Tonight, the world was loud.

Growls of creatures, explosions of power, and the rushing of energy-wind merged into a storm.

Normally, the noise would be too much.

Nocturnal creatures—Supernaturals with heightened senses would feel overwhelmed. Irritated. But the noise was a blessing for Miriam. The loud noises blotted out the sound of Princess Selene’s death. All she needed to do was close her eyes.

Her hands clutched the princess’s fur, ready to feel the sticky liquid of the Honey Moon.

But Princess Selene’s body never melted.

Miriam dared herself to open her eyes and realized the princess was still alive. Seething from her body was not moonlight or kingly energy. It was something else. ’Runic energy...?’ She tilted her head, lost in confusion. She hadn’t created any runes, so where did it come from?

As her body leaned to the side, she saw someone standing on the edge of the trench.

Another werewolf.

Despite the change in appearance. Despite the stain from old age. She recognized this werewolf.

"It’s really Arnulf..."

She heard the whisper of a name from Princess Selene’s lips, and her eyes widened.

Upon awakening in the new era, it was impossible for her not to hear about the Silverstar Pack and all the members within it. One particular member that caught her attention the most was Flunra. A werewolf that was previously known as Arnulf the Special.

Miriam knew Flunra.

And she knew how fiercely loyal he was to the royal werewolves.

At the first issue when Prince Alaric succumbed to the Clarentium Empire, deciding to bring the entire kingdom into the empire, Princess Selene was outraged. Miriam never did. All she wanted was to talk with Flunra.

To know his reason for going under the Royal Black Prince.

Flunra is older than her.

In the past, when she was still a child under the teachings of the clan’s Shaman, she had the opportunity to be close to the royal werewolves. The Princes and Princesses. And being in that circle, it was hard for her not to know who Flunra is.

A guardian whom the royals search for if their plan was to survive.

Flunra wasn’t strong. He doesn’t originate from a prestigious clan. Doesn’t even have a King Mark.

Despite all of that, he was well-known and respected.

He always survived no matter the odds.

Nobody could question his ability to survive, either as he had been placed in places that are impossible to survive. The frontlines, cursed locations, inside enemy territories—everything. And something about that made Miriam look up to him.

Someone she always aspired to become.

It was because of him that Miriam decided to become a personal Shaman to the royal werewolves.

She doesn’t need a position of power. Doesn’t need pompous titles.

Like Flunra, she wanted to be useful.

And that werewolf was about ten steps away from her, and he saved Princess Selene.

No royal werewolves had ever died under his watch.

It seemed that was not an exaggeration.

Flunra faced the oncoming tide of crimson—a sea of fur and fang surging toward him with unrelenting force. He didn’t recognize these creatures. Not from this world. He glanced down into the trench, where the crimson wolves threw themselves willingly into the depths.

’The Honey Moon’s work. Clever,’ He mused. ’But nowhere near enough. Not against these foes.’

Even from afar, he had already somewhat grasped the situation.

He could hear the conversation between Princess Selene and Miriam, so he understood the gist of it.

’All of them are at the peak of the ninth-rank realm—and climbing higher into the pseudo-tenth rank.’ His eyes looked to either side, seeing that there were crimson wolves who managed to get through. ’Going against them with brute force is impossible. Frankly, we’re lucky.’

Because of the fragrant scent coming from the trench, none of the crimson wolves attack them.

Too bewitched by the fragrant lure. Too bewitched by Princess Selene’s power.

But it won’t last forever.

Swoosh—!

Flunra raised an arm, protecting himself from the sudden rush of wind.

His brows furrowed as the wind swept over him, carrying the crippling touch of berserk madness.

It weakened the Inner Fang, allowing the Blood Moon’s influence to coil tighter around the weak minds of every werewolf in its reach. Flunra felt it clawing at his sanity, infusing bloodlust into his blood, but he held on.

He endured the storm of rage and stayed perfectly sane.

As the oldest werewolf around, it would be embarrassing for him to not be able to control his anger.

’I smell werewolves approaching—from behind. Plenty of them. Those who broke through won’t be my concern.’ Flunra severed his own hand without flinching and let the blood pool darkly at his feet. ’What I need is the body of the horde. And I have ideas.’

"Arnulf!" Miriam called from behind. She was now supporting Princess Selene. "Let’s put the princess aside first, and then we’ll continue dealing with the horde! There’s still a long way for them to cover, I am sure, so you don’t need to do this alone!"

"Brat," Flunra glanced over his shoulder. "Secure her and then come back if you want to help."

"You’re being reckless! You’re alone, and you might really die!"

"Die...?"

His lips curled into a smirk.

"Me? Die? How? All of those who came from my generation are dead, and I am still alive. You’d better worry about yourself. I hope that after this, I won’t only be talking to your corpse. There are many like you in the past."

"But still..." Miriam was flabbergasted.

She looked at the terrifying horde, one that even she didn’t believe the Royal Black Prince could handle easily, and then back to Flunra again. "All of their individual strengths are very high! It would be akin to fighting a horde of Alpha Primes!"

Flunra chuckled.

Even though she was a Shaman, it seemed she was underestimating the Alpha Primes too much.

