Our Family Has Fallen

She approached and extended her hand. The emerald thorns reached toward the Werewolf, wrapping around its neck. The spikes penetrated the wounds Lance had inflicted, sucking away at the Werewolf’s Life Force. No matter how much it struggled, the roots only tightened.

She intended to kill it slowly, letting it feel the passage of life, the despair of death closing in…

Grendel’s expression beneath the mask was one of intoxication, lost in the ecstasy of revenge.

Lance did not move or speak. He just quietly watched.

He knew Grendel harbored a deep grudge against the Warwolf, and he had promised to help her avenge it.

But nothing could be more satisfying than avenging oneself by personally killing one’s enemy.

The Werewolf, controlled entirely, was like a prisoner on the gallows, inching closer to death as the noose tightened.

It didn’t die instantaneously only because Grendel was deliberately torturing it.

Lance had heard from Boudica and the other Barbarian Tribes about a practice within the Fang Tribe called Wolf Devouring. They would hang captured prey alive for the wolves to train their leaping and biting skills, and this prey included humans as well.

Sometimes Lance wondered if they, who liked to hang people for their wolves to play with, ever thought that they too might one day be hanged.

Lance slowly shook his head to dispel these strange thoughts and instead reached out to stroke the hilt of his giant sword.

In fact, after initially donning knight armor to eradicate bandits, he had quickly discarded it. As his power grew beyond that of ordinary people, ordinary weapons and armor failed to enhance his strength.

Armor would only restrict him, preventing him from utilizing his superior reaction speed.

Some lesser quality light weapons might even shatter, unable to withstand his strength.

However, the enemies he had encountered before were not particularly strong. A few were somewhat challenging, but for the most part, they were manageable. He could easily draw the ”Giant Slayer” and hack them to death.

But the strength displayed by the Warwolf that day had reignited his interest in weapons and armor.

Ordinary gear could no longer keep up with his strength and had become a hindrance. He needed to acquire some Extraordinary Equipment.

But equipment that suited his power would be difficult to find...

Just as Lance was lost in thought, he suddenly sensed an inexplicable anomaly, filling him with unease.

Yet looking around, the Werewolf was as motionless as a dead dog, unable to break free. So what was the source of his disquiet?

Lance had no faith in those obscure prophecies and divinations, but he was confident in his own inspiration.

At first, it was just a weak sensation, but gradually Lance felt that something was amiss. His gaze inevitably fell on the fallen bodies around him.

He remembered the scene where the power lingering over the dead pack leader’s body had still resisted the Collector. Could the power of the Wolf God, hidden within these Barbarian warriors, be awakening due to the Werewolf’s near-death state...?

Without time for further reaction, a new crisis unfolded.

No!

Lance abruptly looked up at the sky, then, as if drawn by something, his gaze shifted back to the motionless Werewolf.

In his eyes, he saw power flowing from the Void, converging and pouring into the Werewolf. Wrapped by the roots, the Werewolf’s body suddenly sprouted an odd vitality, growing ever stronger.

This power...

Lance’s complexion turned ugly in an instant.

God damn Old Ancestor! It’s you again, you old bastard! I will kill you, damn your teeth!!!

As the power grew more formidable, Grendel, still reveling in her revenge, was jolted awake. She too sensed the supposedly weakening Life Force of the Werewolf beginning to revive.

Initially thinking a Curse had been triggered, she instinctively retracted the thorns to her wrist.

She then grasped her Magic Wand tightly with both hands, fully driving the roots in an attempt to kill the Werewolf quickly and avoid further trouble, while involuntarily seeking Lance’s help.

”What exactly is going on?”

”I’m afraid it’s now the Champion of two gods,” Lance replied grimly, an indescribable expression in his eyes.

Lance’s foul mood wasn’t solely due to the aberration. It was his Old Ancestor’s meddling in the battle that was distressing him.

Ever since I became Hamlet, I’ve continuously struck at the Sect of Ascension, steadily eroding their power while suppressing strife and death. I’ve made sure to Sacrifice any death and Flesh to avoid leaving anything for that old man.

This was why I wasn’t in a hurry to counterattack the Old Ancestor. If I first yanked out the old man’s oxygen tube and then devoured his Nutritious Meal, wouldn’t the old man have to wait for my say-so to start the feast?

But now, with a direct divine descent, where did the old man get this power?

If the Old Ancestor was so powerful, having a technique to descend through blood and Flesh, he wouldn’t be fleeing from my pursuit, unable to snatch even the offerings.

There must have been some issue I’m unaware of, leading to the Old Ancestor’s increased power...

”Ah! The Champion of two gods?”

Grendel couldn’t help but exclaim upon hearing this, but just as she began to speak, she didn’t continue. However, she understood what Lance meant.

There were no other gods here. The second god could only be the Evil God that Lance had been opposing.

But suddenly, a commotion transmitted from the roots encasing the Werewolf, and Grendel’s face turned deathly pale as she cried out.

”I can’t hold on much longer!”

”Hold on? My ass! Run!” Lance couldn’t care less about anything else. He rushed over, grabbed Grendel by the waist, and bolted in the opposite direction.