Chapter 260 Werewolf Nature

Two figures passed through the snowy forest one after the other.

In front was Francis, the temporary leader of the Salvation Army of Gevaux, and behind was the respectable antique dealer Clayton Bello.

To be honest, Clayton Bello had never thought that this chase would be so long. A prey that should have been easily caught had run so far beyond its limit. This had nothing to do with the difference in ability. It was all because of some damn road conditions that slowed down the werewolf's pace.

He was obviously running along Francis' route, but all the pits that the predecessors had not stepped on were left to him.

Clayton thought of the weird luck problem.

But in any case, Francis had fallen into his hands this time.

This Salvation Army soldier was no longer able to run. Even for his own life, his physical strength had been completely exhausted and he had no potential to sprint again.

The sky was so dark that humans could not tell the direction.

Francis panted and slowed down his pace. He turned around and looked at the hunter who came to hunt him. The pair of glowing yellow eyes were really eye-catching in the darkness.

Clayton did not take action, but gave him a chance to rest. Francis rested for a few seconds with his knees, and shouted in an extremely dry voice: "I don't have anything you want here, we just want to live!"

He had been separated from the other Saviors for a while. As long as he was still rational, he knew that his companions who had lost their command advantage should have completely failed.

But they failed, and he didn't.

If Clayton Bello was willing to let him go, he would still have a chance to leave here.

Clayton approached the rebel. He was shirtless, and a lot of white steam was peeling up from his skin, but he was still energetic.

"Maybe, but the people of the Doom Seekers Sect must be useful to you. I want to know what role you played in their use of the thing in the swamp. Tell me, what did Chude Osmar say to you?"

Hearing this name, Francis laughed bitterly.

"You think we are important to him, don't you? I'm sorry to disappoint you. We are abandoned again, those two bitches." He spoke too quickly, coughing and retching.

Clayton wanted to wait until he finished coughing before speaking, but Francis' cough became more and more urgent, and he began to cover his mouth.

These coughs never stopped once they appeared. They continued, from dull to sharp, and blood oozed from the gaps between the five fingers of Francis's hand covering his mouth.

Clayton's face changed, and he took a step forward to grab him to see the situation, but after he got close, the coughing stopped abruptly. Francis put down his hand, but his face was extremely scared, as if he was already familiar with the experience later. He held his head with both hands, and his body fell to the ground and spasmed reflexively.

Screaming, but silently.

Clayton watched him holding his head and twitching in the snow, his mouth opened to the limit of human beings, his skin was red and congested, as if he was going to howl with all his strength, but in stark contrast to the amplitude of his movements, he could not make any sound in his throat.

The painful transformation continued. Francis' feet and head supported the ground, but his back arched up and no longer touched the ground, as if forming a bridge formed by the human body.

Clayton tried to stop this transformation. He stretched out his hand, but was shocked to find that his fingers had stretched out.

But he did not control himself to change into a werewolf form, and today was not a full moon!

The unknown changes also existed in his body, but it was not so painful.

It was as if countless centipedes were moving their limbs on his body, and slight tingling and itching were running on Clayton's skin. This feeling reminded Clayton of his first transformation, but he thought he had already controlled his body.

He felt his brow ridges bulging, his upper and lower jaws stretching, and his hair growing.

He tried to press the moving facial features back to their original positions with his hands, but it was useless.

The shoes were torn apart by the swollen feet and sharp claws, the developed leg muscles completely tested the elasticity of the pants fabric, and the belt was held up until the last moment under the expansion of the waist circumference.

Clayton's body involuntarily changed into the form of a werewolf.

And the animal nature gradually overwhelmed reason.

After a while, the tall werewolf stopped changing, put down its claws, and looked at the tumbling meat on the ground with indifferent eyes.

The streets of Revo were bright, and people lit a bonfire again in front of the square in the center of the town.

The smell of burning wood and blood surrounded here.

The hunters completely defeated the Savior Army. They collected the bodies of the enemies. Six bodies were hung on wooden poles and swayed, accepting the onlookers of the locals, while the captives were escorted back and forth on the street.

The boasting of the hunters and the abuse of the Savior Army were heard for a while.

Some relatives of the dead hunters in the crowd tried to throw stones at the faces of the bodies, but were stopped by the hunters carrying guns.

The reason that stopped them was slowly approaching.

