Fighting monsters was one of the least morally complex things Nick had ever done. The Grumblers, for example, were large, ugly creatures that would loot and kill any human settlement if given the chance, so he hadn’t even hesitated when turning them into paste.
The werewolves were a bit different. Nick would still eliminate them, especially since a horde was trying to get into Long Reach to feast on its citizens’ flesh. However, he also knew that their emotional state was severely affected by the curse that had turned them, and there was a small chance, however remote, that they were innocent victims being forced to commit heinous deeds without their consent.
But is it really possible? They should have known better than to stay so close to a town. Lycanthropy isn’t a subtle curse; the bearer should recognize from the moment they are infected that they are dangerous.
The Shard flashed, and a wave of water surged from the river, crashing down on the flanking werewolves and returning them to what was left of their camp.
Notably, he didn’t receive any notification about their deaths despite the violence and clicked his tongue. “Damn cursed beings, they are much more resilient than regular monsters.”
He needed direct hits to take them down, but there were still too many for him to justify stopping and aiming. A single monster slipping through would mean the curse would be inflicted on more innocents, and that was unacceptable.
Fortunately, the racket he caused was enough to alert the town’s militia that they were under attack, and soon Nick was relieved of his duties as warden of the entire flank so he could focus on a more manageable stretch of land.
“About time!” he called as a ranger landed on the wall behind him.
“What the hell is going on?!” the man shouted back, but there was no need for Nick to answer because a werewolf heard the noise and lunged, crossing a hundred feet in a single leap.
It also hit the ground with a wet thump, sliced in half by Nick’s wind blades.
“We’re under attack,” he replied drily. “I sensed way too much activity in the refugee camp, and when I arrived, they were scaling the walls and about to attack the town.”
The ranger didn’t seem to be very pleased with that, but he knew the situation wasn’t exactly suitable for a lengthy explanation.
He also noticed that Nick was floating several feet above the wall, which immediately categorized him as a mage not to be messed with, especially since he had been the only one keeping the town safe during the first wave.
To the man’s credit, he didn’t waste time asking more questions and started releasing arrow after arrow from his bow, the projectiles shimmering under the moonlight and falling unerringly upon the closest werewolves, guided by powerful skills.
As more people took charge of defending the wall, Nick decided it was finally time to go on the attack. “We’ll talk later,” he shouted, then rose into the air until he was directly above the swirling swarm of werewolves.
For a moment, he hung there, weighing his options. Elemental magic was working reasonably well, but the regeneration granted by the curse of lycanthropy was strong enough that to kill them, he’d have to either drain his reserves completely or take them out one by one, which would take too long.
[Call of the Void] was another option. The spell was still fairly new, and he had yet to master much of its potential, but it could significantly weaken the pack, hopefully giving everyone a chance to finish the rest of the work for him.
However, that wasn’t a perfect solution either. No, to stop the assault, he needed to address the underlying problem because no matter how many defenders arrived, they weren’t perfect, and eventually, one of the werewolves would get lucky, turning another innocent into a monster.
What Nick needed to do was affect the curse itself, but if it were so easy to solve, it wouldn’t have been the most famous curse in history.
On Earth, its origins lay in the defiance of the gods, fueled by hubris. Kings, priests, and warriors who dared challenge the supreme beings—especially those who sacrificed innocents to provoke a response from the gods—were turned into maddened wolves, which gave birth to lineages of lycanthropes.
Berea had similar traditions, although Nick had only come across them tangentially, as he was more focused on demons than cursed beings.
Still, the core principle was the same. If he wanted to stop, or at least slow down the werewolves, he needed to cut off their connection to the ether, through which the curse was spread.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
[Call of the Void] would do that, but it would also tear their souls apart, which would kill them, and he needed at least one of them alive to question after all this was said and done. And not just because I’m curious about the metaphysics of an actual Curse of Lycanthropy.
Decided on his course, Nick grasped the Shard with both hands and poured about a third of his reserves into it at once.
His [Territory] slammed onto the battlefield a moment later, more tangible than ever before, both because of the power he was wielding and thanks to the staff he was channeling it through, as its innate spatial properties transformed even pure magic into real forces.
A moment of stillness swept over everyone caught in its grip as they realized that something greater than themselves was affecting the world around them, until the howls started.
As expected, removing the werewolves from the vibrant energy of the full moon was neither easy nor painless.
There was no way for him to reverse the transformation since it was a done deal that would only undo itself when the curse’s time expired, but the mental chaos the magic caused its victims — that was something he could feel, and with his control over the emotions swirling through the ether, it was easy to start counteracting it.
Thankfully, the defenders didn’t stand there in shock, and soon thumps began echoing below him as more werewolves were taken down. A large man even fell among them, leading the charge deep into the refugee camp and turning the tide completely.
