The stench of rotten flesh assaulted his nose.

Jules hadn’t opened the door yet, but the pungent smell was already strong enough to make one’s stomach churn—he couldn’t fathom how much worse it would get once inside the room. Well, he had a hunch it would probably be enough to make his nose fall off.

Honestly, the hunter would rather bypass this room. It gave off an ominous feeling, the kind that made his instinct cry out in alarm. However, he didn’t have much choice: the other doors led to empty chambers with closed-off windows. He had rummaged through them earlier, turning them upside-down, but he found nothing—no escape routes whatsoever. Whether he liked it or not, they had to go through the last room. If they wanted to leave this hellhole, that is.

“Stay close to Bastien and me,” Jules ordered, glancing at his sister and her friends in warning. “Don’t wander about.”

Annabelle responded with a nod, and the teenagers gathered closer to her. They knew the drill now and wouldn’t get in the way. 

Satisfied, Jules turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. The sight that then greeted him made him pause slightly, his eyes darkening. Before him lay piles of mutilated corpses, the bodies more often than not half-torn, with the rib cages messily lacerated open. Pieces of guts were scattered left and right, abandoned on the furniture, the bed, and the wooden floor. Something seemed to have taken a bite before deciding the organs weren’t to its taste and discarding them.  

If anything, it wasn’t a pretty sight. The foul stench had also grown stronger, attacking even the throat and the lungs. It was unbearable.

It wasn’t long before Jules heard the sound of someone vomiting, and when he looked over his shoulder, he saw Iris emptying her stomach. He couldn’t blame her, however. She was only a young teen, and though she had somewhat grown used to the gruesome scenes, this was a little too much. Melody was better off because she coped by closing off her mind, but Iris was well aware of everything. 

To make matters worse, she knew these corpses were customers of the amusement park, people who had come to enjoy the haunted house just like her. Earlier, Jules had explained that the manor was a giant array, and the corridors were a maze that interchanged now and then. People venturing inside often wouldn’t cross paths because they were sent to different places by groups after passing through the hall, which was why Jules had been so frantic when the girls went in first and left him and Bastien outside. If they had been separated, who knows what ending the girls would have had.

These mangled corpses… They could very well have been her and her friends. When Iris thought of such things, it was hard to keep up a brave front.

What was going through the teenager’s head was easy to guess, but Jules didn’t have the leisure to comfort her: a door on the opposite wall was gently pushed open, revealing two silhouettes and a washroom in the background.

A woman wearing a loose bathrobe stood next to a man, who was busy wiping off his bloody hands with a white towel. They both had impressive builds, their shoulders broad and their limbs toned with muscles. Long whitish-gray hair fell down on their backs, and their golden eyes shone with a predatory glint. Beasts in human forms; that was what they were. 

“Oh my, looks like we have guests,” the woman chuckled, her lips parting to reveal sharp fangs. “Please excuse the mess, we weren’t expecting anyone. Well, not so soon.”

“Hm, doesn’t matter. They smell nice,” the man licked his lips, greedy eyes falling upon Jules and Bastien, “especially these two.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Who will be the main course, and who will be the desert?”

“We’re civilized beasts and will respect your answer. So, what would it be?”

Jules didn’t bother replying. Instead, he lifted his hand, and white particles of spiritual energy gathered at his fingertips. The next instant, his sword was in his hand. The snow-white blade shone brighter than usual, and residual energy trailed at the head of the pommel, just like floating ribbons.

“Jules…”

Bastien’s voice traveled to his ears, but the hunter didn’t spare him a glance. What the demon wanted to say was easy to guess. Jules was also all too aware that he was pushing his luck, straining the weakening seal on his soul. However, what else could he do? Werewolves weren’t things he could fight half-heartily.

“I know, Bastien, but you still cannot fight properly in your current state. You starved yourself for far too long. Anyway, I’ll handle it, so stay back and protect the girls. You can do that much, right?”

The incubus had eaten, yes, but not enough. There was only so much little kisses could do— kisses were akin to snacks to incubi, nothing very nutritive, unlike intercourses. Even if Jules had willingly shared his life force with the demon, it replenished but a fraction of his former strength. When all was said and done, Bastien’s current state wasn’t good enough to fight werewolves, not on a full-moon night.

These were beasts born to hunt, warriors who bathed in blood since birth. Against such things, a weakened incubus had no chance of winning. He’d just be cannon fodder, to put it bluntly.

