The Laws of Werewolf Hunting

Chapter 10 New World

The door opened a crack, revealing half of Joe Marney's face.

After seeing Clayton at a glance, he quickly opened the door, then turned around nervously, as if he was wary of something.

Seeing how energetic he was, Clayton was also relieved.

The shot just now had the risk of killing Joe, but Joe was always lucky.

He stretched out his hand to the side, brought in the paralyzed harpies without bleeding, and closed the door.

"Lieutenant, have you ever seen such a ghost?"

Joe asked with his back to Clayton, who pointed his gun warily at the squirming stump on the ground.

The monstrous hand on the tip of the truncated wing was trying to crawl on the ground.

Clayton looked at the unconscious Harpy, and was disappointed to find that the main body might not be as active as this severed limb:

"I think I have."

Joe didn't see the body in Clayton's hand, but he could still feel the increasingly strong smell.

"Damn, why is it getting more and more stinky?"

"Probably because of it."

Clayton threw the harpies to the ground, and the severed limb touched it, but it didn't recognize where it was at all, but still grasped mechanically, grabbing more feathers from its body.

Creighton frowned at this ferocity.

He remembered the scene of the cremation of the newly dead, those who had been judged to be corpses would twitch in the flames.

Joe next to him sat down on the ground, and he realized that Creighton had brought the monster in.

He also served as a soldier, but when he joined the army, he had never even seen a normal enemy, let alone such a monster.

This panicked performance made Clayton a little impatient.

Like this, seeing his werewolf form might be acceptable?

Retaining the human part of a monster is even more disgusting than being all monsters.

That's gross profanity.

Just looking at the head, the face of this harpy is still a young and beautiful girl, but the rotten bird body underneath and the deformed organs preserved in the details make this beauty completely lost.

If Clayton was also a werewolf with a wolf body and a head, he might not be able to accept it.

Thinking of this, he was a bit tolerant for the time being: "Joe, didn't you work as a prisoner-of-war camp guard before, try to see if you can ask something from it."

"It?" Joe compared the Harpy's body with the muzzle of the gun in disbelief: "Can I ask?"

"It has a head anyway. Take it, and we'll move."

Clayton had doubts about the safety of the place. Although no one noticed him shooting, the escaped coachman might come back with the sheriff who patrolled at night to check:
Joe glanced at his gun, and the shattered window behind him, then looked back at the bullet holes in the wall.

This is a rented house.

"Ok."

Soon, they moved the Harpy to a remote, abandoned building nearby.

In the dark and dusty space, the sound of the surging waves outside was clearly audible, but it inexplicably gave off a deep sense of silence, and the breathing became wet.

This is the dock area on the edge of Sasha City.

However, because landslides on both sides of the canal blocked the waterway, it was difficult for slightly larger ships to pass through. Over time, the wharf and some surrounding warehouses and factories were abandoned. Only homeless people and some criminals would choose to hide here.

Clayton went to the door to warn outsiders approaching, leaving Qiao Mani to work in the warehouse.

Holding the candlestick in one hand and the revolver in the other, Joe faced the bound monster, recalling his previous experience.

"tell me your name."

It didn't seem to help, and the eagle with the woman's head looked at him.

Joe thought about it, and asked again in Taunton.

"Tell me your name."

The harpies suddenly opened their eyes wide, and two lines of tears flowed down its face.

Joe's expression froze, and the vivid emotion on that face made him temporarily ignore other inhuman parts:
He turned his head and shouted, "Lieutenant, something is wrong here?"

Clayton Bello turned in from outside the door carrying a heavy rifle: "What do you mean?"

"It looks like a person."

Clayton leaned against the door with his rifle in his arms, and plucked the barrel like a harp with his fingers. Seeing the tears on the Harpy's young face and disgusting body, he felt agitated for some reason.

He is a werewolf, but he is also a human being, so what is this guy?
Not even a human body.

"Haven't you read the Poems of Lyasius? They're always deceiving."

"But it's crying." There was panic in Jo's voice.

"It's better to look like a human, which means it knows to be afraid. Ask it where its owner is."

Joe Mani turned around and relayed Clayton's question in Totonian.

The Harpy opened her mouth, but she didn't make any sound. She even forcibly made an expression that could be called a smile while she burst into tears.

Before Joe could speak this time, Clayton pointed his gun at it, determined to get this done quickly:
"Speak, or die."

Because of his experience in the army in the Loran War, he also learned Towton, but not as good as Joe.

