The captain of the South Gate Guard adjusted his hatâa feathered cap, his signature piece. As he tilted the brim a few times, he gazed at the bright full moon above.
"What is my duty?"
To protect the capital.
It wasnât a newfound realization.
He had always known, but recent events had reignited his resolve.
A noble of royal blood, a bastard once branded a prodigal sonâ
The queenâs kin had now embraced his duty and responsibility.
Then, he too must fulfill his role.
And so, the captain reached a conclusionâhe could no longer turn a blind eye to the so-called Moonlight Beast.
Thus, he acted. A squire had fallen victim, so he made his move, fully prepared.
"This way," the captain instructed his men.
"But, Captain, are we sure itâs coming out tonight?"
A scruffy soldier, unshaven and rough-looking, asked doubtfully.
"Of course."
There were those in the capital who had taken an interest in the Moonlight Beastâand the South Gate Guard Captain was one of them.
He had investigated, surveyed the area, and predicted the creatureâs most likely hunting grounds.
In other words, he operated on the same thought process as Enkrid.
A full moon.
A location far from the noble district.
"Here."
If it didnât show up, then they would simply start again.
They didnât have the manpower to sweep the entire district.
He had only brought three of his most trusted men.
With himself and three subordinates, they could take down a single werewolf.
He had no idea how it hid during the day and only appeared at night.
"Must be some weird magic at work."
A spell cast by some insane sorcerer, no doubt.
The captain scanned his surroundings under the moonlight.
Would the beast appear?
His question was answered.
Thud!
A sickening splatter, followed by the overwhelming stench of blood.
It came from deeper in the alley.
The captain sprinted forward.
"Captain?"
"Follow me!"
He shouted, dashing into the alley.
And there, drenched in blood, was a monster.
Ears pointed sharply upward.
Its body was covered not in fur, but in feathers as hard as steel.
It was twice the height of a human.
Its arms were as thick as a manâs thighs.
It nearly filled the entire alleyway.
The passage was wide enough for three grown men to walk side by side.
The captain swallowed hard.
If fear took hold, even a winnable fight would be lost.
He steadied his resolve and spoke.
"So itâs not a werewolfâitâs an owlbear."
As he spoke, he drew his sword.
The sching of metal rang out as the blade reflected the moonlight.
Gripping the sword with both hands, he faced his opponent.
The owlbear turned slightly, revealing its profile.
Its round eyes bulged, and thick red veins ran visibly through them.
For them to be visible even in the moonlight, they had to be massive.
To meet its gaze, the captain had to tilt his head back.
His eyes followed from its head, down its entire body, to the ground.
Blood pooled thickly on the cobblestones.
A corpse lay discarded to the side.
Gnarled intestines dangled from between the beastâs claws.
Torn flesh, shattered bonesâthe dark crimson stains remained murky even under the moonlight.
Each of the beastâs talons was thick and sharp, resembling brutal, serrated blades.
Yet the owlbear paid no attention to the captainâs scrutiny.
It trembled, its entire body shuddering.
And at that moment, the captain knew.
This damned thing was enjoying itself.
It was drunk on bloodlust.
It relished the slaughter.
"Having fun, are you!?"
His duty was to protect the city.
To protect its citizens.
To cut down the monsters that turned moonlit nights into nightmares.
He kicked off the groundâ
And swung his sword in a vertical slash.
He closed the distance in a single step.
He wasnât aiming to sever its limbs or torso in one blow.
But with the right angle, he could carve out a chunk of flesh.
A clean, precise strikeâhis specialty.
The owlbear blocked it with a single swipe of its arm.
It saw the incoming bladeâs trajectoryâ
And tilted a single claw outward to deflect it.
Clang!
Sparks flew as the blade was parried.
The moment his attack was stopped, the captain immediately leaped backward.
He wasnât a knight, but he was skilled enough to handle most foes.
At the very least, he considered himself on par with a squire.
That was why he had risen to the rank of captain.
But thisâ
Was different.
Hadnât a squire barely managed to survive against this thing?
"Even though I didnât swing with full forceâ"
The moment their weapons clashed, his hands nearly went numb.
More than anything, that movementâ
The angle, the defenseâ
It was as if the beast had learned swordplay.
He was outmatched.
If he fought alone, he would die.
He would end up just like that squire.
Fortunately, he wasnât alone.
Sweat trickled down his back.
Instead of succumbing to fear, he boldly retreated further and shoutedâ
"Surround it!"
The owlbearâs eyes locked onto him.
Joy.
Desire.
Murderous intent.
Hatred.
Everything swirled within those brown eyes.
The deep red veins bulging from them only made it more horrifying.
Even though it hadnât opened its mouth, its sharp beak looked like it could skewer him in an instant.
And those eyesâ
They were disturbingly human.
But there was no time to dwell on such thoughts.
As he backed away, the owlbear stalked after him, slow and deliberate.
It followed him right to the alleyâs entranceâ
Where his three men were waiting with spears.
