Chapter 59: Wolf Knight

Garos spread his wings, circling upward through the air shrouded in night.

The airflow above the conifer valley carried the pungent, sulfuric scent unique to volcanic regions.

Adjusting altitude.

Letting the shadow cast by the moonlight over his dragon wings sweep across the treetops without disturbing the creatures below.

Garos lowered his gaze, seeing numerous rage bears in the valley either dozing or scratching their backs against rough, hard mountain rocks.

Mobel, the newly appointed leader of the rage bears, was currently among the female bears.

Rubbing heads, licking fur, cultivating bonds with the female bears.

He saw Samantha squatting her bottom to tease ants, playing childish and immature games.

A single dragon, yet content and at ease.

He saw the Fairy Dragon Long Long Weila lying on a tree branch, her wings and tail drooping, swaying in her sleep as if she might fall at any moment, yet always just barely missing it, making one unable to resist the urge to push her down.

This altitude allowed clear observation of the details on the surface below.

Without exposing his whereabouts.

"Go take a look at my neighbors."

After circling the valley three times, Garos selected the northeast direction to begin his exploration.

Under the cover of night, he soared amidst the flowing winds and floating clouds.

His massive wings beat slowly and steadily, controlling his speed and noise to avoid detection.

His gaze fixed on the surface below.

Mountains, wastelands, forests, lakes—various landscapes reflected in Garos's dragon eyes.

He observed silently, noticing many ferocious beasts and demons hunting in the night.

The Sael Wasteland is a paradise for ferocious beasts and demons.

In comparison.

The number of tribes and clans formed by intelligent species is relatively small, and their life here is perilous; yet any wilderness tribe that manages to survive is often fierce and powerful.

Time trickled away with every beat of Garos's wings.

About half an hour later.

Garos hid within the clouds, gazing intently downward, his vertical pupils locking onto a crescent-shaped valley.

The valley floor.

An area where moonlight could not reach.

A group of creatures with bluish-gray fur were active.

They walked upright, with adults standing over two meters tall.

Their hunched spines rose with exaggerated muscle curves, their bodies covered in a layer of steel-needle-hard fur, their necks sporting gray manes like lions, and their protruding snouts filled with interlocking fangs.

—Gray Mane Werewolves.

A branch of werewolves.

Legend has it.

The ancestors of werewolves were once human.

Because they offended and angered the Moon Goddess, they were cursed into bloodthirsty demons with half-human, half-wolf forms; though other theories suggest their ancestors transformed themselves into this state through forbidden dark experiments.

From ancient times to the present.

Werewolves have developed many different branches.

Some werewolves can appear in human form during the day, with speech and intelligence no different from normal humans.

But once provoked or bathed in the light of a full moon, they transform into a half-human, half-wolf, bloodthirsty and ferocious state.

The Gray Mane Werewolves, however, have long lived in the barbaric lands and completely abandoned the human form.

They live in werewolf form normally, possessing a vicious temperament alongside human-like intelligence.

If bathed in full moonlight again, or standing on the brink of death with intense, tense emotions.

They will advance further, transforming completely into giant wolf forms, greatly increasing their combat power while gradually losing reason, immersing themselves in battle and slaughter.

Within the crescent valley stood several houses built from hard wood or rocks.

The outer perimeter was a wall constructed by stacking blocks of marble, bonded together with smeared mud and glue.

Inside the wall.

On the open ground adjacent to the valley's stone cliffs.

Adult werewolves were training cubs, tossing heavy, hard iron-birch wood into the air; the cubs immediately leaped three meters high, gnawing with their tender fangs, leaving pits of varying depths on the wood.

"Much more diligent than dragon cubs, and they even know how to train."

Garos thought silently.

Dragons possess too many innate talents.

All dragons know from birth that they will stand at a peak most can hardly reach, but this has also bred laziness in dragons; individuals like Garos are exceedingly rare.

When still in the Iron Dragon Mother's territory.

The Red Dragon Samantha and the Iron Dragon Gorton.

The two spent every day wandering and loafing aside from eating and sleeping; even though their lineage contained countless precious treasures of knowledge that ordinary people would flock to, they never took the initiative to excavate or learn them, let alone exercise their bodies or sharpen their claws and fangs.

"Could it be that evil dragons simply drive their young offspring out to force them to change their lazy habits through the pressure of the external environment?"

A guess arose in Garos's mind.

But after thinking it over, he felt he was probably overthinking it.

It was more likely that the evil dragon mother simply found it too much trouble to care for her offspring.

Garos gathered his thoughts, his gaze continuing to sweep across the crescent valley.

There were some crooked bone towers along the territory's walls.

Gray-maned werewolf sentries stood atop the bone towers, carrying long bows on their backs; their wolf-like eyes, unaffected by darkness, swept around the surroundings while their ears twitched, listening intently to every suspicious rustle of wind and movement.

On the periphery, some werewolf cavalry rode giant wolves on patrol.

When they stopped to rest, they disregarded their own needs and instead prioritized feeding and watering their mounts.

Moreover, some displayed a posture of great intimacy, nuzzling each other and licking one another's fur.

It did not resemble the normal relationship between a knight and a mount.

Garos noticed this.

At first he was somewhat puzzled, but after "searching" within the inherited knowledge, he suddenly understood.

If a werewolf remains in giant wolf form for too long, they will gradually succumb to their beastly nature, completely lose themselves, and never transform back into a werewolf, becoming a giant wolf beast instead.

Only werewolves with the closest bloodline ties to them can soothe them, communicating with them on a spiritual level through their bloodline.

In the society of the Gray-maned werewolves, who have fully beastified,

there is often a bloodline bond between the knights and their mounts.

They were perhaps originally spouses, father and son, or brothers.

Because of this relationship, the way these knights and their mounts interacted was unusual, and their coordination was more tacit and powerful than that of ordinary knights.

"This territory has over thirty giant wolf knights; setting aside the cubs and minors, the number of adult werewolves is at least over a hundred."

"I have not yet seen their leader, or the existence of a shaman or witch doctor of some kind."

Hidden within the clouds, Garos silently assessed the strength of this "neighbor."

For a tribe of this scale, under normal circumstances, there would be at least one witch doctor or shaman; moreover, Garos had noticed that totem poles stood erect within their territory.

His gaze continued to sweep over, and when he noticed the western corner of Crescent Moon Valley, Garos's eyes narrowed.

He saw the wreckage of a metal transport vehicle, covered in bite and tear marks, with several wolf cubs gnawing on the sheet metal to sharpen their teeth.

This Gray-maned werewolf tribe had raided a caravan passing through the Thousand Serpent Scars.

(End of Chapter)