But something else started to emerge. Something Nick hadn’t anticipated, but really ought to have expected.
Lycanthropy was a divine curse, after all, so why would the divine being that inflicted it just sit back and take it?
Its presence was less maddening than that of a demon, but a similar sense of wrongness spread, something he recognized from when he’d seen Sashara manifest herself, even if that had been through a vessel, and not unbound, as what approached him now.
He wasn’t even beginning to grasp its true form, he realized. Too many veils lay between them for him to pierce, and for once, he was grateful for that, as what little he glimpsed of its primal wilderness made his teeth clench.
Yet at the same time, the world rose up in anger, reacting to the god’s presence much like it did to demons. To the planet’s spirit, gods were as alien as the hellish abominations, and it wanted nothing to do with their presence.
Nick didn’t hesitate to seize the power [Worldcraft] offered him and wield it to strengthen the barrier between dimensions.
For once, he didn’t need to wait until the being had crossed over, since he had no intention of fighting it directly or letting it see his face.
Impotent anger resonated through the ether, eliciting more pained howls from the werewolves, while their connection to the god diminished because of the new distance that lay between them.
Nick stayed like that, hands wrapped around the Shard, which shone a pure gold as it channeled his own mana and the power the World so freely provided, until the curse, without guidance from its origin, finally shrank back. It was not defeated, as it was too deeply woven into the flesh of its victims, but for a time, it was pushed away.
Several werewolves still attacked the defenders, wielding their sharp claws with glee, and telling Nick that his initial assessment that this was not a pure coincidence was more correct than he would have liked.
But others lay down, whimpering as they curled up, and over the course of half an hour, the town’s militia, local adventurers, and about a dozen of the Lord’s soldiers managed to subdue all the violent ones before tying up those who had surrendered with thick iron chains, likely taken from the fishing ships moored in the small harbor behind them.
Only after the last one was tied up did Nick start pulling [Territory] back and letting the curse surge again.
Frenzied howls shook the night once again, and the divine being, or at least that fraction of its consciousness responsible for the curse of lycanthropy, finally retreated, satisfied that its anger was no longer being restrained.
The World also receded, and Nick slowly floated downward, feeling more exhausted than he had in a long time. Even forging the Shard hadn’t been that tiring, though it had definitely been more complex and involved.
“Not bad,” he murmured. It was somewhat amusing that the System reacted to gods in much the same way it did to demons, but then again, they were two sides of the same coin, albeit with different motivations for controlling the material plane.
Then again, a demon wouldn't be satisfied with just this much, and if I had repelled a Greater Demon on my own, the reward would have been much greater, so maybe it doesn’t see them as the same.
The moon still hung high, and it would remain so for several hours, making the transport of the captives extremely impractical. Therefore, a watch was quickly organized to monitor the chained werewolves, who were even now struggling to break free and renew their attack.
“Who are you?” a low voice asked, and Nick turned to face a young man whose beard was still patchy, but whose eyes were fierce enough to warn him not to underestimate him. Well, that, and the fact that he felt reasonably powerful for his apparent age.
Before he could answer, another person slid in between them. “Terence, it’s been a while!” Monte said, more cheerfully than the situation allowed.
The young man eyed him for a long moment before sighing. “Charmace. Is this one of your people?”
Monte shrugged, subtly signaling to Nick that he should let him handle the issue, which he was happy to do. He had had his fill of handling testy bastards with that god.
“You will need to come with me to see my uncle,” Terence muttered, shaking his head, but it was noticeably less intense than before.
“One would think we’d get a thank you first,” Monte replied, infusing enough weight into his tone to make it clear that Terence wasn’t in the position to give out orders willy nilly.
Given that Nick had just saved a large part of his family’s town from slaughter, that was an understatement.
Terence turned back, face twisting, but he gave a quick nod and turned to Nick, bowing his head just enough to show gratitude without seeming overly deferential. “I thank you for your actions, stranger. Without you, this night would have gone much worse.”
And yet, several soldiers had surrounded them in the meantime, making it clear they wouldn't be going anywhere until they talked with Lord Rohm.
Monte looked at him silently, silently asking what he wanted to do, and Nick considered the idea of summoning the Shard again and showing them exactly where to put their expectations, but this was too good a chance to talk to the local lord. He nodded, and Monte pressed his lips together before nodding back.
“Lead the way,” he said, and this time, they followed Terence out.
Nick sensed Malik and Yvonne through the crowd of adventurers and sent them whispered messages to keep an eye on things, especially to track where the werewolves would be taken once the full moon’s power faded, and to listen for whatever Captain Blunderbuss, who had led the charge into the hordes, thought of the lackluster presence of the Lord’s men.
For once, they didn’t startle, having gotten used to his peculiar style. Or perhaps it was the knowledge that he alone had turned the tide of battle. Compared to that, being able to send private messages wasn’t much.
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