Chapter 7: May God Bless You!
Rhodes stepped into the cabin. The fireplace crackled with fire, warming his slightly chilled body almost instantly.
Unobtrusively, Rhodes scanned the modest wooden house. A sofa, a bed, a table with a few stools, and a partition—everything was furnished quite simply.
“Have some water, warm yourself up,” the elderly woman offered kindly, gesturing for Rhodes to sit. She went into the back room and returned with a cup of hot water.
Rhodes frowned subtly, his thoughts racing with suspicion.
Out here in the wilderness, to meet a stranger who was this hospitable, something wasn’t right. And to be living alone in a forest where werewolves roam?
That’s even more suspicious.
He accepted the tea without taking a sip, quietly placing it on the table.
“Excuse me, is there a village or town nearby?” he asked.
Seeing that Rhodes didn’t drink the tea, the woman’s smile faltered for a moment.
“It’s quite late. The town’s probably all asleep by now. Why don’t you spend the night here and leave in the morning?”
Rhodes glanced around the tiny cabin. There was barely enough room for one person, let alone two.
“I’d rather not,” he said firmly.
Seeing that he had no intention of staying, the old woman sighed softly and pointed him in a direction.
“Keep walking straight ahead from here. You’ll see the village soon enough. But there are dangerous beasts in the forest. I suggest you wait until dawn to leave.”
Beasts? What could be more dangerous than werewolves?
Rhodes dismissed her warning with a nod of thanks and headed out.
The old woman stood at the doorway, watching him disappear into the darkness before muttering, “Clever little guy.”
About twenty minutes later, the lights of a village came into view. Yet, Rhodes’s expression grew puzzled as he approached. The village, though not large, was surrounded by a tall, thick wall, and torches were placed every few meters along it, completely encircling the settlement in firelight. It looked like they were trying to ward something off.
As Rhodes emerged from the shadows, a patrol of armed militiamen on the wall spotted him. Nervous and fearful eyes turned toward him.
“Don’t worry, I’m just a traveler passing through,” Rhodes said calmly, stepping into the torchlight.
Seeing he was a normal human, the militiamen relaxed slightly but quickly tensed up again.
“How did you get through the forest this late?”
“Walked straight through it,” Rhodes said with a slight shrug. Their guarded looks made him sigh internally.
“You didn’t run into anything… strange?”
The militia captain asked cautiously.
“You mean those creatures that turn into wolves? I ran into one. Killed it,” Rhodes said bluntly.
Werewolves and humans were enemies. Telling the truth might not make me a hero, but at least it would win their favor.
The militiamen looked at him in disbelief. As seasoned fighters, they knew better than anyone how terrifying werewolves were. Even with fire and blessed silver, it took ten skilled hunters to bring one down, with heavy casualties at that.
And he did it alone? Impossible.
Just as the group was doubting his words, a sharp, blood-chilling howl rang out from the darkness.
The militiamen immediately tensed up.
“It’s a werewolf! Get inside now!”
“Ring the bell! We’ve got a werewolf!”
Chaos broke out as one of the creatures charged from the underbrush, covered in fur, its eyes glowing red with feral bloodlust.
“This one’s not afraid of fire!”
“It must’ve been starving too long. Prepare for battle!”
“Stranger, get over here! Don’t be stupid!”
Fully armed, the militiamen rang the bell and shakily raised their weapons, ready to die if they had to. If the werewolf broke into the village, the consequences would be catastrophic.
But then, to their astonishment, they saw the stranger—Rhodes—not retreat but calmly walk toward the werewolf.
What was he doing? Committing suicide?
The militia was certain they were about to witness this outsider get his head bitten off. But what happened next left them utterly stunned.
A dull crash rang out. The feral werewolf, moments away from lunging, suddenly stopped in its tracks. Rhodes had grabbed its head with one hand and slammed it violently into the ground. A beast nearly 2.5 meters tall, towering over Rhodes, now looked like a broken doll pinned by a calm, eerily powerful man.
Like a demon possessed, Rhodes held the snarling werewolf down with one hand, completely unmoved. With a cold expression, Rhodes drew a short-barreled shotgun from beneath his coat, carved a cross on the creature’s forehead—