Whatever Bastien answered, Jules didn’t listen and charged forward. His sword swung toward the man’s neck, but the damned thing swiftly took a step backward, avoiding the blade by an inch. With a smile, he then whistled:

“What lively prey!”

At the same time, the woman brought down her clawed hand with the intent of slicing the hunter’s wrist. But Jules spun on his heels, and a roundhouse kick struck her in the stomach, sending her flying. She crashed onto the wall yet lifted her head to smile, delight glinting in her golden eyes. Fun. That was what the look on her face screamed. 

‘Crazy things,’ the thought crossed his mind as Jules bent over to avoid the male werewolf, wind brushing against his back. Had he been a second later, a hand would have pierced through his chest.

The sly thing had pounced on the hunter from behind and flew over him after missing his target. The werewolf landed on all fours on the floor but couldn’t stop his momentum, sliding on the blood while clawing the wooden planks. And just like his mate, a mad smile stretched his lips.  

The werewolves were fast to the point they seemed to teleport in the teenagers’ eyes. Even Jules had difficulty following their movements. He was trying to suppress his spiritual energy from wreaking havoc while fighting, and that affected his senses. His reflex had become slower as a result.

If it hadn’t been for his instinct honed by years of hunt, Jules feared he’d already be dead meat. Werewolves were that fearsome.

The hunter gritted his teeth and made a choice. Soon, he allowed more spiritual energy to flow through his body, strengthening every fiber of his being. He knew drawing out more spiritual energy wasn’t wise, of course he knew, but what else could he do? Right now, he had to move faster, so much faster, or else he’d end up dead.  

For the time being, the werewolves were playing, not fighting seriously; they still wore their human skins, which limited their monstrous physical abilities. But the instant they morphed into beast forms, Jules knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up. He’d be devoured alive.

He had to finish them off before that.

Jules shot toward the man like a lightning bolt, his sword slicing through his abdomen. He had tried to pierce his heart, but the man moved just in time. Now, the werewolf laughed, gripping the hunter’s arm with both hands.

“Caught you!”

As the words left his mouth, the woman snuck behind Jules. The hunter had to let go of his sword and yank his arm back, rolling on the ground to dodge the attack. However, he was still too slow, and claws dug into his left thigh. He hissed in pain, holding the wound that bled like a waterfall. These shitty things…

They were in perfect sync, and their healing ability was a pain in the neck. The werewolf had pulled out the sword from his abdomen, not minding the skin of his hands burning as he held the pommel. An instant later, the deep wound in his stomach already started to close off.

“Hm, tasty,” the woman giggled as she licked her bloody hand, madness distorting her face. The blood was smeared on her mouth like lipstick, turning her lips bright red.

“Give me a taste,” the man singsonged, leaning over to suck on his mate’s fingers. “Ah, such a delicacy! It makes you wonder just how good his liver tastes.”

“You can have the liver, I’m taking the heart.”

“That’s unfair, dear! We should share, hm?”

“Alright, alright. Let’s feast together then.”

The look in the werewolves’ eyes grew greedier, impatient, even. While savoring the hunter’s blood, they could not help but size him up as if he was a juicy piece of steak, almost salivating. Now, they couldn’t wait to sink their fangs into his flesh and devour him whole.

“Don’t move!” Jules warned when he caught a glimpse of Bastien’s shadow, the incubus having stepped forward to come to his help. “Stay where you are.”

The werewolves weren’t paying the rest of the group any heed, focused on the hunter. But if the incubus intervened, they would shift their attention to him and include him in the fight. It was something Jules wouldn’t allow, not over his dead body.

So, he had to slay them. He called back his sword, which disappeared from the werewolf’s hand only to reappear in his the next instant. With his weapon in hands, Jules jumped back into the fray without hesitation, turning a deaf ear to anything Bastien said. He tuned down his sister’s cries of worry, didn’t think of what would become of him, and moved on instinct.  

The wounds and cuts multiplied, yet Jules did not stop. As the seconds went by, he drew more and more spiritual energy from behind the seal. The fissures widened and cracked, and a fire seemed to spread through his limbs. However, Jules did not mind.  All he cared about was that he had become faster and stronger—enough to cut the male werewolf’s hand and slice through the female’s thigh.  

Until the seal broke, he wouldn’t stop fighting. He’d gladly give up on his humanity to keep his loved ones safe: if he had to turn into a monster, so be it.