Reincarnated into a Werewolf, the Demon Lord Servants Chapter 64

Injured or not, Heroes remained heroes.

Guooooooh!

The Hero roared as he approached, his knife ready to swing downwards. There was barely a sliver of the Heros magic left. I narrowly avoided the swing, its movent already dulled by his pain. I brush off his hand and push him down to the black floor.

Seeing that wed co this far, it was fair to assu that we were evenly matched. Both the Hero and I were risking our very lives in this battle. It was now rely a question of who would strike first; whether I would dig my fangs into his windpipe, or whether he would use that knife to stab in the neck before I had the chance to do so.

The well of physical strength the Hero held was just barely greater than my own, but he did nothing to hold down. Was he being vigilant, wary of the surrounding personal guards? The Hero had purposefully forgone slaying the guards, instead opting to use them as a ans to hinder the Demon Lords movent. Now, however, the very sa guards had beco the shackles that bound him.

While the conditions were optimal and could be nothing but advantageous, I had finally co this far and was now finally standing on even ground. Apart from the single lunge with the fangs that boasted the ac of my might, there was nothing I could do that would connect to the Hero.

On the other hand a single punch, a single kick from the Hero would be more than sufficient to deal imnse damage to . If my focus wavered for even a single mont, I would be knocked out and this would all be settled.

But there was no way I could stand the thought of losing. A big Hero, so what? I would never accept soone like him. I feigned a lunge, my fangs aiming for the Heros throat, then sunk them into the wrist of his right hand instead as he attempted to defend himself.

My teeth chomped down on the joints of his wrist. His right hand was useless now.

At that very mont, his left fist slams into with all of his strength behind it.

His strength was equal to a giants. For a mont, I could feel my consciousness starting to dim.

Coming back to my senses with sharp breath of air, the first thing I noticed was that the Hero was pinning down. Lost in his own rage, his face had contorted into a grimace.

You bastard!

This wasnt good.

He had pulled his left fist backward, as far as it would go. If I were to be on the receiving end of a punch with that much force behind it, there was no doubt that it would all be over.

The Hero had grabbed in a mounting position. I couldnt move a muscle, almost as if I was being pinned beneath a slab of rock. The guards around were readying their spears, but it was clear that they couldnt make it in ti.

Was this it?

While I had long since prepared myself for the eventuality of death, my vain struggle pushed to cast sorcery to counter him.

I was utterly incapable of using any sort of attack spells. Unlike the others, the only forms of magic available to were those that reinforced and healed the body.

So I used them.

I sohow managed to cast my spell a split second before his fist ca flying.

It was a healing spell borne of my desperate struggles. One that had been stripped down to its bare, rudintary elents.

Guoooooooh?!

The Hero let loose an anguished scream, unlike anything he had let out before. In pure agony, he alternated between cradling his right wrist and then his shin.

For a re mont, all of his movents ceased.

The magic I had cast was of a sort that amplified ones naturally-given regenerative properties, a kind of sorcery that gradually healed wounds. It was the sa magic that my master had used on that dog, the head commander of the Hell Beasts. It could be utilised with barely any amount of magic, but until the wound had fully healed it would accelerate the process of cell division to an abnormal degree, causing the wounded area to beco incredibly painful.

It wasnt a spell ant for practical use, and was instead regarded as nothing more than magic required to move on to the next stage.

The pulpy ss of a wound, courtesy of the fangs of a proper werewolf, coupled with this unnatural healing process was sure to bring about a pain of unimaginable magnitude. Any normal man would have fainted in a heartbeat.

The virtue of being a Hero was enough to keep him from losing consciousness, but it seed that even he couldnt bear to endure the sheer pain.

Giving my thanks to my master, I used this mont to my advantage.

I pushed the Heros body to the side, then weighed him down and pinned him to the floor. This was the one mont that gave even the slightest chance of victory.

I was going to end him.

I bit down on his windpipe. I let my werewolf fangs dig into his neck, then ripped out more than half of it. Blood gushed from the wound and sprayed about, clouding my vision in pure red.

I didnt even hear a scream.

I barely managed to prop myself up, almost smothered by the stench of the spouting geysers of blood. My breath was entwined with the tallic scent of blood.

I wiped my face clean and was greeted with the sight of the Hero as he writhed in an ocean of blood.

The most horrifying thing to see was that he was still attempting to rise to his feet. But as it so was with the loss of these large quantities of blood, his movents beca duller by the minute. Needless to say, the healing magic I had cast earlier was no longer enough to be of use to him.

Drowning in the massive sea of his own blood, the hero was close to drawing his final breath.

His eyes were forced wide open by his own fear and shock as they regarded . He heaved, blood escaping from between his lips. They moved as if he had sothing to say to . His left hand shook as it rose, the tip of his finger pointing towards .

I wondered what he was trying to say. I had no idea myself.

That was when I rembered that I had yet to introduce myself to him.

My na is Vaito. A simple aide.

I had no idea if my words had reached him. The mans hand dropped and sunk into the puddle of blood, and the light in his eyes vanished. These were the final monts of the Hero Arshes.

Having survived this ordeal, I stood there with the guards, basking in a while of silence. I staggered and leaned against the crumbling stone pillar.

Now fatigued, I was unable to further maintain my form as a werewolf. I found myself returning to my original human form against my own will. This was the first ti this had ever happened to .

My field of visions grew more and more narrow, then started to turn dark. I was starting to feel the recoil from the Fanatic Burn.

Still staggering, I made my way to the fallen Demon Lord. My body felt heavy. It was as if I was pulling along weights of pure stone.

Her Majesty didnt move. From what I could see from her magic, the light of her life had been completely snuffed out. No matter how skilled a sorcerer there was, it was impossible to treat her now.

I had wanted to at least be able to offer her so parting words.

But fact of the matter was that even I didnt know what would happen to now. I could feel my entire body shrieking in pain, an after-effect of the excessive boosts brought about by magic.

In the end, the words I offered the Demon Lord were in Japanese.

Ive avenged you, my Lady.

Demons no longer needed to fear the Hero. So I could only ask that they rest easy now.

My surroundings went dark. This was the first ti since my transformation into a werewolf, whose eyes could pierce through the blackest darkness, that I truly found myself in the embrace of the shadows.

My surroundings were plunged into a world of dark.

If I died here and now, would I be able to et the Demon Lord?

Those were my last thoughts

before my consciousness ceased to be.