Chapter 32: Do You Really Think I’m a Child?

"Don't get cocky! I just let my guard down!" The Captain's handsome face was etched with defiance.

"Again!" she shouted, stomped the ground, and charged Glen once more!

This time, pale golden wings shimmered into existence behind the Captain's back. Her knight's sword also underwent a subtle transformation, seeming to lengthen slightly.

Glen could clearly sense his opponent's significant increase in speed. He lowered his center of gravity, ready to receive her attack.

The knight's sword thrust forward violently, instantly surrounded by a dozen spectral replicas that filled every possible avenue of evasion!

She can do that?! Glen's eyes widened slightly. His leg muscles tensed, and he launched himself five or six meters straight up, vaulting clear over the deadly zone of her attack.

Grabbing a tree's crown, he used his legs to push off the trunk, propelling himself like a missile towards the Captain's back!

The knight, already retracting her attack the moment she saw him evade, sensed the gust of wind behind her and unleashed another knightly skill!

A massive, translucent shield materialized from nothingness, slamming down just behind the Captain, barely intercepting Glen's descending blow.

Landing lightly, Glen stared at his glowing, special-effects-laden opponent, his expression turning slightly exasperated. "Lady Knight, this is getting boring. I'm using a stick. If you've got the skill, beat me with your swordplay alone. What's the point of fighting like this?"

The blow he'd just delivered held minimal force; otherwise, the stick would have shattered instantly. He'd wanted to gauge the level of knightly swordsmanship in this world, not contend with a dazzling array of flashy skills that robbed the duel of its pure, martial essence.

"Fine." Glen's words were thrown out casually, but to his surprise, the Captain actually dismissed the glowing wings and shield.

Glen blinked, then a surge of excitement replaced his annoyance.

"Captain!" the other two knights cried out again from their position.

"Don't worry. I know what I'm doing," the Captain murmured reassuringly.

With a sharp battle cry, the two combatants clashed once more.

The valiant Captain poured everything she had mastered throughout her knightly training into her assault. A dazzling array of sophisticated sword techniques flowed effortlessly from her, unleashed relentlessly upon her adversary.

Yet, Glen, armed only with his wooden staff, met each strike with precise parries and deflections. He weaved and dodged, his movements economical and fluid, always ensuring the staff itself was never positioned to be cleanly severed by her blade. He seemed utterly composed, almost relaxed.

He'd already formed a solid assessment of her swordsmanship. In his previous world, she would undoubtedly rank among the elite, a top-tier master capable of competing on the global stage.

But she faced Glen. Hailed by his clan and the wider martial world as a once-in-a-century prodigy. By sixteen, he had mastered every fist form, saber technique, staff method, and more within his family's extensive repertoire. Years of intense military training after that had honed him to a peak whose true height even he hadn't fully grasped before his transmigration.

This body, however, lacked the ingrained muscle memory. Every nuanced movement, every subtle shift in weight, relied solely on conscious recall and the enhanced coordination granted by his werewolf physiology. His current level was inevitably lower than before.

Hundreds of exchanges later, the Captain's body bore the light, stinging taps of the staff almost everywhere. Yet, she hadn't managed to touch a single hair on Glen's pelt. This frustrating reality stoked a fire of anger within the proud high-ponytailed knight.

Smack!

Another crisp, sharp sound echoed as the staff connected squarely with her backside. The Captain suddenly hurled her knight's sword onto the ground with a clatter, letting out a furious shout: "Damn it!"

The outburst startled both Glen and her two subordinates.

Should I not have hit her there? Glen couldn't help but wonder internally.

The Captain stood, her chest heaving, teeth audibly grinding. She fixed Glen with a glare that could melt steel.

"Uh… actually…" Glen started, intending to offer some complimenting words – perhaps 'you're actually very skilled, I'm just stronger' – but she spoke first.

"I will defeat you…" she declared, her voice low and intense. She bent down, snatched her sword from the ground, and strode back to her companions. A sharp whistle pierced the air, and the griffin descended in a whirlwind of dust and leaves. "We're leaving."

"But the werewolf…"

"Leave him. This one… hasn't harmed humans."

The two subordinate knights exchanged bewildered glances, utterly perplexed by their Captain's pronouncement.

They couldn't know what she had felt during the duel. Her knightly heart – that deep, instinctive sense honed by oath and training – had whispered to her. It told her the creature before her radiated no savage bloodlust. Instead, there was a strange, almost magnetic pull towards its core. Recalling his earlier denial of consuming humans, a sliver of belief took root.

Furthermore, she knew, with chilling certainty, that the werewolf had held back significantly. If he had truly unleashed his power, escaping him, let alone defeating him, would have been highly unlikely for the three of them. The absence of killing intent radiating from him was reason enough for her, as Captain, to order the retreat.

Glen watched silently as the massive griffin climbed into the sky, unsure of what to say. Asking them to stay? Hardly appropriate after swatting their leader's backside.

As he stood there, lost in thought, the Captain's voice rang out clearly from above:

"Remember this, Mister Werewolf! I am Windsor Boyd, Captain of the Seventh Division of the Griffin Knights! When I find you again, I will defeat you with my own hands!"

I look forward to it immensely… Glen smiled faintly to himself. Getting his bearings, he too turned and melted into the forest.

An ordinary peasant dwelling.

The Old Man sat beside a chicken coop, idly gnawing on a crust of bread he'd procured from somewhere. He took a bite every now and then.

Nearby, a few peasants conversed in low tones, casting wary glances his way every so often.

The Old Man paid their suspicious looks no mind, lost in his own thoughts.

A small pebble flew from the bushes, striking him squarely on the knee. His eyes snapped back into focus, and he turned towards the source.

About ten meters away, amidst the thick shrubbery, two faintly glowing points gleamed in the shadows.

The Old Man seemed to relax visibly. He stood up immediately, grabbed his pack, and walked towards the bushes.

"Old Man, get me some clothes first."

Hearing Glen's urgent whisper as he approached, the Old Man paused mid-stride. His face remained impassive as he turned around and walked over to the group of peasants. After a brief, murmured exchange, one of the peasants, with trembling hands, accepted a few copper coins. He darted back into a nearby hut and quickly returned, handing the Old Man a set of simple, rough-spun clothes…

Only after Glen had changed into the peasant garb did the Old Man speak. "Did you kill the Griffin Knights?"

"My bloodlust isn't that heavy," Glen retorted, rolling his eyes. "It was three… impressively built female knights. They realized they were outmatched and withdrew."

"The Griffin Knights are almost exclusively female," the Old Man nodded dismissively.

"Why?" Glen asked, curious.

"Women generally have better coordination. And they weigh less," the Old Man explained succinctly.

Glen nodded in understanding. The Old Man then added, "Head back on your own. I have other business to attend to."

"Fine. Settle the payment," Glen replied, uninterested in the Old Man's errands, focused solely on his reward.

The Old Man was prepared. He tossed Glen a small, heavy pouch.

Glen didn't even bother opening it to count the contents before stuffing it into his pocket. They were neighbors; the Old Man wouldn't dare, nor need, to cheat him.

"Do you know the way back? Need me to point it out?"

Glen stopped walking and turned to look at the Old Man, a dry expression on his face. "Do you really think I'm a child?"