Rage of a Bereaved Son

Without a second thought, the hungry, evil, red-eyed werewolves were met with William’s bravery. On his face, there was no sign of dread. Anger and loathing may be seen in his golden eyes. He was planning his vengeance. He didn’t care if he died right now as long as he could let out the rage that was building up inside him.

As the red-eyed werewolves saw William’s nails grow longer and sharper, they backed away. But their boldness returned until it was the only alteration in his physique, and they assumed the young man was only weak because he couldn’t fully transform into a dog-like or massive humanoid form yet. One of the three adversaries growled and charged at William. He was going to devour William whole when he opened his ravenous jaws, but William managed to dodge it. The enemy launched another strike, this time intending to pierce William’s throat with its sharp claws, but the latter slid and kicked hard on the opponent’s stomach, causing it to gush upwards as far as it could.