Chapter 27

  Side Quest 10: Through Werewolf Territory & The Land of Pure Nope

  They reached the border of the Werewolf Territory —

  a dense, moss-draped forest soaked in damp earth and echoing howls.

  The air itself felt… suspicious.

  Tourists shifted nervously.

  A long, chilling howl rolled across the trees.

  Someone whimpered.

  But that wasn’t what truly terrified them.

  Because suddenly—

  Every werewolf within a one-kilometer radius emerged from the shadows.

  Dozens.

  Then more.

  They formed a circle around the group.

  Silent.

  Watching.

  Not hostile.

  Just… staring.

  Like a royal inspection.

  “Why are they all looking at me?” Shinin asked quietly, eyes darting.

  Fran shrugged.

  “No idea. Did you bathe in raw meat perfume this morning?”

  A massive black-furred werewolf stepped forward, bone earrings clinking softly.

  It sniffed the air.

  Snorted.

  Then spoke in a deep, rumbling voice:

  “Child of Zedwan…

  Alpha Blood…

  We recognize that scent.”

  Everyone turned slowly toward Shinin.

  A tourist whispered:

  “…Who’s Zedwan?”

  Shinin scratched his head.

  “Uh… my adoptive father.

  Former werewolf.”

  He paused.

  “…Now retired.

  Raises worms.”

  The werewolves’ eyes gleamed with ancestral respect.

  But not all were convinced.

  Several gigantic beasts blocked their path, growling, baring fangs.

  Testing him.

  Fran reached for his weapon.

  Shinin raised a hand.

  “Relax.”

  He stepped forward.

  Closed his eyes.

  Energy stirred.

  Tourists held their breath.

  Werewolves braced.

  Would he transform into—

  A majestic thunder tiger?

  A legendary sky beast?

  A divine war predator?

  PFFFFFTTTT!!

  Zoarfang’s jaw dropped.

  “BRO.”

  “…WHY ARE YOU A SKUNK?!”

  Shinin now stood proudly in full beast form:

  A horse-sized skunk.

  Tail fluffed like a dramatic feather duster.

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  Rear end angled with horrifying intent.

  The werewolves froze.

  Eyes widened.

  Realization dawned.

  Too late.

  FWOOOOSSSHHHH!!!

  A thick, greenish-yellow cloud exploded outward.

  Like a chemical weapon personally approved by nature’s dark side.

  Chaos.

  Absolute chaos.

  Werewolves howled.

  Panicked.

  Scattered.

  Fled like debt collectors had arrived with paperwork.

  Shinin reverted back, grinning proudly.

  “Ultimate technique.”

  Fran gagged.

  “…It smells like rotten boiled eggs marinated in expired shrimp paste!!”

  Shinin folded his arms smugly.

  “I call it—

  Zedwan’s Inherited Beast:

  Apocalyptic Wind of Tactical Regret.”

  Side Quest 11: The Graveyard & The Tree-Dwelling Pontianaks

  After surviving the olfactory war crime,

  they arrived at an ancient graveyard.

  Fog drifted low across the ground.

  Crooked trees stretched skyward like skeletal fingers.

  Tourists shivered.

  “This place reminds me of my grandmother’s village,” one muttered.

  “…Except Grandma’s village didn’t have vampire ghosts.”

  Right on cue—

  “Hiiiiii hiiii hiiiiiiii!!”

  Tourists screamed.

  Above them, pale figures lounged on branches:

  Pontianaks.

  Long hair sweeping the ground.

  Eyes glowing crimson.

  Fangs sharp enough to bite through a power bank.

  One tourist nearly fainted.

  Zoarfang rolled his eyes.

  “Nope.”

  He slammed his palm into the ground.

  The earth trembled.

  Trees shook violently like budget massage chairs.

  “If you’re going to perch dramatically,” Zoarfang snapped,

  “MAKE SURE YOUR TREE HAS GOOD ROOT SUPPORT!”

  The pontianaks shrieked louder.

  Then—

  Aisha stepped forward.

  Calm.

  Focused.

  Dangerous.

  Without warning—

  She flipped her hair down…

  Raised her arms…

  And unleashed a scream three times louder and infinitely more terrifying.

  “HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!”

  Silence.

  Pontianaks froze mid-air.

  Existential fear activated.

  Then—

  They fled.

  Instant mass evacuation.

  Like pigeons chased by a supernatural airhorn.

  Except…

  One unlucky pontianak slipped.

  Panicked.

  Tangled.

  And as fabric snagged—

  Something fell from the branches.

  Drifting slowly.

  Gracefully.

  Tragically.

  A worn…

  Pink…

  Ribbon-tied…

  Underwear.

  Landing directly in front of Shinin.

  Dead silence.

  No one moved.

  No one breathed.

  Shinin looked down.

  “…I don’t want to know.”

  Fran immediately marched forward.

  “We saw nothing.”

  Zoarfang used a stick to push it into a nearby drain.

  “Rest in peace, mysterious garment.”

  Important Note

  From that day onward—

  Whenever Aisha screamed,

  Birds within a 3-kilometer radius stopped singing.

  Some reportedly migrated to another continent.

  Out of respect.

  And survival instinct.