In his fifth-level werewolf form, Glenn knew that as long as he destroyed even one of the spellcasters, he could tear through this sealed space with ease. Yet he also knew his enemies were prepared.

  Sure enough, within moments, ten figures emerged simultaneously from the arched passages beneath the surrounding walls. All of them were heavily armed, and Glenn could both smell and sense the high-grade artifacts and weapons they carried.

  “Hahaha… it really is a fifth-level werewolf! Had I not been warned in advance, I would’ve thought the old wolf himself had come,” bellowed a broad-shouldered man with a booming voice.

  “The stench of curses is thick around him, and that young, powerful body… he might even surpass the old one. Don’t let your guard down,” cautioned a long-haired warrior.

  “Relax. With a team like ours, even two fifth-level werewolves wouldn’t be too much to handle,” said a woman in a flowing robe.

  As they debated amongst themselves, Glenn gave a low, guttural laugh unique to his kind. “Heh… looks like you’re here to farm me like some raid boss. Interesting…”

  “He—he spoke!?” one of them exclaimed in disbelief.

  “This might be a variant! Stay sharp, everyone—this won’t be as easy as we thought!”

  “Understood! Take your positions!”

  The ten of them moved with practiced precision, clearly veterans of many battles fought together.

  “Come then,” Glenn growled, “let me play with you a while.” His voice rippled through the air like a wave, shattering the silence— The battle began.

  When Glenn vanished, the square fell eerily quiet, the sky returning to normal. A squad of griffin riders swooped down, landing in the most crowded part of town.

  At the sight of the knights clad in shining silver armor, the townsfolk—who had moments ago been shouting at the officers—fell instantly silent.

  Most of the riders who dismounted were women, with only a few lean or average-built men among them.

  The leading female knight strode forward and demanded sharply, “What’s going on here? Why are you still here? Did you not receive the evacuation orders?”

  No one dared to answer.

  Just then, Doggery pushed through the crowd, explaining hastily, “Forgive us, my lady knight. The townsfolk couldn’t bear to leave their homes and livelihoods, so they…”

  “Are their lives worth less than their property?” she snapped, cutting him off. “Everyone is to evacuate immediately! Any who refuse will be arrested!”

  “But the demons… they’re not coming here anymore!” Doggery blurted.

  The knight paused, frowning. “And how would you know that?”

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  Gritting his teeth, Doggery lied, “I saw the demon army that was headed here turn back.”

  The female knight exchanged glances with her companions. They had only just arrived and knew little of the situation. Seeing the town still full of people, they had landed to investigate.

  “I see. Maintain order here—we’re heading to the battlefield to assess the situation,” she said, mounting her griffin once more.

  “Wait, my lady knight!” Doggery called out urgently.

  She turned, clearly impatient. “What is it now?”

  He quickly recounted the incident involving the five strange individuals who had appeared in the town earlier.

  He had noticed the mysterious sigil in the sky vanish moments ago and, worried for Glenn, was about to investigate when the knights arrived.

  Upon hearing his story, the lead knight immediately spurred her griffin forward, her squad following as they soared toward the plaza.

  They had sensed something amiss earlier but hadn’t looked into it deeply. Now, they would investigate properly.

  Doggery could only lead a few officers in pursuit.

  When they arrived once more at the square, everything was gone.

  The griffin knights searched the area thoroughly, but found nothing.

  “Glenn…” Doggery murmured, standing frozen for a long while.

  After an indeterminate time, one of the female knights approached him. “We’re not mages—we can’t trace residual magic. The battlefield takes priority now. Once the invaders are defeated, we’ll return to this matter.”

  “But…” Doggery began, but before he could finish, the griffin knights had already taken to the skies once more.

  Inside the Illusion Realm.

  Glenn’s entire body was bound by rune-inscribed rings of varying size. Each one radiated a crippling weakening effect, drastically sapping his strength.

  Even so, he remained composed, analyzing his enemies and seeking a way to turn the tide.

  A warrior wielding a massive two-meter greatsword glided behind him like the wind and brought his blade down in a deadly arc.

  To such a towering wolf form, the strike should have been unavoidable. Yet Glenn bent low in a flash, pivoted, and kicked backward—dodging the blow and sending the attacker flying.

  The man’s layered wards flared, barely absorbing the impact, but he was still hurled several meters away.

  Another warrior, clad in heavy armor and wielding a shield thicker than a door, roared and charged like a living fortress.

  The other fighters instinctively withdrew, giving him space.

  Glenn had no time to dodge, yet he only found the scene amusing. With a single motion, he caught the massive shield with one hand, halting the unstoppable charge dead in its tracks.

  “Pitting raw strength against a werewolf? What were you thinking?” he sneered.

  His claws tightened, and cracks split the enchanted surface of the shield, accompanied by the sound of breaking mana channels.

  The armored man’s eyes widened—his shield, forged by a master dwarven smith and said to be unbreakable, was being crushed by a single hand.

  But before he could even react, Glenn raised his other claw, ready to shatter it completely—

  And then, magic flared. His raised hand twisted grotesquely, morphing into writhing octopus tentacles that lunged for his own face.

  Snarling, Glenn released the shield and tore at the tentacles. The suction cups clung to his muzzle, blinding him. By the time he ripped them away, several blows had already landed against him.

  He leapt back, widening the distance between himself and the melee fighters.

  Inside him, the wolf venom surged violently toward the corrupted arm, devouring the foreign magic.

  The tentacles writhed for a moment longer before going limp, like fish left gasping on dry land, and finally withered to dust.

  With a sharp crack, his clawed hand returned to normal.

  At the same instant, the magic circle spinning in the hands of a mage at the edge of the battlefield shattered. The man frowned. “He broke through it…?”

  The fight raged on.

  Several times, Glenn tried to break through the formation to strike down the supporting spellcasters, but each attempt failed.

  It was perhaps the most constraining battle he had ever fought—his body weighed down by countless curses and debuffs, his attacks continually thwarted.

  He tried to bite, but a metal muzzle sealed his jaws. He swung his claws, only for them to warp into strange, uncontrollable forms.

  So this is what it feels like to be a boss in someone else’s game, he thought bitterly—even as the battle roared around him.