The Laws of Werewolf Hunting

Chapter 325 Unforgettable Memories

The werewolf who had been lying on the ground suddenly moved. Before Pileg turned around, the werewolf's black arm had already penetrated his abdomen, making his hair wet and sticky.

The beast charged at the plate-armored soldier beside him, with the wizard unable to shout. If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he would never have thought that such a huge body could shrink into such a small ball. The soldier could hardly see the werewolf, but could only see Peleg stumbling towards him, and the wizard's body outline completely blocked the werewolf.

The plate-armored soldier dropped his torch and stabbed his sword straight into Peleg's chest, trying to pierce through both the commander and the werewolf, but the resistance of the sword was not like that of two bodies.

The wizard's body was not stopped by the sword, but instead crashed into the soldier, blocking his view.

He kicked his superior away without hesitation, and drew his sword to guard the front. The werewolf appeared at the bottom of his field of vision, crouching down and floating into his defense like a shadow.

The brave soldier immediately changed his stance. He grasped the sword with his gloved left hand and exerted force downward with his right hand.

The lead-filled weight ball hit the werewolf's back, leaving a dent immediately. But it did not stop, and continued to pounce on him, then with its two claws, the body wrapped in thick armor was forced to lie on the ground in a pool of blood.

It grabbed his hand from behind and twisted it to an angle that was not suitable for exerting force.

The wet breathing holes suffocated all shouting.

But how would a werewolf execute an invulnerable warrior?

It still has a way.

The werewolf picked up the soldier and walked towards a disemboweled body of a monster, and then his head was rammed into the monster's abdomen, the pile of internal organs mixed with mucus, and the liquid and elastic flesh blocked every gap in his helmet. He finally understood what this method was and began to struggle hard, but every resistance was easily suppressed by the werewolf. It even just sat on his back, without any other additional actions.

Half a minute later, the warrior finally lost all ability to move due to suffocation.

Clayton, who had regained his senses, stood up from his back and looked at his savior with mixed feelings.

Chud Osmar.

They were mortal enemies, but now they have to rely on each other. Clayton can't help but sigh at the fickleness of fate.

"It's amazing that you can clear the demonic influence from me in an instant. How did you do it?" He looked at the two bare hands.

Osmar looked at him coldly without getting angry: "You should already know what I am, right?"

Clayton nodded. He already understood the other party's background.

"You are a descendant of the goddess of fate, but don't you have no fingers anymore?"

Osmar looked down at his fellow tribesmen again, his eyes showing no regrets: "Look at our appearance, we are just a group of monkeys with divine powers. Do you think there is any difference between monkeys' hands and feet?"

His mentality has changed drastically compared to before. The werewolf stood in a pool of blood and thought:
"Then what do you want me to do?"

"I have got what I wanted before, and now I find that I have been deceived, so I want Edwards' life as compensation." Osmar said: "Clayton Bello, I know you are not a heartless person. I helped you many times when I was with him. Even if you didn't know it at that time, you should know now that you owe me."

"I have given you a stronger spirit. The power of the devil can no longer affect you. Use this to fight."

After he finished speaking, he staggered towards the stairs, but the lack of too many toes made it difficult for him to stand steadily.

Clayton stared at his back, his black pupils shrank in the yellow sclera. He didn't feel that he owed Osmar anything. If it weren't for Osmar, he would be busy moving in Sasha City now.

But there is no need to refute this, after all, their interests are currently the same.

Clayton followed, he also had urgent matters to attend to.

He actually saw everything that happened before. When Edwards released the magic, although Clayton was not as awake as he is now, he did not really fall asleep. When his sleep desire was amplified to the peak, the magic link that Donna had set on him took away part of the desire that was enough to drown him.

He could feel that in addition to his own desire to sleep, his most painful memories were also flowing along the link to the other mind.

This could lead to some terrible misunderstandings.

Donna was waiting in the corridor on the third floor. The black-haired girl seemed out of place among the Morel soldiers, but she had already earned the respect of some people with her abilities.

The leader of the Tinnons, Di Jetali, controlled one-fifth of the rebels and was able to quickly formulate a plan to execute him alone and continue to use the remaining Tinnons. The plan was subsequently executed successfully, and even though the witch was really only as old as she looked, the dwarves began to fear her.

Because of this, Donna Bello began to understand why mind reading was considered a curse.

It was enough that she could just read other people's emotions.

Fear, desire, suspicion. These emotions came continuously from the people around her. She couldn't even escape. No one here really liked her. They treated her as something unapproachable. Unless it was necessary, they were even unwilling to talk to her.

Only Louis and Clayton could be trusted, but neither of them was with her right now.

Donna tried her best to clear her mind, to prevent the loneliness from immediately overwhelming her and weakening her strength.

She relaxed her mind, so that when a strange drowsiness came over her, she fell asleep with almost no resistance.

Her consciousness fell into darkness, but the surroundings felt so warm. Donna didn't want to wake up again. The pressure of reality was about to crush her.

