Chapter 45: Monster from Another Territory

[Emergency Quest: Smuggling Werewolves / Completed]

[The forest’s favorability has increased.]

"How did this Werewolf appear in the Broken Steel Mountain Range?" Blaze crossed his arms and frowned.

Werewolves were not Monsters that typically appeared in the Faist Territory.

It was said that they were a race that worshipped the moon and prayed for its forgiveness, so their habitats were plains or mountain ranges completely bathed in moonlight. Some Werewolves even lived in snowfields where it was almost perpetually night.

For Werewolves, the Faist Territory had far too many areas heavily shaded by tree canopies. While excellent for hunting, it made for an uncomfortable place to live.

According to Chicken, the forest did not welcome Werewolves because the Filthy Blood in their bodies was similar to the Evil God’s Blood—both possessed an Erosion Effect. The only difference was that the Evil God’s Blood made the eroded victim powerful, short-lived, and bloodthirsty, whereas the Filthy Blood merely made the victim unclean and ostracized.

In the Minstrels’ tales, the vast majority of Werewolves lived on the western side of the continent, across the Hundred-Womb Ganges. It was impossible for them to cross over, unless...

Blaze looked down at his feet—or, more accurately, at the tunnel dug by the Dwarves beneath the rocks.

The Werewolves had found an underground passage that crossed the Hundred-Womb Ganges and arrived here.

If this was just an isolated incident, it wouldn’t be a problem. But if this was a large-scale Werewolf migration, then the Faist Territory might face a terrifying invasive species. A Monster like the Werewolf, with practically no weaknesses, would cause overwhelming Destruction to the local ecosystem.

Most importantly, they might encounter these dangerous Monsters in the mine tunnels they were scheduled to travel through in three days. His current level simply wasn’t high enough to clash head-on with a Werewolf—let alone a pack of them—in a narrow tunnel.

"Chicken, hurry up and tell Herbie about this."

Chicken didn’t waste any words; she immediately flapped her wings and disappeared from sight.

Blaze paced back and forth, feeling a bit anxious. In truth, he was faintly worried about something else entirely.

That was the reason why the Werewolves would go to such lengths to traverse the tunnel and reach the Broken Steel Mountain Range.

There were two reasons why Werewolves only survived in places bathed in moonlight for long periods: first, they were a race with a Faith dedicated to the moonlight; second, the parasitic Moonlight Worms.

If Moonlight Worms were deprived of moonlight for a certain period, they would weaken and die.

And their deaths were not quiet in the slightest. While these bugs didn’t possess the capacity to feel pain, their reflexes would drive them to bite their hosts with absolute Madness, forcing the host to seek out moonlight. For a species like Werewolves, whose entire bodies were infested with these parasites, being bitten like that was akin to walking on blades or wading through a sea of fire.

What on earth could compel them to endure such agony while navigating a dark tunnel? Were they fleeing from something far more terrifying than the bites of Moonlight Worms?

Chicken soon came whistling back. She brought one piece of bad news, and one that was even worse.

The bad news was that they couldn’t wait three days; they had to set out tomorrow. The worse news was that the silver-white Werewolves were Monsters from Audrey’s domain—the Arcadia Territory.

Some horrific incident must have occurred in Arcadia.

***

Another resurrection. Dead again.

The Death God and the little girl stared at each other from a distance.

At this distance, the scythe in the Death God’s hands could effortlessly Chop off the little girl’s head. However, the Death God could only reap the little girl’s Life; he could not extinguish her soul. As long as the Flame of her soul was not put out, the little girl would resurrect time and time again.

Even the Death God was starting to find this tedious. He casually sliced apart a giant python that tried to ambush him. The creature’s dying struggles caused the Flames in the Death God’s eyes to flicker slightly, but the interest quickly vanished because the opponent was simply too weak.

He had zero interest in bullying the weak. However, a job was a job, and he never let personal emotions interfere with his work. But this particular job had dragged on for far too long, and it was getting on his nerves. He was supposed to be on the other side of the continent, locked in a life-and-death struggle with the Monsters in the darkness of the Arcadia Territory. Instead, he was stuck here, mechanically swinging his scythe.

"It’s about time you give up. Let alone reaching the Epidaurus Theater, you won’t even make it out of this Amazon Jungle."

The resurrected little girl trudged silently across the muddy ground, stubbornly enduring the bites of venomous insects without making a sound. Even if the Death God didn’t come to reap her Life, she could be killed by this environment at any given moment.

"Even if a wide, open road was laid out before you and you could run without fatigue, you still wouldn’t be able to reach your destination."

The little girl stopped in her tracks. Facing this Death God—who was countless times stronger than her and existed on an entirely different plane—she sneered fearlessly.

"You’re just a dead man. Stop telling the living to give up." ℯ

"Do I look like a mere dead man to you?" The Death God threw back his hood, revealing a terrifying skull. Only two Flames danced within its empty eye sockets.

The little girl gave a cold snort of disgust and then began to sing. Her voice was childish, yet brimming with courage. As she painstakingly stepped over a protruding tree root, her petite body resembled a solitary firefly in the treacherous jungle. That faint light could be snuffed out at any second.

The Death God raised his scythe once more, but a raven abruptly flew over and landed on his shoulder. Halting his movements, the Death God lifted a skeletal finger to touch the bird. With a loud BANG, the raven suddenly exploded into a skeletal bird, its scattered feathers swirling in the air to form a letter.

This was an Undead raven that had disguised a letter as its own feathers.

They were urging him to hurry up and finish his other job: forcing this little girl—who had died countless times already—to finally say the words "I give up."

He wasn’t good at dealing with children, and he was even worse at dealing with stubborn children. But a job was a job.

"Why are you so dead set on performing at the Epidaurus Theater?"

Perhaps because this was the first time the Death God had brought up a topic she actually wanted to discuss, the little girl stopped walking.

"I want wealth and status."

"...Huh?" Even for the Death God, a look of genuine astonishment appeared on his skeletal face.

"And I want cute dresses, pretty shoes, a luxurious mansion, a beautiful garden, a handsome personal butler, delicious pastries, delightful afternoon tea parties, and a whole harem of handsome bo—"

"SKIP!"

The corners of the Death God’s eyes twitched, even though he didn’t have any flesh on his face. He might not be interested in the arts, but he knew that those who made it to the Epidaurus Theater were all outstanding Artists who devoted their entire beings to singing, like graceful swans. Meanwhile, the target standing before him was basically a yapping, insatiably greedy little mutt.

"I see. You’re willing to fulfill these wishes of mine." The little girl walked back to stand in front of the Death God, her face completely deadpan. This was the most well-behaved she had ever been, looking exactly like a rebellious puppy returning to its food bowl.

"If all these wishes of mine came true, I just might give up on my performance."

"What!?"

She sold herself out over a single "SKIP"!?