The werewolf army had been crushed, and its leader, Lobo, defeated. Though the hunters had won, the victory felt hollow. As the chaos subsided, a shocking discovery emerged: the majority of the werewolves, now reverted to their human forms, were revealed to be royal guards and civilians. Many had been cursed, forced into werewolf form by dark magic beyond their control. This revelation made the aftermath of the battle even more tragic, with countless lives lost, homes reduced to rubble, and roads torn apart. Hospitals overflowed with the wounded, from civilians caught in the crossfire to the brave hunters who had fought the beasts head-on.
Among the injured were the five brothers, now famous for defeating Lobo. They lay unconscious, their bodies marked by fire and claws, their bravery exacting a heavy toll. Remarkably, Paul, who had fought fiercely and decapitated Lobo, appeared unscathed. Yet, the medics were baffled by his condition—his clothes were soaked in blood, suggesting he had been wounded in the fight. Some speculated that his indomitable spirit had protected him from the worst injuries, while others wondered if he had been granted a mysterious gift of healing.
It had been hours since the battle when Paul first regained consciousness. He was the first among his brothers to wake, and his immediate concern was to check on them. Fortunately, they were all in the same large room, separated only by their beds. His brothers—Zaell, Jeyel, Rhyz, and Eijay—lay nearby, bandaged but alive, their injuries a stark reminder of the fierce battle they had endured.
Zaell, the vanguard, had valiantly deflected Lobo's brutal strikes, his body bruised and his shield shattered. Jeyel, master of the ice-wielding katana, had fought fiercely but had been scorched by the flames. Rhyz, the swift teleporter, had darted through danger with lightning speed, but now his once-agile body lay battered. Eijay, the half-giant spellcaster, rested with his injured hands still clutching his grimoire, unwilling to let go even in unconsciousness.
Nevertheless, Paul was reassured by the attending healer that his brothers' conditions were no longer life-threatening. In stark contrast, across the room, a close friend of the brothers, Sir Chris—a noble knight and high-ranking hunter—clung to life. Paul had just visited him, witnessing the critical care he was receiving while his beloved wife, Mrs. Lorry, remained by his side, her every movement shadowed by worry.
Meanwhile, the guild master had taken control of the city's defenses, ensuring its safety during these uncertain times. He was also responsible for spreading the word throughout Paran about Sir Chris and his crew's heroic sacrifices, as well as how the five brothers had no choice but to slay the once-benevolent king, who had been consumed by darkness.
As Paul made his way back to his and his brothers' quarters, he overheard nearby healers conversing: "It's tragic what happened to the king. He lost his queen and daughters to that devastating pandemic years ago, and his sons in the wars that followed. It's no wonder he fell into darkness."
"But to turn his soldiers into werewolves and curse our city to ruins? He must have truly lost his mind," another healer replied, shaking their head in disbelief.
As Paul returned to his and his brothers' room, he checked on them, hoping they would recover soon. They were still sleeping soundly, surrounded by faint glimmers of magic entwined with the fragrance of herbs.
In that moment of silence, Paul couldn't help but be flooded with memories from the battle—of roaring chaos, silvered fangs, and flaring fire lights. He pondered how the king, once a protector of the realm, could lash out with such fury.
Even in his final wolf form, with crimson eyes ablaze, he had sought to unleash his wrath upon the city's heart. Yet, amidst the memories of violence and destruction, Paul couldn't shake the feeling that the king had been crying.
"You're quite an unusual fellow," remarked a voice behind Paul.
He turned to see the guild master, an old man, standing there. "What do you mean?" he inquired.
"We found you covered in ashes and blood, yet completely uninjured. The healers are baffled by your recovery. Is there a hidden gift from the gods that you're unaware of?" the guild master asked, his curiosity piqued.
Paul began to question his own abilities. How had his wounds healed so swiftly during the battle? Perhaps it was due to his rage, but he quickly dismissed that thought; rage didn't have any healing properties. "I'm not sure," he replied, glancing at the open door to the room where Chris was being treated. "I just visited Sir Chris. He's in critical condition, isn't he?"
"We can't say for certain, but my best healers are working around the clock to ensure his survival," the guild master reassured him.
As Paul reflected on the situation, he thought about Mrs. Lorry. He remembered her cheerful demeanor from their first meeting, now replaced by the shadow of grief. He wished he could offer her support but hesitated, unsure of what to say.
