The Werewolf Trials

Just then, a cold, mechanical voice that seemed to echo directly in my soul began to broadcast:

【Initial trial candidates: 100; current survivors: 70.】

Thirty candidates were dead just from choosing a cave.

I felt around and discovered a rough crystal fragment had appeared on my person, with faint dots of light flickering on its surface.

I brought it close to my eyes to make out the information.

It was a way for the trial candidates to communicate.

The messages were chaotic, filled with fear.

The man who had been initially furious and roaring had gotten into a fight with several other werewolves over a decent-looking cave on the third level. He had barely won and swaggered into his chosen cave.

Then, a terrifying roar echoed out, followed by the sounds of bones cracking and being devoured.

A half-man, half-wolf creature with giant, burning,crazy flames in its eyes appeared at the cave entrance, licking blood and flesh from its muzzle.

A Gamma warrior, the moment he stepped into a cave on the tenth level, seemed to see something absolutely terrifying. His Lunar Fear instantly shot to 100, and he collapsed, his body melting and dissipating under the blood moon's glow.

The other deaths were just as varied. Some were killed by silver traps, some were torn apart by the feral wolves in the caves, and others were driven mad by an intangible fear.

As I read these messages, I felt strangely calm.

Perhaps my sensory impairment protected me, keeping me from understanding those terrifying symbols.

I stood up and, while Lia slept, began to explore the cave. It was a mess. The ground was littered with things that hurt my feet (I later learned these were bones), and the stone walls were stained with dark, dried filth.

I found some tough vines and made a simple broom, starting the laborious task of cleaning. I swept all the small, uncomfortable things into a corner and covered them with dirt.

The stains on the stone walls wouldn't come off, so I found some damp moss to try and cover them.

I don't know how long I was busy—perhaps it was afternoon (though the blood moon's glow remained unchanged). I grew tired and collapsed onto the pile of dry grass next to Lia, falling into a deep sleep.

I don't know how long I was out, but the cold woke me up.

It wasn't just a chilly breeze; it was a bone-deep, cadaverous freeze that felt like my blood was turning to ice.

The crimson moonlight that had filled the cave was gone, swallowed by a thick, suffocating darkness. The air was heavy with a scent that was ancient, rotting, and sickly sweet—like cracking open a vampire's tomb that had been sealed for a millennium.

Something terrifying had arrived.

A tall silhouette blocked the entrance.

"Who are you?"

The voice rang out.

But it didn't come from where his head should be. It came from his left hand, hanging by his side.

He was holding a dripping, severed head.

The voice was deep, raspy, sounding like it crawled out of the deepest pit of hell.

He chuckled. The sound was like sandpaper grating against my eardrums.

"Interesting."

The mouth on the severed head in his hand moved. Its dark golden, slit pupils glowed with an eerie light in the dark.

"You're the first to survive that little psycho."

Immediately after, Lia's cold voice came from the corner, sharp with the tone of a young wolf, "Don't touch her. This mommy's mine. I'm keeping her to play with later."

The towering, headless body didn't even flinch.

With just an invisible blast of psychic energy, Lia was tossed aside like a rag doll.

Thud!

She slammed into the rock wall.

The sickening crunch of bones snapping echoed through the deathly silent cave.

Lia coughed up a mouthful of blood, curling into a ball in the corner, shaking uncontrollably. It was absolute bloodline suppression.

"Know your place, mongrel," the head spoke coldly, his tone dripping with undeniable cruelty. "Who gave you permission to eye my prey?"

At that moment, every single observer held their breath.

That was the legendary "Executioner," the vampire-werewolf hybrid tyrant! He was known to tear every intruder to shreds before elegantly feasting on their entrails.

I couldn't stand it. I scrambled up from the hay. "How could you do that to a child!" I said as I rushed toward the tall figure, "What kind of father does that!"

I meant to push him, but tripped over a bone and my hands flailed out, accidentally pressing against something firm and textured—it seemed to be his abdomen.

The feeling was surprisingly nice, so I instinctively gave it a couple more pats.

The violent, bloody aura surrounding the man instantly stagnated.

I quickly backtracked:"Lia's my little treasure, and you're my big treasure. We're a family!"

I paused, then added, "I'm Serina. I'm here to join the family. Seriously, dear, you've kept in great shape. Though you seem a bit... on the short side? Don't worry, I'll cook for you both every day, and I'll make sure you grow tall and strong!"

Those watching the trial began to stir again:

【She's lost her mind! Is she actually hitting on the Executioner?!】

【So this is her, the legend! He has to be the strongest being in the Blood Moon Trial, right? Even Silver-maned Kaelan died by his hand.】

【She called monster like that short? OMG, that's because he's holding his own head!】

【Wait, are the vampire-werewolf's ears turning red? Is he blushing...】

【Why did this vampire-werewolf let this trial candidate keep touching his stomach! Isn't that the most vulnerable part for werewolves?】

Everyone watching the trial in this cave was waiting for me to be torn to shreds.

According to past records, that was the fate of all who dared offend this being.

But in the next second, the man did something no one expected.

He raised a hand and pressed what looked like a round object he'd been holding back onto his neck. With a soft click, it settled into place.

He leaned toward me, the previously untouchable image completely gone, his voice even carrying a hint of unbelievable hurt:

"Short? I'm six-foot-five! Want to take a better look?"

Even legendary terrifying beings, it seemed, cared about their height when it came to men.

"Serina," he suddenly said my name, a voice so beautiful it made my heart skip a beat, "I suggest you look closely."

I grabbed the front of his leather jerkin, pulling him closer to me, while deliberately whispering in a sweet voice, "I can't see clearly. A little closer."

Facing the now-clearly visible handsome face before me, I silently rejoiced that thankfully this damn trial only monitored Lunar Fear, not heart rate. Otherwise, I'd be doomed.

Seeing the man silent as he stared at me, worried he was actually angry, I immediately switched to an admiring gaze and nodded vigorously, "Wow! Six-foot-five to my five-ten—what a perfect height difference for kissing! We really are a match made in heaven!"