Ch-8 Demon hunter Constantine!

Bang!

The shot exploded, the pellets ripping through the werewolf's head.

"Lost soul, return to the embrace of the Lord," Ryan muttered, slowly extending his hand.

A flash of light appeared 'Sacrifice!' Werewolf's body instantly vanished. Ryan felt a surge of power, though less intense than the last time.

Obviously, as his strength grew, it took more energy to improve, and each sacrifice brought diminishing returns.

He holstered his weapon, his gaze steady. "God forgives all sins, but it's my job to send these sinners to Him."

The militiamen who had witnessed Ryan so easily dispatch a werewolf stared in shock, fear, and disbelief.

A powerful werewolf had been defeated in a matter of moments - it felt surreal, like a dream.

"Can I go in now?" Ryan asked, noticing the awe and reverence in their eyes. The nature of this world was clear: strength was admired.

In a peaceful time, these people might have feared his power, but now, with their lives threatened by werewolves, he was a savior.

"Please, come in!" The militia leader finally responded, ordering his men to clear the way.

They looked at Ryan with cautious admiration, and the leader couldn't resist asking.

"Are you... the legendary demon hunter Constantine?"

Constantine? Ryan paused, but didn't deny it. In this unfamiliar world, an assumed identity might help him blend in.

When the militiamen saw that he didn't deny the name, their eyes lit up with surprise and joy.

Constantine the Demon Hunter! His fame as a monster slayer stretched across the southern continent.

If this man was really Constantine, their village might just be saved.

"Where is the werewolf?"

"Did you kill the werewolves?"

"Stop these cursed beasts!"

There was a commotion as a crowd armed with torches and pitchforks rushed over. An older man, who appeared to be in his fifties, stepped forward with a grave expression on his face.

"Village Chief, a werewolf just appeared, but he killed it!" the militia leader reported excitedly.

"Killed?" The village chief was stunned and looked at them in disbelief.

Did they really think he was stupid enough to believe they had killed a werewolf?

"Chief, this is the famous demon hunter Constantine," the militia leader insisted, leading the chief toward Ryan.

"The werewolf was killed by him!"

"Constantine?" The villagers murmured, eyeing Ryan with a mixture of suspicion and excitement. Most looked hopeful.

The presence of werewolves had kept the village on edge for far too long; they attacked indiscriminately, and villagers died from time to time.

Their hope for survival had faded, and they knew it was only a matter of time before their village was overrun.

Now, with so many witnesses to Ryan's heroics, the villagers couldn't help but believe that he might be the savior they needed.

"Mr. Constantine, you must save this village! We'll give you everything we have," someone in the crowd pleaded.

Surrounded by a sea of eager faces, Ryan found himself in a somewhat awkward situation, unprepared for the villagers' fervor.

He glanced at the village chief and noticed a cautious expression on his face. The chief didn't seem happy to see him.

'Interesting, Ryan thought. There are secrets in this village.'

Supported by the enthusiastic villagers, Ryan was escorted to the best inn in the village.

"Mr. Constantine, it's late; please stay here tonight," said the innkeeper, a friendly middle-aged man.

"We are preparing for tomorrow's hunt. This is our best room. We'll bring you a meal soon."

Ryan looked at the innkeeper and sighed. "I have no money," he admitted.

The innkeeper waved his hand dismissively. "You killed a werewolf, which makes you the hero of our village. All your expenses here will be covered. All we ask is that you help us rid the village of these cursed werewolves."

As the innkeeper spoke, he suddenly gave Ryan a knowing smile. "Rest well, Mr. Constantine. Enjoy this beautiful night."