Chapter 67: Stronger Than Me?

Knowing evasion was impossible, Glen's arms fully transformed, swelling with lupine muscle and sinew. He executed a barehanded blade catch.

The descending colossus of black steel was trapped between his two massive wolf claws. The sheer force transmitted through the blade shocked Glen. The strength in his arms now could overpower even a Tier 4 Knight – feeling genuine strain meant this magic was formidable.

The thick, dripping black ooze coating the broken sword possessed terrifying corrosive properties. Glen could already feel a burning pain searing into his claws. Yet, this potent magical construct lasted barely a second after Glen caught it before dissipating into nothingness. Its duration was clearly fleeting, vanishing after delivering a single blow.

Black Sword's eyes bulged, disbelief warping his features as he witnessed the impossible. But realization dawned swiftly – he'd kicked an iron plate. Instantly, he began chanting his wind-riding incantation, intent on escape.

Glen gave him no chance. The instant the giant sword vanished, he launched himself forward like a crossbow bolt. Black Sword's chant wasn't halfway done when Glen was upon him!

"Darling, save me!"

The jet-black, grotesque bird of prey shot towards the charging Glen like a living shadow. Mid-flight, it ballooned in size, swelling to the proportions of a griffon. Its maw gaped wide open directly in Glen's path.

"What the–?"

Glen was already airborne, committed to his trajectory, with no leverage to dodge. He slid smoothly, unavoidably, straight into the cavernous beak.

A trip straight to the stomach.

The monstrous beak snapped shut. Instantly shrinking back to its original size, the bird fluttered back onto Black Sword's chest.

The old gentleman drew breath, a smug compliment forming on his lips, when the black bird suddenly spasmed violently. An arm, thick with muscle and covered in coarse black fur, erupted outwards from the creature's chest and abdomen... and plunged directly into Black Sword's own chest!

The arm emerged from the bird's body gradually enlarging. What punched clean through Black Sword's back was a fully formed, normal-sized wolf's claw.

Blood gushed from Black Sword's mouth. His eyes held only stark disbelief and a desperate, fleeting hunger for life. Then, strength fled him, and he crumpled lifeless to the forest floor.

Glen tore through the beast's flesh and stepped out, instantly reverting to normal size. Wanted to avoid changing clothes this time… He thought ruefully, shaking blood and foul gastric fluids from his arms and torso.

Witnessing their strongest member meet such a gruesome end, Snoke and the three remaining mercenaries were paralyzed by terror.

"I understand! We shouldn't have come after you, friend! This is all a misunderstanding!" Snoke's voice was a desperate rasp, his anger from moments ago utterly gone, replaced by abject surrender. "What do you want? Name it! I'll do my utmost! Frankly, I've long despised those fools in the Pank family myself! Just let us leave! We swear we'll renounce the Panks, vanish from your sight forever!"

The other three mercenaries were quick studies in groveling. They chorused similar promises and extravagant offers, their voices trembling.

Glen said nothing. He simply began walking towards them, step by deliberate step.

Snoke pleaded and bargained, pouring out words. Seeing Glen remain utterly impassive, a spark of vicious resolve ignited in his eyes. He shot a sharp glance at his companions. They understood instantly.

Just as Glen reached them, Snoke hurled a strangely shaped orb onto the ground.

Thump!

A dull concussion sounded. Thick, choking black smoke billowed outwards, instantly engulfing a wide area and obscuring all vision.

Glen halted.

A split second later, a dagger humming with malignant magic sliced through the smoke, aimed with lethal precision at Glen's throat.

Glen's hand snapped out like a viper. He casually slapped the dagger aside. Then, his hand shot into the swirling smoke, grasped, and hauled.

A mercenary, mouth covered by a cloth, was dragged choking into the open. He struggled wildly, trying to bring a hidden blade to bear. Glen's free fist, moving faster than thought, smashed his skull like an overripe melon.

The smoke began to thin. The remaining three chose that moment to strike simultaneously, lunging from different angles!

