Bones distanced himself from the site until the dust could no longer reach him. He looked down at the object in his grasp—a faceted octagonal gem. But something told him this wasn’t a simple gemstone. Instinct or experience, perhaps.

  “This feels like some type of core…”

  Before he could finish the thought, a gelatinous substance erupted from the core, coiling around his arm. Bones instinctively tried to shake it off, but it clung to him like glue. Then, as if responding to his will, the substance stopped and receded back into the core.

  “What in the world is this?”

  Seeing no immediate harm, he mentally commanded the core as he would his golems. The substance reappeared, enveloping the arm holding the core. This time, it changed—first in texture, then in color. His skeletal arm transformed into that of a human, clad in plain beige sleeves.

  On a hunch, Bones let the substance spread further. It extended across half his body—the same side holding the core—while the other half remained unchanged. The transformed portion shifted into the human form of Deveres. He realized then—it had taken on the last image in his mind.

  “Incredible.”

  He willed the substance to retreat back into the core and stored it away. As much as he wanted to test its full capabilities, now wasn’t the time. The dust had settled, and the collapsed facility was nothing more than a buried ruin.

  “No matter,” he said. “This wasn’t a waste.”

  Beyond acquiring what he presumed to be an artifact—given the raiders’ interest in relics—he had also reached his thirty-fifth racial level, an important threshold. And with it, a new skill that arrived at the perfect time.

  The skill came as a surprise—a utility ability unlike anything Bones had acquired before. It was exactly what he needed. There were limitations and intricacies to explore, but if he had possessed this skill earlier, his fight inside would have been far easier, especially when subduing the werewolf.

  Summoning Skully, Bones pulled down the golem’s hood, revealing a bony snout riddled with cracks and fractures. Deveres had done a number on him. While the damage wouldn’t impede Skully’s movements, Bones could sense the skeleton’s overall integrity had diminished. Not just from the recent fight—Skully, despite his evasive fighting style, had sustained repeated injuries over time. Though constantly mended with bone shaping, the wear had accumulated.

  “You’ll do for now, but we’ll need to find a long-term solution,” Bones mused. With those words of encouragement, he stored the golem’s core, allowing Skully to recover undisturbed before heading in the direction of the raiding party. Less than an hour had passed since their departure—catching up wouldn’t take long.

  Following the impressions in the knee-high grass, Bones tracked them for half an hour before stumbling upon the aftermath of a battle. Just off the main path, the earth was uprooted, trees bore deep scars, and the forest floor was ravaged. Scattered among the devastation were the corpses of monstrous creatures. Among them, Bones recognized six familiar ghouls. However, two new creatures caught his attention—similar in build to the ghouls, but leaner, with elongated limbs and dark, scale-covered bodies. They had beady black eyes and maws that opened like carnivorous plants, lined with rows of razor-sharp teeth.

  Bones proceeded cautiously, looking ahead before deploying two spider constructs from his inventory. If more of these creatures lurked nearby, he wanted to spot them before they spotted him. Splitting his focus between the skittering scouts and his own vision was a strain, but necessary. The constructs detected more bodies along the way—both monsters and fallen raiders—before finally locating the remnants of the raiding party twenty minutes later.

  Several members were missing, having already moved ahead toward the main facility. The remaining fourteen stood gathered in a loose circle, but two figures stood out—level seventy Garrik and level seventy-one Varek, both direct subordinates of Black Wolf.

  “The Growlers,” Bones murmured, stroking his chin. If his experiences with the raiders were any indication, all of Black Wolf’s subordinates—and likely those of the unknown second raid leader—were werewolves. The guild name, as uninspired as it was, suited them.

  Raised voices signaled a discussion, but Bones was too far to catch their words. His spiders maintained their distance, out of direct sight, limiting his ability to read lips. However, their body language was clear—the raiders were preparing to enter the facility ahead. A three-story, square structure, the building was barely visible beneath a thick veil of vegetation. Trees and roots had forced their way through cracks, covering most of the walls in greenery. Only the corners and patches of stone remained exposed.

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  A guttural shriek shattered the tension. All eyes snapped upward as something forced its way through a narrow window on the upper floor. First came a long talon, then a grotesque maw. The creature squeezed halfway through the opening before turning its attention to the raiders below. Then its mouth split open like a sprung trap, and a mass of energy began to coalesce within its throat.

  “Take cover!” Varek’s warning came just before a beam of frozen energy erupted from the creature’s maw. A streak of frost carved through the battlefield, leaving behind a patch of ice and a bitter chill in the air. The lower-leveled raiders scrambled behind trees, while Garrik and Varek remained standing. Exchanging a brief nod, they began to transform.

  Bones moved closer, throwing caution to the wind in favor of curiosity. Like Deveres, their transformations stopped halfway. Watching intently, he pieced together a reasonable conclusion—werewolves, prone to bloodlust, struggled to contain their aggression. By halting their transformation midway, they could enhance their physical abilities while retaining full control.

  “Fascinating,” Bones murmured. Werewolves were, by all accounts, remarkable creatures. Their ability to transcend human limitations, despite the inherent drawbacks, was nothing short of extraordinary.

