His massive frame slowly shrank, reverting to a third-tier werewolf. Glancing at the five crimson-robed figures now utterly devoid of life, Glenn muttered softly, “Madmen… every one of them.”

  The pillar woven from crimson silken threads still stood at the center of the square. When it saw Glenn turn toward it, it let out a shrill, panicked cry: “Don’t come any closer! You can’t kill me— you can’t!”

  Glenn paid the hysterical thing no mind. As he advanced, the distant sound of a griffin’s wings reached his ears. Without wasting another second, he transformed back into his fifth-tier form, carefully uprooted the pillar as one might pull a child from the ground, and hoisted it onto his shoulder before sprinting away.

  He circled once around the outskirts, then made straight for Bayek. Hunger gnawed at him from within— the kind of hunger that could drive lesser beings insane— yet his expression remained calm.

  He moved unseen through the wilderness, and by the time he reached the town, no one had so much as glimpsed him. After exchanging only a few hurried words with his family, he dashed toward the town’s depths.

  “Werewolf! Where are you taking me? Let me go— now!” the pillar shrieked incessantly.

  Glenn ignored it. The familiar ash-grey house loomed ahead. The door creaked open as if awaiting him, and the black crow stepped out, as though it had long sensed his arrival.

  “Black Crow, this thing—” Glenn began, but his host merely nodded once.

  The werewolf fell silent.

  “I already know what brings you here,” said the crow in his calm, gravelly voice.

  “Then… do you have a way to deal with it?” Glenn asked. He had no desire to leave any lingering threats behind— not again. Magic was beyond his grasp, and he didn’t even know whether the children within the pillar could still be saved.

  “You!” The pillar suddenly screamed, its tone trembling with recognition. “It’s you!”

  They knew each other? Glenn’s eyes darted between them, puzzled.

  But the Black Crow offered no answer. Instead, he turned his gaze toward the house. From within, withered vines began to stretch outward. A gentle voice, familiar and serene, drifted from the doorway— Madame Regilla’s voice.

  “Give it to me.”

  “You too?! Regilla? Impossible! You should be dead! No— don’t touch me!”

  Something within the pillar writhed violently, but the silk held firm. Without hesitation, Glenn placed the pillar upon the reaching vines. Despite their frail appearance, they bore the heavy structure effortlessly.

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  “No! Please! Spare me! I can be of use— I can help you!”

  The vines grew rapidly, encasing the pillar entirely. The cries within grew weaker, fading until they were no more.

  “The children…” Glenn murmured.

  “Do not worry,” Madame Regilla’s voice replied gently. “They will be fine.”

  Glenn watched with rapt attention. No matter how many times he had seen such sorcery, it never ceased to amaze him.

  Time passed in silence. Eventually, the vines began to wither and fall away, dragging the crimson silk down with them. The once-vibrant threads had turned dull and lifeless. The pillar was gone.

  More than twenty children now lay gently upon the ground, released from their prison. But at the center of them rested a creature— a pale golden grub, no longer than a man’s forearm.

  At first sight, Glenn assumed it to be the same monster he had once slain. “So it was behind all this?” he asked.

  But the Black Crow shook his head. “No. Not this one.”

  Glenn’s lupine eyes narrowed in confusion.

  “This is indeed not it,” Madame Regilla confirmed. “It’s a rare kind of mythical larva— its true name eludes me. It is not the same species as the demon progeny Baaljaron. Someone tried to inject Baaljaron’s lingering soul into this little creature… to bring him back to life.”

  Possession? Glenn’s thoughts reeled. “But if it’s only the soul, would that still count as a demon progeny? I thought that cult— that so-called Church of the Old Gods— cared deeply about bloodlines.”

  “The Church of the Old Gods?” The Black Crow’s eyes flickered with faint surprise.

  “You don’t know them?” Glenn asked, incredulous.

  “It’s been long since we last had contact with the outside world,” came Regilla’s calm reply. “In our time, that name meant nothing.”

  “The guests who came to your birthday last time— they didn’t mention it?”

  “Our last gathering was the first in a century,” said the Black Crow quietly. “There wasn’t much time for idle talk.”

  As they spoke, the golden larva began to stir.

  Glenn cast it a glance, then returned to the earlier topic. “Anyway, do you really think that cult wouldn’t care about physical lineage?”

  “Baaljaron’s soul is highly corruptive,” Regilla explained. “Once it invades a host, the creature’s body will gradually be reshaped— until it becomes Baaljaron’s true form.”

  So even the flesh can be remade by the soul… The revelation stunned Glenn. Then, another thought chilled him. Could my own body have…?

  His musing was cut short by Regilla’s gentle voice: “Take this creature. Do with it as you will.”

  “Give it to me?” Glenn repeated.

  The larva had now fully awakened, its crystalline eyes glimmering as it trembled, curling up in fear.

  After a moment’s hesitation, Glenn nodded. “Fine. I’ll keep it— as a pet.”

  He mused silently: Perhaps Night Howl can look after it when I’m away.

  With care, he lifted the soft-bodied creature in one clawed hand, stroking it gently with the other to calm it.

  “What does it eat?” he asked.

  “It favors the leaves of a certain tree— one that, I believe, has long gone extinct,” came Regilla’s voice. “But it can feed on ordinary plants as well. The taste will simply differ.”

  Glenn nodded. As he prepared to carry the unconscious children away, the vines moved once more— arranging the little ones neatly together, as though to make them easier to bear.

  Then, one final vine stretched toward him, its tip glowing faintly. Two strange golden fruits bloomed at its end.

  “Take these,” said Madame Regilla. “Eat one now. Keep the other— you will need it someday.”

  Glenn hesitated, but she added, “Do not worry. It costs me little.”

  He sighed and plucked the fruits, swallowing one whole.

  At first, nothing happened. Then, the tormenting hunger that had plagued him throughout his journey vanished— replaced by a soothing warmth and a surprising sense of fullness.

  “How do you feel?” Regilla asked kindly.

  “I feel… wonderful! I was starving a moment ago— now I’m actually full!” Glenn exclaimed, a rare smile lighting his lupine face.