Two men carried a heavy machine covered with black cloth to the square. Surrounded by a group of people, they lifted the black cloth to reveal an old-fashioned camera underneath. Mayor Jeffrey walked in front of them, gestured to them to adjust the camera, and asked the person with the prisoner to walk in front of the camera.

White flashes illuminated the square.

The victor has the right to leave a memorial in his own way.

Doing so seems to be over.

The werewolf who had just returned was lying on the roof of a building. When he turned around unintentionally, this scene was imprinted in his eyes. The overwhelming flash of the camera made his place being taken care of. He suddenly felt like he had been discovered, but after the light disappeared, he I didn't see anyone acting abnormally, and the feeling just now seemed to be just an illusion.

Even if these people have begun to celebrate, he is sure that this matter is not completely over, because the people of the Doomsday Seeker sect will not just make such a simple plan.

He hooked the eaves with his claws, lowered his body, and pushed open a completely black window with his other claw and swung in.

This was the room Perrault lent him.

Putting on his spare clothes, Clayton went upstairs to find the others.

The corridor was dark, but the smell and the light coming from the crack of the door proved that everyone else was still here.

He hesitated for a moment before opening the door.

What happened just now was still engraved in his mind, very clear, but the reality was as erratic as the fallen leaves in the wind.

Clayton lowered his head and seemed to see Francis' broken head looking at him on the ground.

The feeling of fullness also reminded him of what he had done.

Clayton took a deep breath and opened the door this time. Except for Ian Lazarus and Selanne, everyone who could move gathered in Perot and Barbara's room. The flame of the oil lamp on the bedside Trembling, it barely illuminated half the room. The female vampire was lying on her bed, her eyes closed, her face pale, and everyone else was surrounding her.

For a moment, he thought that history had been tampered with, and that it was not Marietta who was attacked by the Salvation Army, but Barbara.

When she saw him, Donna immediately called him happily.

"Clayton!"

"Uncle Clayton!" Clara also shouted, and Donna's eyes widened next to her. But Clara was so taller than her at the moment that she didn't notice her at all.

When he saw them, Clayton suddenly felt uncomfortable. Fortunately, when they were about to surround them, Julius opened his arms to stop them first, and at the same time motioned for the others to retreat.

"You look a little different from before. Do you want to take a look in the mirror first?"

The wizard stared at Clayton suspiciously. He put his hands into his pockets, probably making some spell-casting gestures, which made Clayton even more uneasy.

He touched his face and found no proliferated organs or anything different from a human face. But others did observe something strange in more detail after hearing Julius's words, which could be seen from their surprised expressions.

The wizard pointed to his eyes: "The color of your eyes looks like another curse ritual has been performed."

Clayton touched his eyes again, but of course, the color couldn't be detected.

"Here." Donna found a mirror on the bedside table and squeezed past Julius to give it to him.

Clayton looked into the mirror,

The iris part of his eyeballs expanded again at some point, and the yellow-brown color expanded wildly. When he looked directly at himself in the mirror, the whites of his eyes were almost completely invisible, and the pupils were slightly larger than before.

He put down the mirror: "I encountered some problems before. Let me talk about you first. Why are you all gathered here? What's wrong with Barbara?"

"What a coincidence, we also have a special situation here."

Clayton's words did not make Julius relax. He explained in a deep voice while looking at Barbara on the bed: "Ms. Barbara suddenly went crazy, and it didn't work if we fed her blood. Old Perot said it was an old habit, but I knew it was impossible."

"But this happened before she met you." After being corrected, Perot decided to correct himself.

His wife was going crazy, but he seemed calmer than everyone else, and even tried to persuade others to calm down too.

"Look, I know this seems scary, but she's had this problem before and she'll be back to normal just by giving her a night's rest. You'll know I'm right tomorrow."

Clayton remembered that Barbara seemed to have said such a thing before, but he thought of his experience with Francis and did not fully believe Perot's words.

"When did this happen?"

"The transition from dusk to night," Julius said.

Clayton fell silent, and after a while he spoke, telling exactly what he had experienced before.

Including what happened in between.

The stimulation of appetite may also be some kind of special condition, and he didn't want the wizards to misjudge the facts.

In war, any intelligence error may kill the combatants.

Of course, this kind of thing would be disgusted and feared by ordinary people, and he expected it. The wrinkles on Perot's forehead were as sharp as a knife, but he said nothing. Julius and Donna also had different expressions, but the wizard's expression was "Finally", while the girl's expression was slight fear.