The moonlight illuminated the entrance perfectly, leaving the inside of the alley shrouded in darkness.
One of the nervous soldiers gulped audibly.
Meanwhile, the captain was drenched in sweat.
The owlbear took a slow step forward.
For a creature of its size, it was eerily quiet.
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
If it wanted to, it could ambush prey without making a sound.
It moved with the steps of a born hunter.
As it stepped into the open and saw the weapons aimed at itâ
It breathed in deeply.
Its chest expanded.
"Strike!"
The captain shouted, knowing they had to attack first.
A desperate gamble born from fear.
Even as he realized how powerful the enemy was, his sense of duty remained.
The moment he gave the orderâ
"Oooooooooh!"
The beast roared.
Its cry drowned out the captainâs command, reverberating through the air.
The sheer force of its call slammed into their ears.
"Guh!"
The moment he heard it, the captain felt his entire body lock up.
His heartbeat pounded wildly, his muscles seizedâhe froze.
A prey animal that encounters its natural predator cannot escape fear.
This was why monsters were called humanityâs natural predators.
Some of the more powerful ones could paralyze people with just their voices.
For a brief moment, he saw itâ
The vision of the beastâs claws tearing out his throat, its talons digging into his chest.
And in that instantâ
He froze.
His men did too.
"Weâre going to die."
The paralyzing fear of death took hold.
It was the kind of terror only high-ranking monsters could invokeâthe kind that turned battle-hardened men into trembling prey.
Like a mouse freezing before a cat, the owlbearâs cry had subjugated its enemies with a single sound.
The creature raised its claw.
It was ready to pluck off their heads, one by one, to savor the warm, fresh brains inside.
There was no finer delicacy.
"Kuhh."
A low chuckle escaped.
This was a pleasure beyond anything a human life could offer.
At first, it had resented this transformationâcursed the grotesque form forced upon it.
But now?
Now, it was bliss.
Why resist something so exhilarating?
As long as it avoided knights, there was nothing to fear.
What would they send after it?
A couple of squires, at best?
More guards?
The bodies at its feet confirmed the truth:
The capital was now its hunting ground.
A feast, endless and overflowing, stretched before it.
How could it not rejoice?
Ecstasy surged through its veins, its feathers trembling with anticipation.
Every fiber of its body tensed and relaxed in waves, the thrill of the hunt consuming it.
It was time to indulge.
"Kuhrhrhr."
Drool dripped from its beak.
The urge to sink its talons into flesh was unbearable.
It would think no longerâ
It would act.
Just as it prepared to strikeâ
Tap, tap, tap.
The faint sound of footfalls.
Behind.
To the left.
Roughly twenty paces away.
Since acquiring this body, its hearing had become exquisite.
Calculating distance from sound alone was trivial.
Someone was closing in.
Faster.
Too fast.
Before human reasoning could catch up, the beastâs instincts took over.
Shkk!
Its claws extendedâtwice their previous length.
Both arms crossed in front, forming a defense.
From the darkness of the alley, it sawâ
A flash of white streaking toward it.
Its nocturnal vision turned night into day, allowing it to see clearly.
A shape burst forth, leaving only a ghostly blur in its wake.
Thenâ
Hwoom!
Something shot toward itâthree times faster than the approaching footsteps.
Two sharp lines cut across its visionâ
Originating from the figureâs arms, slicing toward its body.
The owlbear instinctively raised its arms, leveling them parallel to the groundâ
As if forming a shield.
The twin streaks slammed into its forearm.
Thunk!
A dull, heavy impact.
The owlbear felt the force travel through its bones.
Its iron-hard feathers heldâits body wasnât cut.
But the shock from the blow lingered.
Its attacker had already retreated, vanishing just as quickly as they had struck.
The moment its guard was raised, a second movement followed.
A calculated retreatâ
Dodging the owlbearâs counterattack before it even landed.
Its talons carved through empty space, raking the spot where the intruder had just stood.
Regaining its footing, the beast straightened.
Then it spoke.
It cocked its head, curiosity flickering in its bloodthirsty eyes.
"âŠHuh. There was someone else?"
Its voice was hoarse, deepâbarely human anymore.
A slow grin spread across its monstrous face.
"Well then⊠the feast just got bigger."
The creature stood in its half-beast formâits human origins twisted into a monstrous hybrid of man and predator.
And yet, it spoke.
Flawlessly.
No hesitation, no struggle.
Even as its mouth curved into an inhuman grin, its words carried the ease of conversation.
But its senses told it the truth.
The one before it was not alone.
Its sharp ears and nose caught the faint traces of others nearby.
Still, it couldnât afford to divide its attention.
The presence before it exuded too much pressure.
This was the one who had slashed at it with twin golden arcsâeyes burning bright as the sun even beneath the pale moonlight.
And then, the figure spoke.
"Hey, dumbass. Iâm a beastkin."
The words were aimed directly at it.
"And? I was human once, too. Then I became an owlbear. Whatâs the difference?"
It wasnât a lie.
It had felt anger at first, at its transformation. But now?
