65 Fight

Upon hearing the werewolf's furious and sorrowful howls, Wayne remained composed and responded calmly, "It may not be wrong to avenge the one you love, but involving innocent people and harming them is definitely not the right course of action. If you still possess human rationality, release the woodcutters you've captured, and I can help you find the murderers who harmed your wife. If you've become a murderer yourself, killing innocent people, then you are no different from the villains who hurt your wife."

The werewolf's anger intensified upon hearing these words. He roared through the wooden door, expressing his conviction, "Sure enough, you are all monsters without emotions, just like the legends. For revenge, I don't care if my hands are stained with blood. Those guys are not willing to cooperate with me at all. They are all accomplices who cover up the murderer. As long as I can't find the murderer that day, I will keep looking, even if I kill all the woodcutters around here, I will not hesitate."

Understanding that the werewolf's mind was clouded by rage and a desire for revenge, Wayne realized that this attack on the lumberjacks was not an isolated incident. It seemed that the werewolves had extended their hatred from the murderers to the entire group of lumberjacks, possibly due to the difficulty of pinpointing a few culprits among the vast crowd.

In response, Wayne silently fortified himself with an enhanced Quen shield, took an alchemy bomb from his belt with his left hand, and called out into the room, "In that case, werewolf, come out."

"Maybe revenge is just your excuse, and you simply enjoy killing," Wayne provocatively remarked in the face of the werewolf. Unable to suppress the destruction and impulse within, the werewolf roared, forcefully opened the door, and charged towards Wayne.

Wayne's gaze remained fixed as he swiftly hurled an alchemy bomb in his left hand toward the approaching werewolf. A muted explosion followed, not of gunpowder, but a substantial release of silver-white dust, forming a dense silver smoke that enveloped the werewolf in a fluorescent glow.

This was a moon dust bomb, crafted with silver powder as the primary ingredient, along with demeritium and other special herbal powders effective against magic or curse-formed monsters, as well as entities without normal shapes, like ghosts and evil spirits. Specifically, it was a bane for werewolves, continuously damaging their bodies and impairing their regenerative abilities, rendering them incapable of sustained combat.

The werewolf, struck mid-air, emitted a pained howl and angrily accused, "Despicable witcher!"

Unfazed, Wayne adhered to the Witcher's principles—employing all means such as poison, traps, and bombs when dealing with monsters. He wielded the silver sword, quickly sidestepping to evade the werewolf's claws. Seizing the opportunity, Wayne aimed for the werewolf's unprotected belly, where bones did not provide defense, and delivered a swift slash.

Successfully inflicting a bloody wound on the werewolf's flank, Wayne's cursed sword oil seeped into the wound, damaging the creature's internal organs. As a werewolf, lacking any martial arts practice, it could only rely on the wild instincts in its blood.

Despite emitting a roar filled with pain, the werewolf's movements continued unabated. Digging its claws into the ground, it forcibly twisted its body, swiftly launching two razor-sharp claw strikes at Wayne. Werewolves, known for their agility and strength, could wield their claws with the swiftness of a swordsman's slash.

Balancing the sword with both hands, Wayne strategically redirected the werewolf's claws, blocking the attacks. He then executed a powerful kick to the werewolf's wounded side, causing blood to spatter. The werewolf, in pain, wailed and stumbled back several steps.

Regaining his stance, Wayne swiftly drew an Igni sign in the air with his left hand and pushed it forward. A burst of flames enveloped the werewolf, igniting its weak hair and gray fur. The flames spread to its head, ears, and beard, intensifying its suffering.

In the grip of anger and fear, the werewolf frantically swung its claws, attempting to deter the Witcher from approaching. Wayne, however, kept his distance. Retrieving a Dragon's Dream bomb from his belt, he hurled it at the frenzied werewolf.

Upon impact, the bomb unleashed a powerful explosion, further fueling the flames. The flammable substance within Dragon's Dream not only intensified the fire on the werewolf but also blasted it to the ground, leaving its entire body charred.

Seizing the opportunity, Wayne swiftly advanced, exploiting the moment the werewolf's defenses were wide open. Gripping the silver sword with both hands, he delivered a forceful blow to the werewolf's heart.

Bones shattered, blood sprayed, and the sword cut through the werewolf's body with remarkable ease. Wayne experienced only a slight resistance as the sharp blade sliced through several ribs, reaching the heart protected by the bones.

The werewolf, now in excruciating pain, lost control of its body, staggering backward and eventually dropping to one knee. Covered in silver powder and engulfed in flames, its lower abdomen and heart bore severe wounds, causing immense suffering. Despite its werewolf resilience, such injuries proved overwhelming.

Kneeling on its left knee, the werewolf clutched its heart with a sharp claw, blood pouring from the wound along with broken internal organs and bone fragments. Its almost blinded eyes, burnt by flames, focused on Wayne with blurred vision. Gasping heavily, it spoke in a hoarse voice:

"Witcher, I am not a monster. I'm just a man seeking vengeance for his wife. I became so consumed by anger that I accidentally killed a few loggers. But I can't stop. If I die, who will avenge my wife, Paula? She was a good woman who didn't deserve what happened to her."

Wayne, still holding the silver sword, pointed its tip at the werewolf's head, releasing a heavy breath. Although the battle lasted only a few minutes, each moment was perilous.

If it weren't for the augmented strength provided by the Thunder Potion, Wayne wouldn't have been able to fend off the werewolf's claws. The thin chain mail he wore would have been insufficient to stop the sharp claws, risking serious injury or even death if struck on the abdomen or chest.

As Wayne observed the dying werewolf, he remained vigilant for any potential counterattack in its final moments. He inquired, "You're going to die soon, werewolf. Perhaps you can share the clues you discovered. After your death, I may bring justice to your wife by making those who harmed her pay the deserved price."

The werewolf, on the brink of death, responded with a bitter laugh, spitting out blood before speaking hoarsely, "There are no clues. What clues can I find in the vast forest? The only thing my wife mentioned was three assailants – one with a bald head, one with a black beard, and a thin man. I haven't discovered anything else."

Wayne, acknowledging the difficulty of solving such a crime in the wild, promised, "I will do my best to help you find the murderers and bring them to justice. Do you have any last wishes?"

In response, the werewolf raised his head, although his eyes, burned by flames, could no longer clearly see Wayne. He spoke in a sorrowful tone, "Witcher, my wife is buried in the yard. After killing me, please bury us together. If you find the murderer, come back to pay your respects and share the good news."

Wayne nodded, acknowledging the werewolf's plea. With a solemn expression, he looked at the werewolf, devoid of resistance, raised the silver sword, and mercifully ended its suffering.