Paul knew it wasn't his or his brothers' duty to protect the fallen or injured hunters. Chris, for instance, was a knight and a powerful hunter, like many others who had fought. Yet seeing his wife, Mrs. Lorry, in such sorrow stirred an uneasy feeling within him.
These feelings weighed on his mind until he decided to step outside the hospital, hoping the fresh air might ease his troubled thoughts. As he excused himself, the guild master, sensing his unrest, gave him a reassuring pat on the back. "Go on, Paul," he said. "I'll watch over your brothers until you return."
Grateful for the gesture, Paul smiled and flew out through an open window. The cool air immediately brushed against his face, contrasting with the warm sunlight that bathed his body, offering a soothing sense of relief.
As he soared over the city, the full extent of Paran's devastation unfolded beneath him, a stark reminder of the recent battle. The sight made his heart heavy—not only because he wished he could have done more, but also because it brought back painful memories of his own village's destruction.
His thoughts shifted to Dellie, his fairy companion. If she had been there, many more of the injured might have been saved. However, that was not the only reason she occupied his mind; a lingering worry had been building inside him for days. He recalled the nightmares he'd had, in which Dellie was in danger. The memory clung to him like a shadow, fueling his growing concern for her safety. He felt a strong urge to go to her immediately, to see if she was okay and to ensure she was safe.
As Paul hovered above the devastated city, a voice echoed through the air, breaking through his thoughts.
"Paul! Paul, come back!"
It was the guild master, his voice urgent yet filled with relief. Startled, Paul turned and quickly made his way back toward the hospital. His heart raced as he soared through the open window, landing softly in the room where his brothers lay.
The guild master stood there, a smile spreading across his weathered face. "Your brothers are awake," he announced, his eyes gleaming with joy.
Paul rushed to check on his brothers, relief flooding through him as he saw them conscious. "How are you all feeling?" he asked, concern etched on his face.
"My hands hurt; it feels like they were torched," Eijay joked, flexing his fingers.
Rhyz grinned and chimed in, "They were torched. Don't you remember?"
Eijay sniffed his hands theatrically. "No wonder they smell nice!" he quipped, earning another burst of laughter from the group. Even Paul cracked a smile, the shared humor easing his mind.
They continued to banter for a while but eventually, the conversation shifted back to the battle, and Zaell apologized, his voice tinged with regret.
"Sorry, bros, I wasn't fast enough to save you all from the damage," Zaell said. "I only managed to block the blast heading from Paul's direction. Sadly, my old shield could only stretch so far, and without knowing where you were, I couldn't protect all three of you."
"You did well, brother. No need to apologize," Jeyel reassured him, with Rhyz and Eijay nodding in agreement.
"Yeah, it wasn't your fault. The shield I invented was also lacking," Rhyz added. "But maybe now we can find a better material—one that's as big as your old shield but flexible enough to change not just size but also shape."
"Maybe you need a large amount of rare metal, like mithril. How about we go shopping after we get out of here?" Eijay suggested.
"Sounds good to me!" Paul agreed enthusiastically.
They all then turned to the guild master, who laughed, knowing what they wanted from him was their compensation.
As the guild master approached them, his eyes reflecting pride and gratitude. "It warms my heart to see all of you still in high spirits," he began, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. "Your remarkable achievements in the war have not gone unnoticed. You all will be greatly rewarded for your valor, and your ranks will be elevated," he announced, watching as cheers and smiles spread among the brothers, especially at the mention of rewards.
Then, he paused for a moment, his expression turning more serious. "I have an important announcement to make," he continued. "Thanks to your bravery, King Lo-Lobo has been slain. The people of the city have chosen me to become the next king and lead them into a better future." As he spoke, the brothers' expressions shifted, their unease evident.
Sensing their agitation, Paul knew he had to reassure them. "We did what we had to do; civilians were at stake," he urged, his voice soft yet firm.
The guild master quickly sought to alleviate their concerns. "We don't hold you responsible for the king's demise. Instead, we are grateful for your courageous deeds. The people consider you heroes," he assured them, offering comforting pats on their shoulders.
"In fact, during the cremation ceremony for the fallen hunters, everyone wanted to thank you for ending the war," he added.
In a show of respect and gratitude, Paul's brothers rose from their beds, despite their injuries, and knelt before the guild master. Not knowing what to do, Paul quickly mirrored his brothers' actions.
The guild master, soon to be crowned king, looked at them with warmth. "Please, there's no need for this. Your wounds need rest, and instead of treating me as king, I want you to treat me as you always have," he urged, gently guiding them back to their hospital beds.