  The two half-transformed werewolves remained rooted in place, their eyes locked onto the vicious maw of the Phantom Prowler—the creature Varek identified through growling fangs. He shot a glance at Garrik.

  “They never hunt alone. The inside must be crawling with them,” he declared before directing Garrik to handle the one above.

  Garrik sneered, flexing his right arm. He clenched his fist twice, then, in a smooth motion, threw his arm upward before swiping it down, as if grasping something unseen and yanking it toward the ground.

  Bones frowned in confusion, but the effect was immediate—the prowler was violently pulled from the window, slamming into the earth with a sickening crunch. Its body twitched, muscles spasming as it let out painful, guttural yelps. Garrik wasted no time. He raised his arm again and then drove his claws into the creature’s maw. With a sudden, savage yank, he tore out its slithering tongue, shredding its mouth in the process. The prowler thrashed its head side to side, unable to move its body, before exhaling its final breath.

  Garrik let out a victorious howl, and Varek immediately called the others forward. Meanwhile, Bones quietly retreated, unsure whether the werewolves could detect him with their enhanced hearing or acute sense of smell—but he had no intention of finding out.

  Varek quickly assigned four men to remain outside on guard duty, then instructed one, Artus, to return and report to Deveres. With their roles set, five other raiders—besides Garrik and Varek—underwent transformation. Among them, one was part of the assigned guards, while Artus sprinted off in the direction of the first facility.

  Bones hesitated for a moment before cursing under his breath and taking off after Artus, who was already speeding past his hiding spot and out of sight. He could only assume the others had entered the facility—he wasn’t about to stick around and confirm it. Artus was faster than him, and Bones knew it wouldn’t bode well if the werewolf arrived at the ruins of the first facility before he could intercept him.

  Reluctantly, he tossed Skully’s golem core ahead, sending his trusted construct after Artus while he slowed to a stop. Without wasting time, he summoned Harmony at his side and signaled for her to follow. She gave him a look—one he had trouble deciphering.

  “What?” He muttered, but Harmony remained silent. He sighed before setting off at a steady jog, eventually catching up to the three of them already locked in combat.

  Arms crossed, Bones watched as Skully maneuvered around Artus with an almost practiced ease. The fight bore a striking resemblance to his tussle with Deveres—except this time, he was evenly matched with his opponent.

  “Oho?” Bones mouthed, pleasantly surprised by how quickly his golem had adapted to fighting ‘The Growlers.’ Skully wasted no movement, dodging Artus’ swipes and bites with precise footwork. The only issue was his weapon—the silver spear. Without its sharp tip, it was practically useless. The black steel spear he had switched to was durable enough to parry attacks, but it lacked the cutting edge needed to truly wound the werewolf.

  A stalemate. Neither side could fully overpower the other.

  Bones glanced at Harmony, who stood idly by, not even raising her bow to intervene. He considered walking over to ask what she was doing—but by now, he knew Harmony had an attitude. Instead, he reached out through their soul link, probing her thoughts. Moments later, he understood.

  “I see. They want a one-on-one fight against Artus,” He mused. “Didn’t expect that. We’re not in a rush, so I’ll let it slide this time.” He nodded approvingly and continued watching.

  Minutes passed as the two fought with relentless fervor. Their attacks grew increasingly wild, primal, and unrefined. Skully had abandoned his spear, now trading blows claw-to-claw with Artus. If Bones didn’t know any better, he would have thought his golem was testing himself.

  A powerful exchange sent both fighters skidding back. From the corner of his eye, Bones caught Harmony taking a step forward.

  In the next instant, she was beside Skully, leaving crackling traces of lightning in her wake. She halted for a split second before zipping past Artus, her movement a blur of electricity. Artus, panting heavily, was struggling to maintain control over his transformation. Saliva dripped from his mouth, his growls growing increasingly savage. With every heaving breath, his body swelled, human features shifting as his transformation continued—until at last, Artus stood fully transformed.

  Now towering over two meters tall, Artus spread his arms wide and threw his head back, unleashing a piercing howl. The sound was abruptly cut off as a silver-tipped arrow hissed through the air, embedding itself deep in his back. The projectile tore through muscle, lodging into his lung.

  Artus lurched forward, blindly swiping at the empty space behind him. Dropping to one knee, he reached back, his claws finding the arrow shaft. With a strained whimper, he ripped it free, trusting his regeneration to stop the bleeding. His head whipped left and right, his bloodshot eyes scanning for his unseen assailant.

  Skully retreated, now standing beside Bones with his head slumped and fists clenched. Bones hesitated, unsure if he should offer words of reassurance. Instead, he opted for practicality—storing Skully in his inventory to allow the golem time to recover.

  Meanwhile, Harmony toyed with Artus. Having studied his movements during the fight with Skully, she anticipated his attacks, weaving around them effortlessly. Relying on her high-consumption movement skill, she blinked from spot to spot in rapid bursts, draining her soul capacity at an alarming rate and always staying just outside his reach. Well-placed arrows struck key points, further eroding Artus’s combat efficiency.

  Losing control, Artus thrashed and charged recklessly, his bloodlust overriding all sense of strategy.

  “Teeth… bite… rip… throat…” Artus panted between growls.

  Bones, unimpressed, called out, “You’ve had enough fun—it’s time to finish him.”