My Players Are So Fierce

Chapter 2562 -855: Storms Gathering · The Master of Hunting’s Yuling

“Huggesen… Huggesen!”

In the Military Governor’s tent within the Shadow Valley, God’s Chosen of The Master of Hunting once again heard that low and ethereal call in their sleep, as if a ship sailing on a dim sea where everything in sight was dark, except for a thread of light before it guiding it ever closer to the shore of faith.

Huggesen awoke in the dream.

It opened its eyes to see a world painted in blood, pathways and stairs strewn with corpses stretched beneath its feet, leading directly to the skeletal throne ahead.

How many times has it faced such a scene?

The Divine General couldn’t help but ask itself.

In recent times, this vision of faith has been constantly eroding it, deepening the gnawing and pulling at Huggesen’s mind, as if calling it to merge into this blood-soaked world of slaughter.

If it were another Wolf Person here, they would’ve long bowed in worship to the blood-colored Giant Spirit seated on the skeletal throne, but Huggesen was different.

Lord Felix told it, as a Blood Descendant of the King of Bone Biting, it possessed a more steadfast subspace resistance than other Wolf People. Even recently, Huggesen could think and carry out its plans and actions without interference, but now, even that natural resistance was being eroded.

The increasingly frequent dreams of faith were proof.

The Master of Hunting was urging His chosen one to act quickly; as a god not yet awakened, this was His maximum extent of interference in the material world.

He too had his faults; at this stage, He couldn’t directly control His ambivalent chosen ones to become butchers of the world yet.

Nonetheless, the power of The Master of Hunting was growing rapidly.

This was something Huggesen felt very clearly, and it suspected this was related to the changes on the Western front. He was about to awaken; at the current rate of power increase, the remaining time wouldn’t exceed a month and a half!

Huggesen knew it too had to act.

Though it had purged those Hunting Priests in its army who were completely enthralled by faith, with Field Marshall Hass’s help, it had maximized control over its forces. Yet once The Master of Hunting’s awakening reached a certain point, Huggesen’s mental resistance would ultimately collapse, and it would plunge into that eternal bloody hunt.

In the dream, it stood up, feeling the urgency that made it extend its claws as usual, attempting to tear apart this dream of blood, but today’s situation seemed different.

No matter how Huggesen expressed resistance, the dream stubbornly stood its ground, and the calling voice grew more frequent. At the end of the skull path ahead, the throne shimmered with lights beckoning it to step inside.

The Master of Hunting had something to show it.

It couldn’t leave before seeing it.

The Grand Marshal gritted its teeth, stepping onto the skull-paved path ahead without much fear.

Step by step, it climbed up, each time hearing the wailing from the skulls beneath its feet — perhaps it’s the Master’s favorite sound, but to Huggesen, these sounds were just noisy.

As Military Governor, as a descendant of the King of Bone Biting, it didn’t enjoy slaughter but pursued victory; slaughter that doesn’t aid victory couldn’t entertain Huggesen. Regrettably, its god seemed to prefer exhibiting brutality over pursuing victory.

What meaning does this have?

Huggesen sighed in its heart.

It knew it couldn’t change the Master’s symbol and visage; this entity accompanied the Wolf People’s civilization from the beginning of the Age of Chaos, extending into the present as a convergence of savage traditions. It was a collective belief forged by countless thoughts and desires of Wolf People.

As ugly as The Master of Hunting was, the past Wolf People were just as mad.

Though it didn’t know where the Wise Wolf intended to lead the future of the Wolf People, the current group symbol certainly wasn’t one a normal civilization should have.

Huggesen climbed the steps upward and quickly arrived in front of the skull throne. From below, the blood-colored world revealed the Master’s blood-colored visage seated atop the throne, yet upon arriving, one saw only the empty throne.

After all, it hasn’t yet been born.

But on that throne, a shimmering light awaited Huggesen’s touch and inspection.

It reached out its claw to touch the glowing orb, and in an instant, its consciousness seemed tossed into the sky, viewing a blackened earth from high above, where tens of thousands of Wolf People rode Throne Wolves forward, transforming into a murky torrent flooding towards the gaping mountain pass.

Farther away, fires already blazed across villages and small cities on the Ligurian Peninsula, with black smoke rising straight to the clouds.

Countless Hyena Wolfman Warriors roared, cheered, and slaughtered, leaving innumerable corpses in the scorched cities, with orphaned children weeping in the smoke.

Huggesen saw a towering Wolf Person, almost carved from the same mold as itself, strolling atop a Throne Wolf through the burning land, gazing contentedly and savagely at all unfolding before it, while behind it, countless Wolf People charged more frenziedly into the territory that had been peaceful for a thousand years.

That was Gehrman·Bonebite!

Huggesen once glimpsed it from afar.

Though both were Blood Descendants of the King of Bone Biting, Gehrman was like Huggesen’s other side; it was more like a traditional Wolf Person — wild, strong, and combative. It too inherited some things from the King of Bone Biting: power, ambition, and dominance.