Chapter 200: The Seasoned Hunter

George considered himself someone who had experienced a miracle, but he had never thought that he would be the only one to witness the Lord’s miracle.

So when he saw Hode — whose body had been hollowed out until only the heart and frame remained — gradually grow new organs, his surprise lasted only a moment. He then carried the Sacred Cross on his back, took Hode, and returned to Holy Land Town.

Compared to the marquis’s castle, now nothing more than a barren ruin after being bombarded by the heavenly rain of arrows, Holy Land Town at least still had houses to shelter from wind and rain.

On the first day, Hode’s heart began to beat powerfully, pumping blood like a sudden flood, staining the ground beneath into a pool of blood.

On the third day, granulation tissue began to grow at the severed wounds, scabs formed over the scars on his skin, and the newly grown flesh covered the heart, leaving only the trembling chest to show that it still beat vigorously.

On the seventh day, his throat had healed, a small stomach pouch hung in his abdomen, and a strange little tongue had formed in his mouth. After some hesitation, George began feeding him boiled, mashed meat.

On the thirteenth day, Hode’s eyelids had healed, swelling slightly as if eyeballs were already forming underneath. The gouged abdomen was covered by a thin membrane, faintly revealing some small internal organs inside. On this day, the clouds George had blasted open above Holy Land Town closed once again, shrouding the sky.

On the sixteenth day, Hode’s body had completely healed, and George took him down from the Sacred Cross.

When the Morning Star rose on the seventeenth day, Hode’s chest rose and fell — he had begun to breathe.

On the twenty-second day, fully recovered, Hode opened his eyes, just as Leo and Vito arrived at Holy Land Town.

…

Night fell over the dark Holy Land Town.

The four sat together around a bonfire.

Though the spring breeze was already blowing, this land still bore the scars of the Wolf Catastrophe, showing no signs of life’s renewal.

They did not stay in the fortress.

Hode had once been bound in the castle, enduring pain and loneliness; now that he was free, he preferred open spaces.

In a calm voice, Hode recounted what he had seen in the castle before his eyes were gouged out.

There was nothing special, except that it told the three that the Wolf King’s name was Ymir.

After his eyes were taken, pain completely filled his consciousness — pain beyond words, without sight, sound, smell, or any sense of his body’s organs, magnified countless times over.

George, Leo, and Vito listened silently, and after he finished, they described to Hode the current state of York Territory.

Hode listened quietly and then said, “I want to catch up to that Wolf King Ymir, kill him, and then meet the bishop.”

George replied, “Ymir is very strong. In your current state, you cannot kill him.”

He was blunt.

He had fought Ymir before. Even without clashing directly with Ymir’s true body, the colossal wolf’s condensed afterimage, towering like a mountain, had been enough to prove Ymir’s might.

And having watched Hode’s recovery, he knew well that Hode’s physical strength was nowhere near comparable.

Hode looked at George and said, “I come from the Northern Kingdom. There, every grown man is a warrior — and a hunter. For a pure northern warrior, the first trial at the age of twelve is to hunt an ice-field wolf alone.”

“Ice-field wolves are stronger than the wild wolves of the grasslands. They can fight tigers and brown bears. No twelve-year-old could kill one — but I did. I tracked that wolf, watching it from afar, studying its patterns, until I laid a trap. Once it was caught, I shot it with arrows, pinning it to the ground. Then I approached and cut off its head with an axe.”

“Now, Ymir is far stronger than that ice-field wolf — but I am also far stronger than I was at twelve.”

“For northerners, anything that can be called prey — even a dragon — will not make us back down. We will always find a way to hunt it.”

Lowering his head slightly, Hode stared into the firelight, already thinking about how to hunt Ymir.

George shook his head. “I’d still suggest you return to the Church. But you are free — I cannot stop you.”

Leo and Vito exchanged glances before Vito spoke. “When we came, the bishop asked me to bring a message to Captain Hode.”

George and Hode both looked over.

Vito’s expression turned solemn. “Hatred can bring strength, but it can also destroy oneself. May you keep your self intact in the tempering of hatred.”

“Your will is firm. Even in endless agony, you held on to life. You have not achieved great merit, but you fulfilled your duty as captain of the Temple Warriors. You have shown future Temple Warriors what it means to be a qualified captain — and that is worthy of praise.”