Glen stepped forward. His right hand seized the weapon of the man in front of him. Using the man as a bludgeon, Glen swung him hard into the attacker coming from his left side. The impact sent both staggering. Leveraging the momentum, Glen pivoted, his leg lashing out in a devastating side kick!

CRUNCH!

Two bodies hurtled backwards. The man Glen still held by the weapon? Glen's other hand clamped around his neck. A sickening snap echoed in the sudden silence.

The two sent flying were Snoke and a mercenary wielding curved blades. They scrambled to their feet, pure flight instinct taking over. It was pointless. Glen closed the distance effortlessly. One swipe of his claw per target. It was over.

The night's attackers were extinct.

Glen methodically searched each body, stripping them of anything remotely valuable. The dark mage's corpse yielded an assortment of strange, arcane trinkets. Glen knew they held power or knowledge, so he took them all.

His only regret: finding no spatial storage ring. Does this world not have them? Or did this mage just not carry one?

Glen walked over to Night Howl, who lay panting heavily, a long tongue lolling. It radiated profound weakness.

Glen examined its wounds carefully. Though healing was agonizingly slow, they didn't seem immediately fatal. He felt a flicker of relief.

"You're kinda weak…" he murmured, a frown creasing his brow.

Night Howl whimpered softly, conveying helplessness.

Glen crouched. Without ceremony, he inserted a finger into one of the deeper, unhealed wounds. He held it there for a long moment before withdrawing.

"As I thought… impossible…" he muttered. The wolf toxin inside Night Howl doesn't answer to me. Trying to forcibly alter it would probably kill it… Glen pinched his chin, deep in thought.

Finding no immediate solution to strengthen his aberrant companion, Glen reluctantly shelved the idea. "Rest here for now. Heal," he instructed Night Howl. "When I find a way to make you stronger, I will. Don't worry. Oh, and handle the corpses."

With that, Glen left the clearing.

He noted with approval that Night Howl had led the fight deliberately away from the pig pens. No damage there. Good. I won't forget that. When benefits for Night Howl come, it'll get its share.

...

The night passed.

Dawn arrived. Glen was awakened by a persistent knocking.

He swung his legs out of bed and opened the door. Tia stood on the other side.

"Mr. Glen, Lord Laval and the… the elf lady sent me. They're waiting for your instructions and asked me to wake you. I'm truly sorry to disturb your rest."

Glen rubbed his sleep-mussed hair. "Right. Tell them I'll be down shortly."

The maid bowed and retreated down the stairs.

Closing the door, Glen ran a hand over his face and through his hair. The wolf toxin granted effortless control over his body's hair growth – beard and head hair were never a concern. His current length, however, was prone to tangling while he slept. He concentrated briefly. The hair on his head visibly shortened, settling just slightly longer than a military buzz cut.

"No mirror," he murmured to himself. "Hope this suits me?"

Splashing water on his face, he headed downstairs.

Laval was dressed in simple, commoner's clothes, looking far less conspicuous. He sat slouched in a chair, gazing idly at the ceiling. Gotaya leaned against the door frame, staring intently out at the morning.

"Apologies for the wait, my employees," Glen announced, his voice cutting through the quiet. Both heads snapped towards him. "Follow me. Time to get you settled into your jobs."

"Employees?" Gotaya's brow furrowed. Something about the word felt distinctly unfavorable towards her.

Laval seemed less bothered, projecting an air of weary acceptance.

First, Glen led them to the pig pens. To the elven warrior, he delivered the same blunt introduction he'd given Laval.

Gotaya had already wrinkled her nose in disgust at the sight and smell of the pens. Hearing Glen's assignment pushed her over the edge. She practically jumped.

"You… you expect me, a warrior of the Great Forest, to do this?"

"What about being a great forest warrior?" Glen shrugged, utterly unfazed. "Warriors can't raise livestock? Besides, I'm stronger than you, and I do it."

"Stronger than me?" The elf's expression was pure, incredulous scorn. "Don't think taking down a few hired muscle makes you special! If I hadn't been restrained, those scum wouldn't have stood a chance!"

"Yet here you are," Glen retorted, his face etched with an expression of pure, unadulterated 'are you really this stupid?' "Captured."