Number Five panted heavily as he spoke.
"Don't worry about it. Whoever comes out of there alive is the satyr. As long as we survive, we're the ones who win."
The two exchanged a glance and accelerated toward the finish line once more.
Deep within the dense forest.
Werewolf No. 3 had already completed his Berserk transformation.
"Roar!"
His muscles swelled explosively, and his originally silver-white fur stood on end like needles.
An illusory full moon emerged behind him—the signature skill of a Fourth-Tier Moon Wolf.
Moonshadow Berserk.
"Sorry, brother."
Werewolf Number One looked at him coldly, without a hint of pity in his eyes.
"To stay alive, I can only ask you to go on ahead."
"Go to hell, you two monsters!"
Number Three let out a furious roar. His claws whistled as they tore through the air, turning him into a bolt of lightning as he pounced toward Number One.
However, Number One simply shifted his body slightly, his wolf claws stabbing toward Number Three's armpit at an unbelievable angle.
Simultaneously, Number Two appeared behind Number Three like a ghost, his claws sinking deep into his spine.
Puchi! Crack!
There was no suspense.
Under the siege of the two werewolves, even though Number Three erupted with desperate strength, his neck was still snapped within a few rounds.
The corpse collapsed to the ground.
"Whew..."
Number Two shook the blood off his hands, glanced at the corpse on the ground, and then checked the time.
"Boss, shall we go? If we don't leave now, we really won't make it to the finish line to eat the pigs."
However, Number One did not move.
He walked straight to Number Three's corpse and crouched down.
"Go to the finish line?"
Number One's voice was calm.
"And... who said the food can only be pigs?"
Under Number Two's shocked gaze, Number One suddenly opened his mouth wide and bit into the neck of Number Three's corpse.
Rip!
A large chunk of flesh was torn away. Werewolf Number One chewed voraciously, blood trickling down the corners of his mouth as a crazed light flickered in his eyes.
As the flesh entered his stomach, that maddening hunger actually began to subside.
[Feeding Successful]
The voice rang out in his mind once more.
"You..."
Number Two's eyes widened.
"This... this rule actually..."
"Come and eat."
Number One swallowed the meat in his mouth and looked up at Number Two, his eyes full of tyranny.
"You need to be full to have the strength to work. After eating him, we'll go straight to find Number Four and Number Five."
Number Two was deeply shaken by the scene.
Although werewolves were brutal, cannibalism was still the ultimate taboo; however, the designer of this game was a complete lunatic, actually judging the corpses of their own kind as food.
"Damn it..."
Number Two grit his teeth. In this godforsaken survival game, moral baselines were meant to be broken.
He also lunged forward and began to feast frantically.
Soon, Number Three's corpse was completely devoured by the two of them.
"Still a bit hungry... not enough."
Number One wiped his mouth, feeling that eating half only counted as being half-full.
"One more corpse to go... Come on, to the middle path."
The left route.
Number Six and Number Seven were running, panting for breath.
Suddenly, a red light flashed in the eyes of Number Seven, who was running behind.
Puchi!
A sharp claw pierced through Number Six's heart from behind without any warning.
"You..."
Number Six turned back in disbelief, seeing Number Seven's cold face.
Seeing that Number Six's corpse did not turn into black mist and vanish like before, Number Seven gave a cold laugh.
"As expected, as long as it's not erased by the rules, the corpse remains as food."
He lunged forward without hesitation and began to gorge himself.
A few minutes later.
Number Seven stood up with a mouth full of blood, let out a burp, and cast his gaze toward the middle path.
"Time is running out. Let's meet up there."
Middle route, finish line.
Number Four and Number Five had good luck; they didn't encounter any obstacles and successfully reached the finish line, devouring the two pigs there completely.
"Phew, we survived."
Number Four let out a long sigh of relief.
"Let's go, hurry back. As long as we stall until time runs out, we're guaranteed to win."
Number Five nodded in agreement.
"Exactly. As long as we don't separate..."
Just as the two were preparing to return the way they came, two blood-covered figures suddenly burst out from the trees ahead, blocking their path.
It was Werewolf Number One and Number Two.
The scent of blood on them was thick, and the bits of meat remaining around their mouths didn't look like they had killed pigs at all.
"Boss?"
Number Four's pupils constricted, and he reacted instantly, roaring out.
"Careful, the two satyrs are here!"
"The fact they could get here so fast means they didn't go to the finish line at all. They don't have the scent of pig on them; that's the smell of fresh blood."
"They haven't eaten meat. As long as we hold them off, they'll starve to death once time is up!"
Number Five also instantly assumed a combat stance, gritting his teeth as he said,
"Boss, so that's why you were so excited to find the satyrs earlier. You're that damn thing yourself."
"Heh."
Number One looked at the two of them, stuck out his tongue to lick the blood from the corner of his mouth, his eyes full of mockery and cruelty.
"Too much talk."
