"Blood Duke..."
This land had recently been awash with the legend of a terrifying werewolf, whose strength was formidable. Ordinary fighters were no match for it in combat. The federal government had offered a hefty bounty, constantly attracting bounty hunters to pursue it… all to no avail.
The Blood Duke was a master of transformation.
On ordinary days, it concealed its aura, blending into the crowd.
Or it would transform into a harmless little puppy.
Moments later, hunched in form, it gazed at the moon, licking the blood at the corner of its mouth, holding the head of a fighter in its hand and drinking it like watermelon juice.
Its appearance was indistinguishable from that of a werewolf.
The Blood Duke looked toward the east with cold eyes.