"It’s true that each one possesses incredible strength." Flunra’s hand regenerated, stopping the bleeding as he knelt to paint the earth with moonlight energy and his own blood, dragging his hand through the pool into the first stroke of an elaborate formation. At least thirty complex ancient runes took shape.

Each one glowed with a pale light.

As if they were alive.

"But they have no intelligence. That much is obvious," He stood up again after finishing the formation. "The ones behind couldn’t even stop themselves, couldn’t realize the honeyed fragrance was a lure that brought them into a trap.

"Alpha Primes can. They are more dangerous."

He brandished his bloodied hand toward the formation, activating the entire thing.

There are four smaller circles within the formation.

Miriam didn’t know what kind of formation this was, but the four small circles should be the connector.

Glancing to the side, Flunra reached out his hand and pulled a crimson wolf corpse with energy. He did not hesitate and began devouring it, tearing the meat from the bone with his sharp fangs. Rapidly, the paleness on his face disappeared.

Once again, he looked recharged.

Even after creating such a complicated formation that should’ve drained his stamina, he was fine.

Seems like his devour gave him amplified energy.

"Go along, now." Flunra lowered his stance and placed a rune on his foot. "I’ll deal with this.

Miriam snapped out of her daze.

She realized she was talking to the wrong person about safety and death.

If Flunra deemed the situation couldn’t kill him, then it most likely won’t.

In the same breath that Miriam soared away, carrying the wounded Princess Selene to safety, Flunra made his move. He launched forward like a bolt unleashed. His body cut through the air, and the scent of his flesh hit the first crimson wolf like a spark to dry tinder.

Its trance shattered, and its eyes snapped wide.

Seeing the meal coming, it attacked.

It attacked.

But Flunra’s body seamlessly vanished as he entered the twilight dimension.

He slipped into the horde like a phantom threading through the living world, passing body after body without a ripple of acknowledgment. Not a single crimson wolf turned. Not one broke stride. They charged forward, helplessly drawn by the fragrance—a scent they could not resist, a trance they could not escape.

Flunra didn’t know where these things came from.

However, with the Blood Moon that feels heavier tonight, it must’ve been from there.

Millions of creatures couldn’t appear out of nothing.

These creatures hailed from the Blood Moon—and crossing into the Mortal Realm had cost them. They were forced to reshape themselves to fit a world that rejected their true forms—weaker now, diminished. And more importantly, bound.

The laws of this realm applied to them now, whether they liked it or not.

It would be hard for them to sense the twilight dimension when they hadn’t even adjusted well.

Things went smoothly.

Or at least, Flunra was undetectable until he stumbled upon a stronger crimson wolf.

A bigger crimson wolf smelled Flunra and attacked him anyway.

More came over, breaking away from the honeyed trance. Two from the left wing, and another two from the right. Four hunters now, peeled from the horde to hunt the insect that had dared slip into their ranks with unwanted intention.

But the horde was an ocean of bodies. Churning and relentless.

Cutting toward its center was a battle on its own.

Especially for those like them, who could not phase through flesh and fur like a ghost.

Couldn’t move through living things.

One of them reached for Flunra, but only managed to graze him. It didn’t take long for him to arrive near the backside of the horde. He cut his hand again, letting blood flow and seep into the earth as if he were watering a garden.

Then, he moved to the left flank. And then to the right.

Flunra did the exact same thing before returning to the sophisticated formation.

"Just like that." He pressed his finger to the core of the formation. Glowing roots surged from its upper edge, cascading down into the trench like serpents of light. They plunged straight for Princess Selene’s golden goo pooling at the very bottom.

Flunra’s lips curled faintly, "Let the chaos begin."

Sniff...

Something changed in the air.

A scent seeped into Miriam’s nose that made her frown. It was a peculiar scent, and she didn’t recognize it. No, she recognized it. But the scent was so new that it took her a few seconds to realize. Flunra’s. It was Flunra’s scent.

His scent permeated the entire area, replacing the fragrant honey scent from the golden goo.

She looked down and saw utter chaos.

Crimson wolves fought among each other, clawing and tearing like they had seen their nemesis. Things only escalated as the horde, at least those who neared the trench, stopped dead in their tracks and began attacking one another.

Miriam couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Death counts rose sharply from the horde’s side as they killed each other in a brutal manner.

And as she returned her gaze to the formation, he saw someone there.

Flunra stood at the formation’s core, smiling sinisterly as he watched thousands of years of accumulated knowledge erupt into beautiful chaos. His maw stretched open in silent, unhinged laughter. His eyes glimmered with reflected carnage as the blood of thousands of crimson wolves geysered skyward.

A haunting, crimson spectacle painted against the dark.

Miriam realized what had happened.

With the golden goo as his catalyst, Flunra’s blood scent erupted through the formation, riding the Honey Moon’s influence like a plague on the wind. It latched onto the crimson wolves, clinging to their skin, deceiving each crimson wolf with a lie.

Making them mistake others around as Flunra.

At that moment, Miriam realized something.

She realized the person down there was no longer Arnulf the Special. He was something better.

Arnulf the Special, the legend of old, could never have shaken an army of millions like this. But this one, the Arnulf of this era, Flunra... he could. Ancient runes and the nature of a royal werewolf were fused together in his hands like they were always meant to be one.

Miriam had never seen anything like it.

And she was terrified.