Chapter 5
"What is this?"
"Different bloodlines should devour each other. How is he keeping both alive?"
The Veteran-ranked werewolves had never seen anything like it.
They circled Giles as if they'd discovered some rare specimen, examining him without a shred of restraint.
Giles knew exactly what they were sensing. One bloodline was his own. The other had come from Simon.
"A lesser bloodline suppressing a superior one," the leader murmured. "That should be impossible."
His mouth curled into a thin smile.
"And it's strangling both your strength and your potential. Allow me to fix that."
He vanished.
Giles never even saw him move.
A heartbeat later, black claws pressed against the side of his neck. The tips barely broke the skin, but something scalding flooded into his veins.
A third bloodline.
The three forces collided inside him.
Giles clutched his throat and crashed to his knees.
His thoughts scattered. His vision swam, and the same sickening vertigo he'd felt when absorbing Simon's blood came surging back.
"Ah—!"
He writhed in the snow, his eyes flickering between clear gray and bloodred.
Through the haze, he heard the werewolf leader's rough voice.
"Let's see which bloodline comes out on top."
The struggle dragged on.
Little by little, Giles's expression changed. The pain remained, but something colder rose beneath it. His features hardened, and when his eyes finally steadied, they held none of his old uncertainty.
The werewolf leader watched with interest.
"So the buried bloodline was the stronger one after all."
The man wearing Giles's body raised his head.
Then he dropped to one knee.
"I wish to return to the wolfkin and serve under you."
The leader nodded, satisfied.
"Good. Your bloodline is strong enough to earn that privilege."
None of the other werewolves objected.
Their society honored blood above all else, and the newcomer was already a Veteran. In single combat, most of them likely couldn't have beaten him.
What intrigued them more was how he had survived with multiple bloodlines packed into one body.
"Your name?" the leader asked.
The figure bowed his head.
"Simon. I was once a Lord—an outsider who descended into this world from another realm. I awakened a werewolf bloodline."
"Lord?" one of the younger werewolves echoed.
Their leader knew the term.
The werewolf clans ruled vast territories, and word of the outsiders who had arrived nearly two weeks ago had already reached them.
The Lords possessed strange abilities, but most were too weak to trouble the greater native races. Some civilizations had simply exterminated every Lord that appeared within their borders.
A Lord carrying a true werewolf bloodline, however, was worth a closer look.
"And the two bloodlines inside you?" the leader asked.
Werewolf history held no record of an inferior bloodline suppressing a stronger one.
This Lord was an anomaly.
"I was betrayed," Simon replied. "Someone forcibly absorbed my bloodline. Your gift let me suppress his inferior blood and reclaim control."
He kept his head bowed, hiding the smile spreading across his face.
Simon had died—but his bloodline had survived.
Giles had absorbed it into his own body, and in doing so, had unknowingly preserved the last fragment of Simon's consciousness.
Without Giles, Simon would never have gotten this chance to return.
It wasn't true possession.
Simon had simply used the bloodline conflict to suppress Giles's consciousness and seize control of their shared body.
What they were now was closer to two minds trapped in the same flesh.
Simon couldn't kill Giles without killing himself.
For now, his goal was simpler.
He would bury Giles so deep that he never clawed his way back to the surface.
The werewolf leader seemed to grasp the situation.
"You still can't fully consume the weaker bloodline."
Simon nodded.
If Giles consumed Simon, Giles would survive.
If Simon destroyed Giles, they would both die.
His hold remained unstable.
"Grant me more of your blood," Simon begged. "I will serve you without hesitation. No command will go unanswered."
More powerful werewolf blood was the only way to keep Giles suppressed for good.
"Interesting."
The leader seemed willing to indulge the experiment. He wanted to see what this strange Lord body would become.
Without hesitation, he sliced open his own palm.
Hot black blood spattered onto the snow, hissing as it melted the ice beneath.
Simon dropped to all fours and lapped it up with desperate hunger.
The surrounding werewolves roared with laughter.
Then the laughter died.
Simon's aura began to climb.
Tier 2 Veteran.
Tier 3 Veteran.
Tier 4 Veteran.
...
The power surged through him without pause until it crested at Tier 9 Veteran.
Giles's bloodline and consciousness were crushed beneath the overwhelming force. He could no longer move, speak, or resist.
Aside from the leader himself, Simon was now the strongest werewolf present.
The others stared at him in disbelief.
The blood their leader had given him had been converted directly into EXP by the System.
A normal werewolf who inherited a superior bloodline needed months—years, even—to refine it, stabilize it, and unlock its full power.
Simon had skipped the entire process.
The leader looked pleased.
"You've taken in more than your body can properly control. Take some time to adapt before you throw that strength around."
Simon dropped to one knee, barely containing his excitement.
"Thank you, Commander. You've given me a second life."
"I have a task for you," the leader said. "Complete it well, and I'll grant you more of my blood."
"I won't fail."
The leader glanced at the other werewolves.
"Take them with you. At your current strength, they should be more than enough."
His gaze swung toward the frozen mountains.
"Conquer every Frost Sabertooth in this region."
"Yes, Commander."
There was one more order.
Every Lord in the area was to be captured alive.
After witnessing Simon's transformation, the commander had developed a keen interest in these outsiders and their System-granted abilities.
Simon led the werewolves back out into the storm.
As the wind screamed across the snowfield, he savored the power flooding through his borrowed body.
Hatred burned behind his bloodred eyes.
"Lilith," he whispered. "Are you ready for me?"