Nathan and his men cheered on, full of fighting spirit.
Meanwhile, in Gishwick, Feston, the biggest city out of the five cities conquered by the werewolves, Raytor was staring solemnly at his fellow subjects atop his throne inside the presidential palace the Alpha Wolf had taken over.
It was evident that a storm was brewing in his eyes.
His subjects included Shamans, priests, elders, the Gods of War of the werewolf clan, his fellow warriors, and much more.
Raytor was holding Nathan's letter to the challenge that was written in impeccable handwriting.
“Nathan Cross?” he asked coldly. “The Nathan who killed my son? He's here? How dare he challenge me to a fight to the death?”
Nobody dared make a sound.
In the end, the High Priest of the werewolf clan spoke up. “Your Majesty, this Nathan is Eurasia's God of War, the man who killed your son. According to our sources, the humans have formed an alliance to attack us werewolves and vampires. Nathan is the Deputy Commander of this Alliance as well as the vanguard. He has come for us this time around. Specifically speaking, he's coming for you. Admiral Max told us we must hold the forte and, if possible, kill him.”
Raytor's face darkened after his suspicion of Nathan being the man who killed his son was confirmed.
All of a sudden, he tightened his grip.
Whoosh!
Nathan's letter burned to ashes in his hands.
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