A soft and clear voice came from beside her, seeming very close and yet very far away, and the rustling sound of the pen tip rubbing against the paper seemed to cover up the words: "Kerry, don't you have anything to say to Mom and Dad?" The voice that answered him sounded like Clayton's, but younger and more impatient.

"No, I've already written in March and May. Everything I wanted to say is in those two letters. I don't plan to write again this time."

The voice was closer, so close that it seemed like it came from Donna's own mouth.

Donna suddenly opened her eyes and saw that she was in a simple little room. The dazzling sunlight poured in from the window. She was sitting on the lower bunk bed, swinging her legs boredly in the sunlight.

It didn't look like her own body but rather a man's because the legs were so long.

Opposite her there was a similar bunk bed, and on the lower bunk was a black-haired young man wearing a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves. He had a slender figure, with long, curly black hair hanging down on both sides of his face. Donna couldn't see his face clearly because he was sitting with his head down, awkwardly, spreading a piece of letter paper as flatly as possible on his thighs, and writing on the letter paper with the feather pen in his hand, making a pleasant friction sound.

"Don't you have any new ideas?" The bright voice indeed came from his mouth.

"Do you really want me to?" Donna listened carefully to the pronunciation habits of the respondent, and now she was sure that it was Clayton himself.

So she looked at the man opposite her in confusion again, and she remembered what he had just said.

Kerry was the pseudonym she temporarily gave to Clayton in front of Edwards. Why did this person know it?
"Who is this?" she thought to herself. Wizards' dreams are unusual. They don't have meaningless dreams.

Or is it some kind of symbolic precognitive dream? Or is it the power of the devil getting out of control?
There was a strange and gentle feeling about the young man opposite her, as well as an inexplicable attraction. She couldn't help but shift her gaze to him, as if she should look at him, but had not fulfilled this obligation for a long time, so she had to make special compensation.

Clayton's voice sounded again, more tired than before: "Really, there is nothing left. Besides, why do you want me to write so many suicide notes? Would Mom and Dad be happier if they saw more suicide notes?"

Suicide note, is Clayton going to die? But she just met him?
So this is a precognitive dream?

Donna thought hard, and it seemed that because she was in a dream, she felt her thinking was very slow.

The man sitting opposite chuckled a few times.

"No, it's just that if we die, they'll have more mementos to remember us by."

"The more you see, the sadder it gets." Young Clayton said disdainfully. When Donna wanted to take a closer look at the man opposite her, he suddenly fell backwards and lay on the bed, so Donna could only see the moldy bed board above.

"So you have a girlfriend, right? Maybe you should leave something for her."

"Seriously, did you see me dating a woman in Patnoo? Even once? Or do you think I should write to those wrens?"

The black-haired young man opposite him sighed very lightly: "I'm sorry, Kerry, I was always looking at Cuitisi and didn't pay attention to your situation. But I always thought you were very popular. After all, you have so many advantages. As long as people get along with you, most people will like you."

"Thank you for saying these happy words." Clayton said unhappily, and Donna could intuitively feel his resentment.

His tone was very obvious, but the young man opposite him did not seem unhappy.

"Well, maybe you'd like to say something to Tristana? I can write it down in the letter."

"I have nothing to say to her. She is not my wife."

Donna clenched her hands, she didn't even know why she was doing that.

Cuitisi is her mother's name. Clayton is not her husband, so she doesn't want to write to her. But the young man opposite can write to her directly, so.
Her mind was in a mess, and some simple logic began to get tangled, making it difficult for straightforward answers to emerge.

She continued to listen in confusion.

"Kerry, she has always regarded you as her brother." The young man said earnestly.

Clayton's tone was a little angry. "I am honored to receive this privilege, but I also remember that I have repeated this many times, 'The rightmost position of the red sofa in the hall is mine, please don't pile up miscellaneous items on it,' and she never cared."

The young man chuckled again, but soon his tone became serious: "I promise, I will convey this request for you, and she will definitely listen this time."

The sound of writing rang out again.

"No, forget it." Clayton sighed sadly and denied it again: "Forget it. If I die in this battle down there and this is my last words, I will laugh at myself."

"I think you'd better say something. We may die next, so we should try to speak out what's in our heart before we die." The young man's voice was still calm.

Clayton sighed again: "But I really have nothing to say. My new friends - as you can see, they will join us on the battlefield next week. It's superfluous to say anything at this time."

"Okay, then maybe you have something you want to tell me? Please don't lie, I can feel it." The young man's voice seemed to be able to see into people's hearts.

The perspective suddenly recovered, and Clayton sat up. He stared at the person opposite him, and there was something in his voice that frightened Donna: "I do have some opinions, but are you sure you want to listen?"

"Yes," the young man said. He raised his head, revealing an extremely handsome face, and looked at Clayton seriously.

Although it was the first time she saw this person, his facial features looked extremely familiar to Donna.

There was silence in the room for a long while before Clayton spoke slowly, his teeth gnashing.

"Uren, sometimes I really hate you!"