell Aida. Two walks a day.”
Perhaps that was his last statement, as soon after Rach began to transform back, and in the blink of an eye, returned to his original form.
Then, as if nothing had happened, he walked out of the Count’s office on all fours, heading toward Aida’s room.
“Wait! Isn’t that Young Master Rupert?”
“Whoa! Rupert!!!”
The impact of Rach transformed into a werewolf was so great that it was only now that people noticed Rupert lying unconscious on the floor.
“His breathing is steady! He seems to have just lost consciousness.”
“Carefully move him to the bed and call the Holy Knight for healing…”
Fortunately, the group confirmed that Rupert didn’t seem to have any abnormality, but they were about to ask the Holy Knight for a healing spell just in case.
“Come forth. I will examine him myself.”
“Alexander! What are you doing here?”
“Our battlefield is winding down. The abilities of our allies exceeded expectations.”
Alexander, who had appeared amid the chaos, pushed through the crowd and began to check on Rupert.
‘Given the traces left on the wall, that must have been quite a shock, but strangely, there aren’t any injuries.’
As someone who could be considered an expert among those present, Alexander found confirming Rupert’s condition to be an easy task.
His breathing and pulse were regular, and the state of his pupils was normal when he lifted his eyelids.
Given the shock Alexander had observed, it was almost miraculous.
If Rupert, who was closer to being a commoner than a trained warrior, had received such a shock, it wouldn’t have been unusual for him to be throwing up blood and have his insides twisted.
“What is this…?”
While checking Rupert’s condition, Alexander discovered something in his coat pocket.
Cautiously pulling it out, he revealed a statuette depicting a goddess, cut in half.
“I see… So this is your will, Goddess?”
Glancing at the fragmented statue, Alexander muttered something incomprehensible.
“What happened?”
“Sir Rupert is safe. Just move him to bed and let him rest alone.”
Once Alexander diagnosed that there were no issues, the Count and Richard finally let out a sigh of relief.
*
“Where is this…?”
When Rupert opened his eyes, he found himself in a familiar place.
Whirring.
The sound of a fan always running on his old computer, which had been on for 24 hours.
And in front of that, his beloved tablet rested on a desk.
His comfortable bed, where he always lay down and fell asleep from exhaustion.
The kitchen shelf, filled with instant noodles, confirmed this was surely his home.
“Is this a dream?”
Rupert, or rather Sun Woo-hyuk, recalled the last events.
He had rushed in to prevent the Blue Flower from falling into Sataniel’s hands and had been knocked out in a single blow—an embarrassing situation.
“At least I managed to land one good shot.”
Perhaps it was fortunate that despite being knocked out, he distinctly remembered throwing the Blue Flower on the desk to Rach at the last moment.
As Rach was remarkably clever, Sun Woo-hyuk believed that he must have escaped safely.
Meanwhile, still unsure if he was back, he naturally sat in front of the desk with the computer.
Even after a long time away, it felt incredibly comfortable and natural, as he had spent most of his day there.
“Ah… I recall getting sucked into this while watching it?”
Upon glancing at the lit monitor, a sigh slipped out.
The screen displayed the final episode of the webtoon about the Youngest Son of the Royal Family.
He struggled to understand the thought process behind depicting a dragon appearing in the Imperial Palace and breathing fire, wondering what had led him to draw it so fervently.
If he were a reader at that time, he would have been standing with a baseball bat in front of the author’s house in the alley, not leaving nasty comments.
“I certainly wasn’t in my right mind back then.”
In a situation where he had been staying up all night serializing, the company that promised to provide assistance kept saying they couldn’t find anyone, leaving him alone.
Receiving the abrupt notice of discontinuation from the editor had truly clouded his sanity.
“If it were now, I would have written a different ending.”
Crossing to another world and achieving endless success and an abundance of wealth and happiness, yet the ending had been stuck like a thorn in his heart.
“Are you really that confident?”
Startled by a sudden voice, Sun Woo-hyuk turned around.
There stood a woman.
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