The banshee's tears welled up again, dripping down her chin,

It has a big mouth, and the face of a young woman is twisted, trying to tilt its head forward.

"Damn it!" Clayton suddenly lowered his gun.

Just now, it was too far away to see its face clearly, so it didn't feel like shooting. Now Clayton couldn't figure out the state at that moment, and an unexplained emotion made him unable to shoot.

He took a few seconds to calm down, squatted aside, and pressed the Harpy's cheeks to force it to speak:
"You better say something, or else"

He stopped, and his fingers retracted as if they had been shocked.

In the wide open mouth of the woman's head, where the tongue should have been, there was only a little tangled mass of flesh, and a few teeth were missing.

She can no longer speak.

"Are you human?" Creighton pushed the feathers under the neck, there was a circle of purple-black marks, and the edges had begun to fester severely.

"Harpy" nodded, and then looked at the gun in Joe Mani's hand, his eyes full of longing.

Clayton stood up, turned around, and Joe took a step back from his gaze.

"You kill her."

Joe thought he hadn't heard clearly: "What?"

Without further explanation, Clayton took the gun from his hand and shot back without looking back.

The woman's head fell back and hit the vacant rusted iron frame behind, but the sound was insignificant compared to the gunfire.

"Come on, we're wasting our efforts."

Clayton tightened his collar, threw away the revolver, then lifted his rifle from the ground, slung it over his shoulder, and walked out.

Joe looked at him, but did not follow.

The night outside the abandoned warehouse was quiet, with only a little moonlight shining.

Clayton's tawny eyes glowed.

He walked back along the original road alone. He didn't know how long he walked, but there were more and more residential houses on the road.

"Good evening, do you need help?"

At the end of the street, a man stopped in front.

He is wearing a long black trench coat and beanie, and he is holding an excited-looking dog on a leash and a cane in the other.The badge on his chest identifies him as a Sheriff.

Clayton raised his left hand, put it under his nose, and sniffed.

The taste is really strong.

"No, I just finished fishing and was going home."

In order to prevent the barrel from being exposed due to the reflection of the barrel, Creighton's Conqueror rifle was covered with a thick black cloth cover, and he was not worried that the other party would see what it was.

"Night fishing, you are really interested."

The sheriff nodded: "But it's so late, even St. Mellon Parish is not safe. There seems to be a shooting incident just ahead. It's really not safe. I'd better walk with you for a while."

Any further denial would look suspicious.

"Thank you very much." Clayton said, he smelled the sheriff's smell of a coachman hired by him, and it was logical for the other party to track it down based on the smell.

As he walked forward, the man's dog came up to sniff his shoes, but didn't bark.

Dogs and wolves are animals, and Creighton can control them.

The sheriff let out a chuckle:
"You're welcome, we darkborn should help each other."

Clayton's eyes tightened.

He'd just done something that pissed him off, so he was more irritable than usual.

"Darkborn? Is this some new vocabulary?"

"Not neologisms, but theological vocabulary."

The sheriff walked leisurely with the dog, as if not worried about Clayton's sneak attack from the side.

"You don't know that, do you?"

"I don't understand." Clayton guessed the relationship between the other party and the Holy Grail Society,
He clutched the sling of his gun with one hand, ready to fight.

"Don't be nervous, my name is Gayled, and I have been the sheriff of this city since four years ago. I usually maintain the kingdom's laws, but I will also help dark descendants like you hide."

Galid tilted his head and looked at Clayton from the corner of his eye for a second or two, then turned his head again.

"Especially in the recent period, there have been many newborns like you who don't understand anything, which has caused me a lot of trouble."

Creighton seemed to have received a heavy hammer in his heart:
Such an important institution as the sheriff has actually been mixed with inhuman existence, and it existed a long time ago!

If what this man said is true, what kind of city does he live in? !
He glanced back, glad Joe hadn't followed.

"This is beyond my belief, can you prove your identity?"

Hearing his question, Gayled did not respond directly.

"We are not familiar with each other yet, so this is a secret. But if you are interested, you can come to the General Security Department to find me tomorrow. I can answer some of your questions."

Gelid's footsteps stopped suddenly, and in front of them was No. 214 Mercy Street.

There was a lot of shards of glass falling out of Joe Marney's windows.

"It's in our nature to unleash our power, but don't take it too far."

Gelled looked at Clayton seriously: "The elders of this city don't want to break the peace again. Chaos will make our business impossible."

"It's not the old era anymore."

(End of this chapter)