There was no point in denying it.
Pleasure. Hunger. The thrill of the hunt.
The joy of it all.
It had no quarrel with another predator.
There was more than enough food to go around.
Man, woman, young, oldâit made no difference.
But the golden-eyed beastkin gritted their teeth, snarling before shoutingâ
"You dumb son of a bitch, there are no owlbear beastkin!"
And with that, Dunbakel lunged.
Bang!
The earth cracked beneath her step as her body stretched forward.
In each hand, she wielded a curved blade.
Shorter than a scimitar, but already a natural extension of her limbs.
The air split as she swungâone blade rising, the other falling.
A chaotic, twisting assault.
A technique of her own making, drawn from observing Enkrid and forging it into something uniquely hers.
A strike that could slash or pierce mid-motion.
Yetâ
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Steel met claw.
The owlbear blocked, countered, and struck in turn.
Its talons were harder than iron, easily deflecting the assault.
And then, it lungedâ
A single swipe, talons growing mid-motion, aiming straight for Dunbakelâs unguarded stomach.
But she twisted.
Pivoting on her left foot, she spun awayâ
And in the same motion, she slashed.
Fwoosh!
Faster than before.
The blade cut through empty air, grazing the edge of its feathers.
The owlbear did not advance.
"Tch. Annoying."
This one fought better than the squire from before.
Stillâ
It was manageable.
Even if things went south, it could always retreat.
But thenâ
"Oi, what the hell? Youâre just some oversized owl?"
A voice rang out behind it.
A man stood there, twirling a long-handled axe.
Familiar.
It had seen that face before.
Where?
Its memory failed, but its instincts screamed.
A problem.
"Maybe I should runâ"
It never finished the thought.
"Answer my question, and Iâll let you walk away."
A voice.
Right behind it.
A chill raced down its spine.
It lashed out, elbow slamming backâ
Its steel-feathered arm was a weapon.
Anything human would be crushed, bones turned to pulpâ
But the strike missed.
The bastard had already moved.
Too fast.
Too smooth.
They had anticipated the attack.
And thenâ
"Who leads the Black Blade?"
The owlbear didnât answer.
Instead, it inhaledâ
And roared.
OooOOOOOOHH!
A monstrous bellow, heavy with power.
A predatorâs scream meant to shatter the resolve of lesser beings.
It had worked before.
The guards had frozen.
Pissed themselves.
Surelyâ
âŠWait.
Why was no one screaming?
The hat-wearing bastard flinched, but still held his ground.
The others?
Unfazed.
One of themâthe axe-wielderâ
Smirked.
"Shut the fuck up, monster."
Another approached.
Steps slow, deliberate.
Holding⊠a whip?
"You out for a midnight stroll, too?"
The axe-wielder asked, amused.
The one with the whip?
Matthew.
A name it recognized.
A man from the palace.
The bodyguard of Cridianart Landeous Nauril.
A noble stirring unrest in the kingdom.
One who had turned the palace into a battleground of politics and ambition.
And because of thatâ
Because of that manâs actionsâ
The city had become chaotic.
Guards distracted.
The capital too preoccupied to care about the occasional disappearance of a few commoners.
No one would hunt a beast that only preyed on expendables.
Or so it had thought.
It hadnât expected this.
Hunters who werenât bound by status or duty.
People who didnât chase it for their own gain.
Warriors who fought because they chose to.
It didnât understand.
But it knew.
It had miscalculated.
And miscalculations kill.
The owlbear let out a low growl.
It would not die.
It had tasted pleasure.
Had indulged in its instincts.
It would live to feast again.
Would gorge itself on the flesh of the weak.
Would bathe in their blood, crack their bones, and devour theirâ
"Pathetic."
The word cut through its thoughts.
Spoken with utter disdain.
The owlbear bared its fangs.
"Gahah! You bastards think you canâ"
"Why does it talk so much?"
The axe-wielder scoffed.
Matthew, on the other hand, ignored the beast entirely.
His focus was on the men around him.
"So, youâre here on the Marquessâ orders? Figures. He did say heâd handle this personally."
Dunbakel sneered.
"Shut up, freak."
And then there was him.
The silent one.
He hadnât drawn his weapon.
Hadnât spoken since demanding its answer.
Just watched.
Calm.
Still.
Dangerous.
The owlbearâs instincts screamed.
If it movedâ
If it attackedâ
That one would be the end.
And thenâ
"Who leads the Black Blade?"
The voice came again.
Cold.
Unrelenting.
"Answer."
"I donât fucking know!"
The owlbear snapped.
It had meant to stay silent.
But the pressure.
It was suffocating.
"I see."
And thenâ
The weight disappeared.
The man stepped back.
One.
Single.
Step.
But the air shifted.
The noose that had been tightening around its throat loosened.
Just enough.
It wasnât out of danger.
But it could move.
Escape.
It just needed an openingâ
"Captain?"
A new voice.
Familiar.
One it recognized.
And in that instantâ
It knew.
This fight was over.