The lumberjack.

Marcus had a bad feeling about the situation. The sawmill ahead of him was deathly silent. If he could, he would avoid confronting the Petrovs head-on, but the ability to deceive or ambush them was beyond his reach. They would detect him from at least three miles away, thanks to their sharp sense of smell.

The sawmill was old and large, a sturdy building of wood worn down by time. The surrounding forest had been completely cleared, as all the nearby trees had already been cut down. A river ran along the right side of the building, where chopped logs floated downstream from the mountains above.

The sound of flowing water was strangely soothing, but the fact that it was the only noise Marcus could hear, even with his abnormally sensitive hearing, made everything even more unsettling.

Marcus didn't want to fight, let alone kill the werewolves. But if he didn't, he'd be the one ending up in a ditch.

"I AM BALTAZAR, SERVANT OF COUNTESS ISABELLA. I KNOW YOU'RE THERE! SHOW YOURSELVES AND DON'T WASTE MY TIME!"

He roared at the top of his lungs. Werewolves were proud creatures; when challenged, they didn't stay quiet. If his enemies were easily angered, the best tactic was to provoke them.

A muffled sound echoed as the sawmill doors slowly creaked open. The interior was too dark for Marcus to see clearly, but he managed to make out a figure crossing the threshold. It was a large man with a thick, reddish-brown beard covering most of his face. His hair, nearly shaved, was the same color.

He wore a green-and-black checkered flannel shirt paired with dark blue work jeans. In his hands, he held an enormous lumberjack's axe, so massive it seemed heavy even for a man of his stature.

The stranger stopped, glaring at Marcus with hostility. His voice was loud and coarse as he spoke:

"My name is Dimitri Petrov, and you're trespassing on my property, bat boy."

Marcus sighed. He'd been insulted in so many ways by Albert in the past few days that Dimitri's taunt almost sounded like a compliment.

"I don't care about your name, Petrov. You owe the Countess a debt, and I've come to collect."

Dimitri let out a loud laugh that echoed through the surrounding trees. After laughing for a few seconds, his expression hardened into seriousness.

"If you're talking about what happened last week, we're sorry. You know, it's hard to keep all the guys under control. The boss already knew you'd show up, you know? And he told me to send your lady a message when you did."

Marcus frowned. There was something about Dimitri's words that deeply unsettled him.

"And what would that message be?"

Dimitri didn't answer. Instead, he reached behind his back, pulling out something in a quick motion. In the blink of an eye, he hurled a small axe at Marcus with impressive speed.

By reflex, Marcus drew his short sword from his waist and managed to deflect the projectile. The clash of blades produced sparks and a muffled clang. Sensing the imminent danger, he leapt back with agile precision.

When he focused his vision, he saw Dimitri pulling the massive axe that had been embedded in the ground, precisely where Marcus had stood moments before. Dimitri's eyes glowed a menacing green, and a sadistic grin curved his lips.

"Son of a bitch!" Marcus roared, furious at the surprise attack.

With his shout, shadows began to emerge from the forest behind him. Over fifty ghouls, pale-skinned creatures with glowing yellow eyes, stared at Dimitri with mortal hatred.

Dimitri looked at the creatures and gave a mocking smile.

"Well, look at that, boys. Seems like I'm popular. They're eating me up with their eyes. I knew I was handsome, but not this much."

Dimitri's words elicited laughter from the darkness of the sawmill. Just as he had minutes earlier, new figures began to step out one by one. However, they weren't human. They were monstrous humanoid wolves, each standing at least eight feet tall.

Their reddish-brown fur glistened under the light, and their green eyes emitted a supernatural glow. Some wielded axes as massive as Dimitri's.

Marcus muttered a low curse. There were at least fifteen werewolves there. Although the ghouls outnumbered them, the wolves were much stronger. Additionally, Dimitri was an extra problem. A werewolf without an alpha was a wild beast, but with a leader, they became disciplined and organized, which made everything even more dangerous.

Without hesitation, Marcus reached for his shoulder, releasing the strap of the massive sword sheath he carried on his back. In a swift motion, he swung the weapon so the sheath flew off, revealing a menacing black blade.

The ghouls behind Marcus began to charge madly, while Dimitri's werewolves responded with equal fury.

Marcus launched himself at Dimitri with surprising speed, swinging the sword with all his might. Dimitri raised his axe to block the blow but was shocked by the impact.

Crack!

The sound of the axe splitting and shattering into pieces was all Dimitri heard before being flung ten meters back, crashing through the sawmill wall and disappearing into the shadows.

For a moment, the battlefield fell silent. The werewolves stopped, staring at the hole in the wall. Then, slowly, they turned their gazes toward Marcus.

Marcus stood still, holding the massive sword with both hands. His heavy breathing and focused eyes were the only movements in that instant. And once again, the werewolves charged at him, now blinded by rage.

Marcus swung his sword in a heavy diagonal strike that hit the nearest werewolf, pinning it to the ground with such force that it raised a thick cloud of dust. The cloud quickly spread in all directions, obscuring everyone's vision.

The werewolves stopped, hesitating for a moment as they tried to locate Marcus amidst the dense cloud. However, all they could see was an indistinct mass of white and gray shadows emerging from the dust. It was the ghouls, who launched themselves at them with brutal savagery.

A chaotic battle unfolded. The ghouls were torn apart by the massive axes while desperately biting and clawing at the werewolves. Each blow and scream added more tension to the blood-and-dust-saturated atmosphere.

About seven meters away, Marcus observed the scene over his shoulder. He shook his head in disapproval at the massacre unfolding behind him. For a few seconds, he kept his eyes fixed on the carnage but soon turned his attention to the large hole in the sawmill wall caused by Dimitri's body crashing through it.

Deep, menacing growls echoed from within the sawmill, and once again, a gigantic shadow emerged from the darkness. When the figure fully came into view, Marcus was taken aback by what he saw.

Dimitri's transformed appearance was terrifying. He now stood over three meters tall, towering even above the other werewolves. His reddish-brown fur was dense but patchy in some areas, where poorly healed claw scars spread like webs.

Dimitri was covered in blood, and his eyes glowed with a menacing red hue. His teeth were long and sharp like knives, and his claws seemed capable of slicing through steel like butter.

For the first time since his vision of Isabella, Marcus felt the weight of fear. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword as he tried to steady his breathing. The battle was far from over, but something told him that Dimitri would be the greatest challenge of his life.