The giant insect's words made Glen pause his offensive and quickly create distance. His mind was racing, trying to figure out a strategy. But this wasn't going to be easy. The creature's abilities clearly involved powerful magic, and as someone who wasn't well-versed in the arcane, Glen felt at a disadvantage.
The insect's voice echoed, smooth and hypnotic. "How pitiful. You people are always so cautious, so indecisive. In the end, you'll fail. Why not throw away those useless human weaknesses and join me? I'll give you a future beyond your wildest imagination…"
Glen suddenly felt his head spin, an overwhelming urge rising within him to accept the offer. It was as if everything would fall into place if he just agreed. Everything would become beautiful, effortless.
But before that temptation could fully take hold, Glen violently shook his head. The sensation felt wrong, too artificial, and his hardened soul rejected it instinctively.
The insect seemed surprised. "What?! Your mental resistance is... strong!?"
Glen massaged his temple, irritation flickering in his eyes. "You magic users are always such a pain. Looks like I'll have to get serious."
"Serious?" The insect's tone dripped with condescension. "You should be thinking about how you're going to die, not getting serious."
But something changed in the air. The insect's many eyes trembled in unease as Glen's body began to swell, his clothes ripping as his form grew to a towering two-meter-tall werewolf. This should've been the end, but the air around him crackled with magic energy, and Glen's transformation didn't stop there. His body kept growing, his muscles swelling until he stood at a monstrous four meters tall, cloaked in a dark, ominous aura.
"Level 4? Level 5 Werewolf!?" The insect's voice faltered for the first time, disbelief in every syllable.
For nearly a thousand years, it had seen many powerful werewolves, but never one with such a strange aura—one whose transformations seemed to evolve in stages.
"Here to take your life," Glen growled in a voice that echoed like a demon's.
The insect's arrogance faltered, replaced by genuine fear. But it wasn't the type to back down so easily. It quickly expelled white, thread-like substances that spread across the battlefield like a vast, creeping tide, trying to ensnare Glen.
But Glen's strength was beyond measure. With just a few mighty swipes of his claws, he tore through the mass of threads, scattering them into the wind and causing the ground to shudder beneath him.
The insect, sensing it was being overpowered, immediately summoned several different types of magical circles around itself—some for defense, others for offense. Chaos ensued as fire, acid, ice, and destructive magic rained down upon Glen.
The attacks were relentless, each one more potent than the last. It was clear that evasion was impossible; Glen had no choice but to endure. His body, however, was built for this. As a werewolf, he naturally had a degree of magical resistance. His current form only amplified that, making the magic less effective than it seemed.
Glen didn't flinch. He was only looking for the right moment, waiting for a chance to strike.
The insect's magic was powerful, but its endurance was limited. As the battle wore on, it began to show signs of wear. Every time Glen's claws struck, the insect's body regenerated quickly, protected by multiple layers of defense magic and enhanced skin. The insect's natural magic reserves seemed endless, a racial trait passed down through generations.
This battle of attrition would eventually work against Glen. His form was energy-intensive, and if he couldn't finish this soon, he would tire and lose.
Yet, Glen remained unfazed. The magic that rained down on him didn't do significant damage. He was a creature of the wild, a magical beast whose resistance to magic was much higher than the average werewolf. He was testing his opponent, probing for weaknesses, searching for the critical opening.
Meanwhile, the children trapped in the insect's abdomen began to show signs of suffering. The threads clinging to their skin glowed faintly, clearly draining their life energy, just as the insect had boasted.
Glen caught sight of this and his eyes narrowed. He couldn't waste any more time.
He shifted tactics. With swift movements, he dodged, drawing the insect's attention, and exposed his own vulnerabilities. As expected, the insect reacted just as Glen had hoped—its massive jaws opened wide, gathering power for a devastating breath attack.
In the split second before the attack could launch, Glen thrust his tail into the ground to propel himself forward, aiming straight at the insect's gaping mouth.
Before the insect could react, Glen shoved his hand into its mouth, interrupting the magic it had been gathering. The insect tried to bite down, its jaws snapping shut with terrifying force, but it couldn't break Glen's thick, enhanced werewolf arm.
It suddenly realized something crucial—it had failed to account for the sheer physical power of a Level 5 werewolf. But it wasn't finished yet. The insect's mind raced, realizing its own defenses weren't equipped to deal with this kind of raw strength.
However, it was too late.
With a violent jerk, Glen ripped apart the insect's mouth, and as he did, he injected a potent, controlled wolf venom into its body through the wound.
The venom spread rapidly, disrupting the insect's internal systems. It screamed in agony, its magical abilities faltering under the toxic assault.
"Stop… please…" The insect's voice trembled as it tried in vain to shake off the pain, its body writhing uncontrollably.
The venom acted like a parasite, spreading through its cells and consuming them from the inside out. The insect struggled, but its efforts were futile. Its massive body collapsed, the convulsions growing weaker with each passing second.
Glen stepped back, his claws still sharp and ready. He watched as the insect's body slowly succumbed to the venom, its death agonizing and drawn-out. The poison would continue to ravage it from within until its very essence was consumed.
Once the creature finally stilled, Glen didn't waste any time. His focus shifted to the children trapped inside the insect's abdomen.
Glen could feel the dying creature's magic dissipating, and as it did, the hidden enchantments around the area began to fade. He knew the authorities would be arriving soon—likely Sheriff Dougly and his team. They must have been circling the area for some time, waiting for the magic to lift.
With little time to waste, Glen carefully began releasing the children from the sacs. One by one, the flesh balls ruptured, and the weak, frail bodies of the children fell to the ground. They were exhausted, their eyes glassy and filled with pain, but they were alive.
Glen worked quickly, releasing them all before the authorities arrived. As he finished, he heard distant shouts. It was the sound of Dougly's team, close by.
Sighing, Glen glanced over at the weakened children one last time. He pulled a tattered cloak from a dead body nearby and draped it over his shoulders, before slipping out of the scene without a second glance. His mind was already on the next task at hand.
Behind him, the children stared at his retreating form, confusion and gratitude in their eyes.
4o