The warlord

Harold spent a day in the forest. After the destruction of Baron's castle and the execution of most wrongdoers, he was now searching for another secret. Knowing that the disappearance of villagers and the werewolf monster were part of the Dark Order's plans, he became determined to cleanse the region.

In truth, he had come here because he had already suspected the Dark Order's involvement in the area. If someone else had been sent to investigate, they probably wouldn't have reached the same conclusions and would have failed.

For the temple, Harold was an ideal choice—a mighty knight, a dual wielder skilled in both magic and swordsmanship. Such an individual was not easily found. Even the Imperial Court had fewer than a handful of individuals with his abilities.

As night fell, the chirping of cicadas filled the air. The sound of the rushing river brought a refreshing sense of vitality. The trees appeared to be wandering spirits, each wanting to trap a lost soul forever within their wooden trunks.

Harold sat on a smooth boulder sharpening his silver sword. Each time he ran the whetstone along the blade, sparks flew. The sparks glowed like fireflies, flickering briefly before fading into the night.

He thought of the villagers who would face piles of corpses at dawn. Those who should have been plowing the fields would now find empty land, digging numerous graves—or perhaps even a single large pit to bury everyone at once. He thought of the children who would have to witness the judgment of the goddess up close. How would they feel when they saw such a painful scene?

"Oh, may God's mercy embrace all. Those who leave this world have no way back..."

Then he reached into his collar and pulled out an obsidian stone shaped like a four-pointed star. He touched the smooth, purple surface of the stone and took a deep breath. Those who passed away took a piece of someone's being with them to the grave. But what could be done when life moved forward? As he tucked the pendant back under his collar, he murmured softly, "It won't be long... I'll see you again..."

Somewhere farther from him, among the spruces and wild birches, a man was gasping for breath, trying to escape. Unable to control his instincts, he fell to his knees and let out an ear-piercing scream. The entire forest woke in fear.

The terrified man looked at his hands, which were now swollen and elongated. The hair on the back of his hands had grown thicker, and his teeth had torn through his gums, protruding far ahead. His jaw cracked multiple times, moved forward slightly, and took the shape of a snout. His eyes turned blood-red, hidden behind a layer of black fur. His clothes tore apart, and his nails, now long and black, resembled dark stone.

With those dreadful hands, he grabbed his head tightly, his long nails leaving deep cuts on his face. He screamed in pain and immediately ran toward a nearby pond.

In a deep, grating voice, he yelled, "No!!!!"

Even though six months had passed since his first transformation, he still hadn't gotten used to it.

Looking at his horrific reflection in the water, he said, "Joseph!!! You stupid bastard! What have you done to yourself?! Now she hates you, and you hate yourself!"

Suddenly, his reflection in the water smirked and responded, "Why do you look so hopeless, Joseph? Do you think just because you're different, they have the right to hate you?"

Joseph jumped back in terror and said, "You... Who are you?"

The voice, as though emerging from the depths of his mind, replied, "Who am I? I'm you, Joseph!"

"Shut up! I won't be your puppet, demon!"

"Hahaha! Demon? Nobody calls themselves a demon, Joseph. Even the dirtiest of people delude themselves into thinking they're pure, and yet you call yourself a demon?"

"Stay away from me!!! Get away from me!!!"

"Hahaha! How can I stay away from myself, Joseph? You are me, and I am you! We are the denied truth of this wretched body! Years of silence have brought us to this point, where we've sold our soul to the servant of the devil!"

Suddenly, Joseph jolted upright as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over him. "Servant of the devil? I only wanted her to love me! I just wanted her approval! I... I wanted her to see me as someone worth looking at!"

"No, no, my poor Joseph! You never wanted that... Why would you seek someone else's approval? You accepted this curse for her to love you? Why should she love you—a cursed man? If she were capable of such a great sacrifice, why didn't she pay attention to you from the start?"

"You... You!!!!!"

"My poor Joseph, lost in despair! You were never seeking anyone's approval. Why would you? Our purpose is greater than the love of a village girl!"

"Shut up!!! Don't insult her!!! You have no right to speak her name with your filthy mouth!"

"Oh, my poor Joseph, what ensnared you wasn't the curse of a devil's servant. You were trapped by that hag! Let me show you the path to redemption!"

Suddenly, the reflection in the water attacked Joseph. He jumped back, screaming, "No!!! You can't hurt her!"

The reflection, now ghostly, said, "That's right, my poor Joseph, we'll end this curse! Together!!!"

The reflection and Joseph wrestled with each other, falling to the ground and striking one another repeatedly. Joseph screamed in pain, but the reflection laughed louder and louder. In reality, there was no reflection. Joseph was battling his subconscious. This dark image born in his mind was the effect of the curse that had turned him into a werewolf.

This was the first effect of the curse on Joseph.

The second effect was tied to his memory. In truth, Joseph had fought this shadow countless times, but after each battle, he lost and forgot his memories of the shadow and their fights.

Each time the shadow gained control of Joseph, it infiltrated his darkest desires and worked toward fulfilling them. If Joseph wanted a woman for a moment, the shadow achieved it on a full moon; if he was angry with someone, the shadow killed them. The shadow imposed no limits on itself. It saw itself as someone claiming his rightful dues. It was the dark side of Joseph that he had always suppressed.

Suddenly, Joseph stood up, his eyes glowing in the light of the full moon. His body bore marks of wounds and bruises. He spat blood from his mouth and howled with all his might.

"I must break this curse, my poor Joseph! I won't let anyone hurt us again... We... must survive!"

As he said this, he ran at full speed and vanished into the darkness of the forest. Harold sensed the howl in the distance. The hunt was far from over.