Kaelor approached Hound, who sheathed his Mountain Sabers and gave a subtle nod.
"You killed a devil beast none of us could’ve survived against," Hound said, voice low with admiration.
Kaelor lowered his gaze to the ruby embedded in the pommel of Ignis. It was cracked all over, dulled, and lifeless now.
"It wasn’t just me," Kaelor murmured. "It was luck... and this sword."
Hound gave a low chuckle, baring his knife-like fangs. The moment should’ve felt like victory, but Kaelor noticed something strange in his eyes, a flicker of unease.
"You feeling okay?" he asked, concern creeping into his voice.
"I don’t think you should use your magic on me for a while," Hound said seriously. "I feel like there’s a beast inside me... and it’s trying to break out."
He recalled the moments during battle when his Dreadclaws showed feral traits, nearly losing themselves to their instincts. It wasn’t just about gaining power, the fusion came at a mental cost.
"We need intense training," Kaelor said, his voice heavy. "Without it, our men could lose themselves to the wolf inside."
Hound nodded. "The power is real... but without control, it’s just madness waiting to happen."
Kaelor looked across the battlefield. Most of the direwolves lay dead, while his Guardsmen inspected the bodies, limping and bloodied. One Dreadclaw, however, lay motionless, killed by the Wolf King. Jon and two others stood before the fallen, heads bowed, lips moving in silent tribute.
Considering the size of the enemy pack, it was almost a miracle.
A familiar chime sounded in his mind.
[You have gained 1,500 Fusion Points for defending your town from a huge pack of hungry wolves.]
The notification stirred something inside him, the old itch, the hunger to evolve further, to grow stronger, to give his people an edge.
Each of his men had already fused with three direwolves. With the number of dead enemies littering the field, he could push them to five.
The memory of Hound’s words lingered. If the mind couldn’t keep up with the body, they’d lose themselves. Hound’s mental and physical fortitude, once at the peak of Adept, had allowed him to reach a state Kaelor now recognized as Sacredclaw, thanks to fusing with the white wolf, second only to the Wolf King itself.
Hound’s body might rival a Master’s... but his battle prowess was still only Adept level. Without mastery of his weapon, that physical strength was a dangerous blessing.
"There are over forty corpses," Kaelor said aloud, eyes scanning the bloody field. "The rest fled."
He crossed his arms, jaw tightening.
"Can’t they handle one more?" he muttered.
Hound squinted. "I don’t know. Maybe. But it could break them."
Before Kaelor could decide, a desperate cry echoed from the town gates.
A man came running, slipping in the mud before falling to his knees.
Kaelor stepped forward, with Hound close behind. "What happened?"
"I want to join your soldiers," the man panted, wiping at his tear-streaked face.
Kaelor blinked, momentarily stunned. After all they had seen, the gore, the violence, what would drive this man to volunteer?
He looked up... and saw more townsmen approaching.
Behind them, women were tending to the Dreadclaws’ wounds, undeterred by the fur, the claws, or the snarling appearance. They moved with care, with admiration, even reverence.
Though the Dreadclaws resembled beasts, their bodies weren’t completely covered in fur. Their humanoid features, powerful builds, and presence seemed to command admiration, not fear.
Was it the awe of survival? The helplessness they’d felt during the Wolf King’s approach? Or the sudden allure of strength?
But twenty villagers knelt before him, fifteen men and five women, heads bowed, resolve written in their eyes.
Training would’ve been ideal. But time wasn’t a luxury he could afford.
"Fuse. Two wolves per person."
Kaelor raised his hand as the dead wolves and volunteers rose into the air, glowing with a deep azure flame. The light intensified as the bodies collided, humans and wolves merging in midair, limbs twisting, bones reshaping, muscles stretching.
He wasn’t interested in the men’s results. He’d seen that many times. But the women, those were new.
As the final sparks faded, Kaelor’s eyes fell upon fifteen transformed men. Each stood around 1.8 meters tall, hulking figures with dark gray fur, black claws, and powerful, reverse-jointed legs built for sprinting. Their dull yellow eyes gleamed with a black sclera, and their broad chests and thick forearms radiated strength.
But then Kaelor looked past them, his gaze catching on the five women.
They stood proud and still, transformed beyond recognition.
Their ash-gray skin matched their male counterparts, but their frames, taller, broader, and more sculpted, carried a fierce femininity. Muscle traced their arms and shoulders, not bulky but defined. Sharp black claws tipped their fingers, and fangs gleamed when they opened their mouths. Erect wolf ears poked out from the top of their heads, twitching to catch sounds in the breeze. Long, bushy tails swayed behind them, sprouting just above their hips.
What stunned Kaelor most wasn’t just their bestial traits, but the sheer magnetism of their presence. Their bodies, without fur, still bore the curves of womanhood, amplified by the transformation. They were terrifying, yet... mesmerizing.
In that instant, Kaelor had one ridiculous thought.
If he brought fusion back to Earth, he’d be a billionaire, or a test subject in a government lab.
A roar of surprise and curiosity erupted from the Dreadclaws, both old and new, as they took in the sight of their female counterparts.
Kaelor glanced sideways at Hound, who was still staring... his expression unreadable.
But Kaelor knew what he was thinking.
Even Hound was starting to reconsider his thoughts about marriage.
He didn’t have to read minds.
Hound’s face said it all.
With a chuckle, Kaelor turned to the four remaining corpses. "Butcher them and share the meat with everyone in the town."
After that order, he left for his residence. Like every other man that fought that brutal battle, he needed rest, his bones still ached.