“What a marvelous treasure!” Glenn couldn’t help but exclaim in excitement.

  Across the battlefield, the kingdom’s high-ranking warriors, who had been observing the clash from afar, all darkened in expression—this was far from the outcome they had hoped for. Yet none were more enraged than the high-tier and greater demons.

  “Wretched creature! You dare seize our Flamefang? Your soul shall be bound to the furnaces of Hell, to endure the agony of eternal fire!”

  “I’ll tear him apart and devour every piece of him!”

  “Kill him!”

  The upper demons surged toward Glenn in a frenzy. The warriors who had once held them back no longer had a reason to intervene.

  For most, the sight of so many powerful demons charging in madness would be enough to break their courage. But Glenn—he was thrilled. It was the perfect opportunity to test his new weapon.

  Sensing its master’s eagerness, the twin gauntlets ignited with roaring flames, the fire crackling like the guttural growl of demons.

  “If you want it, then come and take it! The Flamefang belongs only to the victor! Defeat me—and it’s yours!” Glenn’s deep, thunderous voice resounded over the battlefield.

  His challenge only drove the demons into a greater frenzy. Their bodies warped with monstrous mutations as their power surged to new heights.

  Good, Glenn thought, his right arm drawing back before he struck forward with full force.

  Behind him, the phantom of a colossal dragon flickered into being. As his claws swept outward, the phantom vanished—replaced by five immense, blazing arcs of fire that expanded rapidly before him.

  The demons had scarcely drawn near before the suffocating pressure of draconic might crashed upon them. The superheated air pulled them forward—dragging their bodies into the oncoming blades of flame.

  There was no clean slicing, no elegant carnage—only chaos. The flaming strikes tore the demons apart, shredding them into unrecognizable fragments. Molten flesh, black smoke, and twisted souls rained down upon the scorched earth.

  The five blades traveled far before fading into nothingness.

  The sight left the entire battlefield in stunned silence.

  The warriors who had been fighting the upper demons moments before stared wide-eyed, unable to move, uncertain of what to do. That kind of power—if turned on them—would leave nothing but ash.

  The lesser demons, who had intended to follow their superiors into battle, all turned and fled toward the receding tide of the demon horde.

  The war was already lost. Whoever stood victorious here—it would not be them.

  What remained were mindless lesser fiends, cornered beasts awaiting extermination by the knights.

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  “What should we do? If that terrifying werewolf turns on us, we have no chance of survival!” a senior knight of the Templar Order said anxiously.

  “We cannot retreat,” declared Rez, standing upon his sky lord’s back, his expression grave. “To flee now would betray the honor we’ve forged through years of trial.”

  “Then we fight,” said a mage who had taken the form of a great eagle. “There is no other choice.”

  Below, the griffon riders who were still purging the lesser demons stole wary glances toward the monstrous werewolf. They all knew—if he turned his fury upon them, another catastrophe would unfold.

  But Glenn had no intention of lingering. He needed to leave—fast.

  Though the gauntlets granted him immense energy, this form devoured it just as quickly. He had no desire to suffer that dreadful hunger again.

  Besides, he had never planned to fight the knights at all.

  After unleashing that devastating strike, the gauntlets dimmed—their glow fading into the dull shimmer of cooldown.

  Just as Glenn prepared to withdraw, a massive hand—hundreds of meters tall—rose from the demon tide. A chilling voice reverberated across the battlefield:

  “You cannot leave! Surrender the Flamefang!”

  Another one? Glenn tensed, readying for combat—

  —but the enormous hand began to smolder under the scorching sunlight, dissolving rapidly until it vanished entirely before reaching him.

  “That scared the hell out of me…” Glenn muttered, half amused, half exasperated.

  The kingdom’s warriors, too, were shaken by the apparition, only to realize moments later that the sunlight had already annihilated it.

  When they looked again, their gazes fixed upon Glenn.

  Dark smoke began to coil around him, thick and impenetrable, shrouding his form.

  The knights raised their weapons, wary and tense, expecting some dark sorcery to follow—

  —but when the smoke cleared, there was no explosion, no attack.

  Instead, the werewolf was gone.

  “Where is he? Find the beast!” someone shouted.

  Several senior mages immediately began casting detection spells, only to conclude that the werewolf had already left the region entirely.

  Tracking or divination was impossible—the demons had corrupted the land, rendering such magic useless.

  “Stay alert! He could still be near!” the commander ordered.

  Experience had taught them: it was at moments like these that danger often struck again.

  But the culprit had already left the battlefield, returning to the outskirts of his home.

  When he shifted back into human form, Glenn was pleasantly surprised—the gauntlets could transform into clothing, their style entirely at his will.

  Now they rested upon his wrists as a pair of dark, intricate bands, inscribed on the inner side with a line of demonic script whose meaning he could not decipher.

  “I’ll ask the old man when he gets back,” he murmured. “He should be able to translate it.”

  He approached the house, from which came a cacophony of noise—chief among them Tia’s shrill screams.

  He could already guess what was happening.

  Sure enough, when he pushed open the door, Gothaya was holding the larva and scaring the little maid senseless, while Laviel laughed uncontrollably beside her.

  The young maid clutched a broom, swinging it wildly with her eyes shut, tears at the corners.

  The elf girl froze when Glenn entered, startled, hastily pulling the larva back into her arms. “I was only teasing her…” she stammered.

  Laviel quickly covered her mouth and retreated to a corner.

  “You two really have too much free time,” Glenn sighed, flicking Gothaya on the forehead.

  The elf winced, pouting but not daring to argue.

  Upon hearing Glenn’s voice, Tia opened her eyes and instantly burst into tears. She ran into his arms, sobbing, “Mr. Glenn! The elf lady’s so mean—she kept scaring me with that awful bug!”

  “There, there—it’s alright. I’ve already punished her. That thing’s not so scary, really,” Glenn said helplessly.

  “But I am scared…” Tia whimpered, refusing to let go.

  “Then hide behind me, alright?” Glenn suggested.

  After a moment, she nodded reluctantly and tucked herself behind him.

  “Huh? Mr. Glenn, your clothes…”

  It was only then that everyone noticed how unusual his outfit looked.

  Indeed, it was—Glenn had merged the simple attire of local commoners with the comfortable design of Earth’s sportswear, creating something both practical and unassuming in the eyes of others.