“Thus, you will be promoted to knight. Guardian Knights exist to protect — but the flames of hatred in your heart have never gone out. You are more suited to punish evil. Therefore, you shall become a Punishing Knight.”

“From now on, you must often recite the Holy Scriptures, and keep yourself in hatred’s midst. This punishment is not only to punish sin — but to remind yourself to never be consumed by it.”

Then Vito smiled. “Congratulations, Captain Hode. Or rather, Knight Hode.”

Hode lowered his head slightly in silence.

Vito continued, “We’ve also brought your knight’s armor and a Holy Relic.”

At his words, Leo handed Hode a wooden box.

The moment his hand touched it, Hode felt a strange sense of blood-deep connection.

Opening it, he saw a bow inlaid with a black gemstone.

When he picked it up hesitantly, he felt it breathe in rhythm with his heartbeat.

Yet, from the bow came a faint sense of reluctance.

George was surprised. “This bow?”

The other three looked at him.

George went on, “It was arrows from this bow that repelled Ymir and saved you. In the daytime, you can see the pillar of Morning Star light from that direction — that’s the hole in the clouds torn open by this bow. Even now, it hasn’t closed.”

He pointed toward the place where Ymir’s incarnation had been destroyed.

“I didn’t expect the bishop to send this. Seems he approves of your decision.”

Hode looked again at the bow in his hands and murmured, “I see…”

George nodded. “Of course — it’s the bishop.”

Then he said, “Since you’re healed, I’ll keep moving forward.”

Hode asked, “Where to?”

George answered, “The Werewolves’ Paradise. I can’t stop thinking about what Flint and Ymir said about that place — there might still be thirty thousand survivors there.”

He looked at Leo and Vito. “And you two? Any plans?”

They shook their heads. Vito said, “The bishop only told us to bring Captain Hode his armor and Holy Relic. No other instructions.”

Then added, “But since you mentioned Paradise, I’d also like to know what that Werewolves’ Paradise really is.”

Leo agreed.

The next day, after the Morning Star rose, Hode donned the Punishing Knight’s armor, shouldered the box with the Holy Relic, and set off toward the Morning Star’s light piercing the clouds.

Compared to Guardian Knight armor, Punishing Knight armor was lighter. In exchange, the single-handed axe given to Hode was thicker and heavier.

Hode did not ride a horse — he said a seasoned hunter needs a hound, not a steed.

George, Leo, and Vito followed the guidance George received through the Prayer Technique, riding toward their destination.

…

North of the territory occupied by Baron Belair.

Graywind Fortress.

Graywind Fortress had been built to guard against Dark Creatures from the Northwind Mountains, and was large enough to garrison three hundred soldiers.

It was now where Knight Julian was stationed — the front line against the werewolves.

There were no villages left here. Julian’s forces could not guard every stretch of the front line. After stabilizing the situation, he ordered all commoners to migrate southward.

Watchtowers had been built here like nails driven into the land. Any werewolf attacking a tower or trying to pass through to reach the civilians behind would be intercepted, split, and slaughtered.

Previously, Julian had led over seven hundred elite fighters — five hundred-plus mercenaries from York Territory and more than two hundred under Knight Bedi — intending to push north and completely clear the area.

But the werewolves resisted with insane ferocity, somehow summoning over two thousand Lower-Ranked Werewolves and more than a thousand Transformed Werewolves, halting the advance.

Later, as Upper-Ranked Werewolves grew in number, they led counterattacks that even pushed Julian’s army back. Only Graywind Fortress’s sturdy walls allowed them to hold.

Julian regretted it, but also knew he could ask Puniel for reinforcements — Upper-Ranked Werewolves were amassing in the north, and under their command, the Lower-Ranked Werewolves fought in disciplined unity.

The front stalled.

In daily skirmishes, Julian noticed fewer Transformed Werewolves but more Upper-Ranked Werewolves — so many he suspected that all of the Nation of Werewolves’ upper ranks had gathered in the north.

Finding this abnormal, he informed Puniel, who said bluntly that he intended to advance south. Given the werewolves’ state in the north, Puniel guessed he could push quickly — and told Julian to watch the battle closely.

Without the Church’s white doves, they could only send messages by horse — and once battle began, there would be no time for couriers.

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