He waved a hand to Number Two beside him.
"Go. No need to stall. Finish this quickly. I want Number Four's body."
"Roar!!"
Without another word, Werewolf Number One and Number Two howled toward the sky simultaneously, and the moonshadow images behind them instantly solidified.
Moonshadow Berserk activated.
The size of both their bodies swelled another notch, radiating a suffocating aura of violence as they charged at Number Four and Number Five.
This time, they didn't use any weapons.
In the werewolf creed, the most primitive claws and fangs were the deadliest weapons.
Bang!
Werewolf Number One's claws whistled through the air, striking violently toward Number Four's face.
Not to be outdone, Number Four crossed his arms to tank the blow.
Boom!
Air currents billowed, and the surrounding trees snapped one after another under the shockwave.
"Want to kill us? Dream on!"
Although Number Four was shaken back several steps, his eyes were filled with the red light of excitement.
"Old Five, hold on! As long as we stall for these few minutes, they're the ones who will starve!"
"Understood!"
Number Five dodged Number Two's pounces with a nimble body. Although several deep, bone-deep gashes were carved into his body, he didn't care at all.
Both sides were Fourth-Tier Moon Wolves, their strengths roughly equal.
Trying to determine a victor and complete a kill within a few minutes was as difficult as climbing to the heavens.
Number One grew more anxious as he fought. Watching the countdown tick away, the madness in his eyes almost overflowed.
"Die! Just die for me!"
He swung his claws frantically, recklessly trading injury for injury, trying to tear through Number Four's defenses.
Just as the battle fell into a stalemate.
Rustle, rustle... From the nearby bushes, a silver-gray figure slowly walked out.
It was Werewolf No. 7, his mouth covered in blood, having long since eaten his fill.
Seeing the newcomer, Number Four and Number Five's faces instantly turned pale as paper.
"Old Seven... you..."
Only then did they suddenly remember that the rules stated very clearly: there were three satyrs.
"Sorry."
Number Seven grinned, revealing fangs still stained with bits of meat.
"This game... it's time to end it."
Roar!
Number Seven instantly joined the battle.
The originally evenly matched situation collapsed in an instant.
Three against two, combined with the suicidal fighting styles of Number One and Number Two, the defensive line crumbled in moments.
Puchi.
Werewolf No. 1's sharp claws finally pierced through Number Four's throat.
At the same time, Number Seven and Number Two joined forces to pin Number Five to the ground, forcefully tearing open his chest.
The tragic screams came to a screeching halt.
"Huff... Huff..."
Werewolf No. 1 and Number Two panted heavily; they didn't even have time to celebrate their victory before they threw themselves onto the corpses of Number Four and Number Five.
Hunger burned through their reason like fire.
Rip, tear.
The two of them lay prone on the corpses of their own kind, devouring them frantically.
Large chunks of flesh were swallowed into their stomachs, and blood stained their entire faces red.
Just then.
That cold voice rang out once again.
[Congratulations, the Werewolf camp has been completely wiped out.]
[The satyr camp wins.]
[Game over.]
Buzz.
The eerie, terrifying black forest around them began to recede.
The mist dissipated, and the space reset.
At the entrance of the alley.
By now, the outside of the alley was already surrounded by werewolves who had rushed over upon hearing the news.
They had previously been blocked by an invisible black barrier; no matter what attack they used, they couldn't break it.
Suddenly, the barrier vanished.
Everyone's gaze instantly shifted to the center of the alley.
It was a scene that all the werewolves would never forget for the rest of their lives.
In the pool of blood in the alley, the corpses of two Fourth-Tier Moon Wolves had already been disemboweled.
Meanwhile, two other Fourth-Tier Moon Wolves were lying on the corpses like wild dogs, their faces covered in blood as they chewed mouthfuls of their own kind's flesh.
The air was deathly silent.
Only the sound of chewing echoed.
Werewolf No. 1 seemed to sense something and raised his head blankly.
What met his eyes were countless pairs of shocked, disgusted, and angry eyes from all around.
"They're eating their own people?!"
"Crazy... they've gone completely mad. Those are their companions!"
"Sacrilege! This is the greatest sacrilege against the Wolf God!"
Werewolf No. 1 felt as if he had been struck by lightning, and a piece of meat in his hand fell to the ground.
He looked at his blood-covered hands, then at the face of Number Four beneath him—who had died with eyes wide open—and his mind instantly went blank.
"No, it's not like this..."
He stood up in a panic, wanting to explain, only to find that his mouth was filled with the metallic taste of his own kind's blood.
"He's actually eating the corpses of his own people!"
Someone shouted, and the surroundings instantly erupted with earth-shattering roars and condemnations.
"Kill him! Such scum doesn't deserve to be a werewolf."
"Disgusting! Pervert!"
Only at this moment did Number One truly understand the horror of that satyr.
Killing the person while destroying their heart.
Not only did he make them kill each other in the game, but he also used the rule that corpses were food to break their moral bottom line.
