We were finally cutting through the central nave of the library, the last major hurdle before the rear exit that led straight to the Sunken Garden. I could almost see it in my mind—the quiet, overgrown stone stairs and the smell of jasmine that masked the decay.
But just then, a sound vibrated through the floorboards, a low-frequency rumble that made my remaining teeth ache.
"Grrr..."
We stopped.
"Something is there." Lyra said while trying to find the source of the sound.
From behind a row of towering history tomes, a massive, humanoid figure detached itself from the darkness. It stood nearly eight feet tall, its back hunched under the weight of corded, powerful muscle.
It had elongated claws that scraped against the marble floor, and two yellowish fangs protruded from its lower jaw, dripping with a thick, viscous saliva. Its entire body was covered in coarse, silver-grey fur that seemed to shimmer in the dim mana-light.
"A w-werewolf?"
Shit!
I just wanted to get to the other side without encountering anything, but the universe was clearly through with being generous.
In the original, werewolves weren't even a thing. Dungeons were supposed to be filled with Orcs, Goblins, and the occasional Drake. So how the fuck was there a six-hundred-pound pile of silver fur and muscle standing in front of us?
The logic of the world wasn't just breaking; it was being rewritten in real-time.
"Grrrrrr...!"
The werewolf snarled, a sound that felt like a vibration in my very marrow, and rushed toward us. Every step was so heavy that the floorboards groaned, and I could feel a rhythmic tremor through the soles of my boots.
"Back off, trash!" Lyra barked.
She didn't have a sword drawn yet—she usually conjured her weapon at the moment of impact to save mana—but the air around her right hand was already crystallization into a jagged, ethereal blue.
The beast reached us in three strides. It reared up, a towering shadow of death, and brought its massive, clawed hand down in a vertical strike meant to split us both in two.
Lyra didn't flinch. Just as the claws whistled through the air, she pivoted on her heel, her body becoming a blur of silver-blue light. She avoided the strike by a hair's breadth, the wind of the blow whipping her hair across her face.
As she slid behind the beast's exposed back, an ice rapier materialized in her grip, glowing with a frigid, predatory light. She poured her mana into the blade and swung it with a lethal arc, aiming to hamstring the monster's right leg.
CRACK.
I expected the limb to fly off. I expected the "Ice Empress" to end this in one move.
But the blade didn't cut through. It bit into the silver fur, sinking only an inch into the hide before getting lodged in the unnaturally dense muscle. The werewolf didn't even flinch—its skin was like flexible steel.
"What—?" Lyra's eyes widened.
She tried to wrench the blade free, her knuckles whitening, but she was too slow. The werewolf didn't even turn around; it simply lashed out with the back of its hand in a blind, brutal sweep.
THUD!
The impact was sickening. Lyra was blown off her feet, her body trailing a wave of cold, crystalline air as she slammed into a nearby marble pillar. The stone cracked behind her head, and she slumped to the ground.
The sword that was left in the werewolf's leg shattered into a thousand useless fragments.
"Cough!"
A spray of crimson hit the white rug. Lyra clutched her side, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. The 'Zero Healing' she had placed on me must have drained more of her reserves than she let on.
The werewolf turned slowly, its eyes fixed on the fallen "Empress," then shifted to me.
I was alone. I was "Trash." But that doesn't mean I had nothing.
I looked at the beast, then at the shattered books around me. My hand went into the pocket of my tattered uniform.
"Hey, doggy," I rasped, stepping forward, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. "You've got a big mouth for something that looks like a rug with an attitude problem."
I had the art of provocation down to a science—it was the only weapon a 'nobody' like me had ever truly mastered.
But then again, it was still a massive gamble. If this guy was just a mindless beast that couldn't grasp my words, then my death was inevitable.
"You seem to bark a lot for a stray," I sneered, narrowing my eyes. "Is that all you can do? Scare girls and break furniture? Honestly, I've seen scarier things in my life than just a big dog."
The werewolf's ears twitched. It lowered its head. It didn't just see me as food; it was starting to see me as an annoyance.
"What are you... doing?" Lyra wheezed from the floor, her hand pressed against the crack in the pillar, as she tried to stand up.
Sheesh.
I didn't even look back at her. I just raised my hand and placed a finger in front of my mouth, a gesture of silent authority that probably felt surreal coming from a guy like me.
"Shut up, I'm negotiating," I repeated, my eyes locked on the amber orbs of the predator. "It's not like you can use another one of those flash-freeze moves. You're running on empty, remember?"
Lyra froze, her breath hitching in a mix of pure, unadulterated fury and genuine shock. No one talked to the Ice Empress like that—least of all a "trash" noble who was supposed to be trembling in his boots.
But I didn't have time to stroke her ego. I could see the werewolf's shoulder muscles rippling, its silver fur standing on end as its patience evaporated.
"And don't even think about it," I added, sensing her mana flaring up in a desperate attempt to rejoin the fray. "It's not like you can just remove the 'Zero Healing' from my face to gain some mana back."
Hearing me, her eyes widened in realization.