And the most malicious part was lifting the dread domain at this exact moment.
Allowing all their clansmen to witness their ghoul-like appearance with their own eyes.
"Listen to my explanation!"
Number One shouted in a breakdown, his voice shrill and pained.
"It was the satyr! He disguised the werewolves' corpses as food! In our perspective, this was just a pig!"
"If we didn't eat in there, we would die! We were forced!"
The surrounding verbal abuse paused slightly.
The werewolves looked at each other; although it sounded absurd, considering that bizarre barrier, they were somewhat skeptical yet inclined to believe.
"The City Lord is here! Make way!"
Just then, the crowd automatically parted to form a path.
Dante walked in with a dark expression and long strides.
He looked at the two mangled corpses on the ground and the blood-soaked Number One and Number Two, and the corners of his eyes twitched violently.
"For werewolves, eating one's own kind is the primary taboo."
Dante's voice was bone-chillingly cold.
"You... dare to commit such an atrocity in public?"
"We've been wronged, My Lord!"
Number One and Number Two fell to their knees at Dante's feet with a thud, clinging to his legs and weeping bitterly.
"It's not like that! It was the satyr's trickery! We were all played like puppets in his hands! All the other brothers are dead; only the three of us are left!"
"Satyr..."
Hearing this name, everyone couldn't help but feel a shiver in their hearts.
Werewolf Number Seven stood silently to the side at this time, his head lowered without a word.
He secretly rejoiced that he had already eaten earlier and hadn't performed this ghoul act in public; otherwise, he would be the one being condemned by thousands now.
"Hmph."
Dante gave a cold snort.
"Regardless of the reason, those who break the taboo are beyond forgiveness. Men, seize them all and take them back to the City Lord's Mansion!"
"Yes!"
Several Moon Wolf guards immediately rushed forward, tied up Number One and Number Two securely, and dragged them away.
Dante turned his head and gave Number Seven a profound look.
"You come with us as well."
Afterward, he gave orders to the surrounding werewolves.
"Disperse, everyone. Return to your patrols. Pass on my command: from now on, every thirty werewolves will form a group and maintain a tight defense. That satyr's strength is enough to toy with ten Fourth-Tiers to death; you must not be careless."
Having said that, Dante turned and left, his back looking exceptionally heavy.
Watching the City Lord leave, although the remaining werewolves dispersed as ordered, the seeds of fear had already taken root and sprouted in their hearts.
"Even Fourth-Tier Moon Wolves were toyed with until they died..."
"We can't stay in this city anymore; it's too dangerous."
"Let's run. As long as we get out of the city, maybe we'll be safe..."
The thought of fleeing flickered in the eyes of many werewolves.
In a secret room of the City Lord's Mansion.
Number One and Number Two were kneeling on the ground, still incessantly kowtowing and begging for mercy.
"Spare our lives, My Lord! We really didn't do it on purpose!"
"That's enough."
Dante waved his hand, interrupting their wailing.
"Untie them."
The guards were stunned but did as they were told.
Number One and Number Two looked at the City Lord in a bit of a daze.
"I know it was that satyr's doing."
Dante sat in a chair and rubbed his brow.
"Arresting you just now was only for the benefit of the outsiders. If I didn't do that, once everyone feels that eating one's own kind to survive can be forgiven, then in the future when they encounter the satyr, everyone will end up killing each other."
"This precedent must never be set."
Number One and Number Two suddenly understood and were moved to tears of gratitude.
"Thank you for your clear judgment, My Lord!"
"Alright, enough nonsense."
Dante said in a deep voice.
"Tell me in detail, what exactly happened in there? How is it that only the three of you are left?"
The three of them looked at each other and began to recount that cruel game called 'Who is the satyr' from start to finish.
As they spoke, Dante's brow furrowed tighter and tighter.
When he heard about the impostor, the chain of suspicion, the forced split into groups, and the part where they ate their own kind, Dante's face was already as black as the bottom of a pot.
Bang!
After hearing the end, Dante suddenly slammed his fist, smashing the rosewood table beside him into pieces.
"What a malicious game."
Dante gnashed his teeth.
"First, he used rules to make you kill each other. Seeing that you wanted to cooperate, he shortened the time to force you apart. Finally, he deliberately lifted the dread domain to let us see that scene..."
"Every step was a calculation, every step was an attack on the heart."
"This is not a beast at all; this is a demon that toys with people's hearts."
Number One asked cautiously.
"City Lord, what should we do now? That satyr has already started hunting Fourth-Tiers. If we don't deal with it..."
Dante took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the anger in his heart.
"Let's leave it like this for now. I will contact the Wizard tribe immediately."
A flash of wariness crossed Dante's eyes.
"This kind of bizarre mental control and domain ability is not something that pure physical warriors like us can solve. We must invite those experts who toy with souls to come and take a look."
"I hope... it's still in time."