With Olsen's experience and Richard's magical senses, it didn't take long for them to pinpoint the approximate location of the werewolves' den.
Werewolves possessed keen senses of smell and hearing—get too close, and they'd easily be alerted. The den lay in a densely wooded area, the trees tall and thick, and the air was saturated with a pungent, feral stench.
Richard reached out to catch a passing breeze, closed his eyes, and listened intently. A few moments later, he opened his eyes and said, "There are nine werewolves in there... and one of them is an alpha."
"Nine?! And there's a pack leader?!" Olsen's face turned pale.
"This is way beyond what we can handle. We need to fall back and gather more exorcists," he urged.
"No need for all that." Richard shook his head. "But once this is over, Mr. Smith is going to need to pay us more. This wasn't in the original intel."
Olsen looked conflicted—clearly shaken by the sheer number and presence of an alpha, yet also recalling the formidable power Richard had demonstrated earlier.
"Do you have a plan, Lord Richard?" he asked hesitantly.
"Plan?" Richard looked at him like he was asking something silly. "It's simple. Charge in, surround them, kill the werewolves, collect the bounty. Done."
Olsen: …
Seeing Olsen's stunned expression, Richard added, "You stay out here and watch the perimeter. Make sure none escape. I'll handle the rest."
And with that, he strode straight into the woods.
The deeper he went into the den, the stronger the stench of blood and musk became. It didn't take long for the werewolves to notice him. With a chilling howl, all nine charged out from the shadows.
Each one stood between eight to ten feet tall, moving with frightening speed. Their hulking forms were covered in dense gray fur, rippling with muscle. Eyes glowed an eerie green, and their mouths gaped with rows of razor-sharp fangs—truly fearsome to behold.
"Even with higher intelligence, they still think like beasts," Richard muttered to himself.
"Venomous Vines!"
Suddenly, thorned vines erupted from the ground like living serpents, snapping toward the nearest werewolves. The first three were immediately ensnared.
The dark green vines were bristling with barbed spikes that dug into flesh on contact. Paralytic toxins seeped in instantly, sapping their strength as they struggled in vain.
The others quickly adapted. Seeing their packmates caught, they leapt to the sides, agilely dodging the spreading tangle.
"Arcane Missiles!"
Before they could regroup, Richard raised his hand, unleashing glowing bolts of pure magical energy.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Three airborne werewolves were hit mid-leap—completely exposed. The magical impact shattered their natural defenses and tore into muscle and bone.
"Flame Jet!"
With a flick of his staff, a cone of searing flame erupted, hot enough to melt steel. It engulfed the next wave of werewolves.
Their fur, saturated with natural oils, turned them into living torches. Flames consumed them instantly, and their bloodcurdling howls echoed through the forest.
Just then, the rest of the pack emerged from the treeline, snarling at the sight of their burning kin. Without hesitation, they lunged at Richard.
"Flight!"
A sudden gust of wind lifted him high into the air like a bird in flight.
Werewolves might be strong and fast, but to a sorcerer who could fly, they were nothing more than targets. This was exactly why Richard had the confidence to take them on alone.
"Awoooo!"
Frustrated by their prey's escape, one of the werewolves climbed up a tree in several powerful leaps and sprang off the canopy straight at Richard.
"Lesser Fireball!"
A fireball the size of a soup bowl smacked squarely into its face.
Not even a whimper. The beast dropped like a stone, hitting the ground with a thud—as if sent into eternal nap time.
The remaining werewolves howled and gnashed their teeth. One of them picked up a large stone and hurled it upward at Richard.
The strength behind the throw was immense—but precision? Not so much. It missed him by a wide margin.
Still, the others followed suit, grabbing rocks and branches and flinging them toward the sky.
Most missed wildly, but with sheer volume, some managed near-hits.
Richard flicked his staff lightly.
"Lesser Deflection Field."
"Energy Shield."
A transparent barrier shimmered around him. The projectiles immediately curved off-course, scattering harmlessly in every direction.
"Time to end this."
"Arcane Missiles!"
More magical bolts burst from his staff. Under Richard's precise control, they zeroed in on their targets with unrelenting accuracy.
Bones shattered. Flesh ripped open. Two werewolves took hits to the head—skulls bursting like overripe melons, blood and brain matter painting the underbrush.
In mere moments, all nine werewolves—including the alpha—were either dead or too injured to move.
Descending slowly from the air, Richard landed beside the towering alpha. Its glowing eyes stared at him with a mixture of hatred and fear.
Richard raised his hand, ready to finish it.
"Wait—please!" a voice called out.
From the nearby woods, a familiar figure stepped into view—it was the witch they had met earlier.
"And you are?" Richard turned to her, unfazed by her sudden appearance.
"Sir, I am Jenny—a jungle witch, as you can see," she said respectfully with a slight bow.
Jungle witches were a branch of witchcraft practitioners. Typically reclusive forest dwellers, they were experts in herbal alchemy, flora manipulation, and animal taming—somewhat akin to druids.
"What brings you here?" Richard asked flatly.
Jenny replied, "Esteemed sorcerer, I'd like to make a trade... for that werewolf."
"A trade?" Richard raised an eyebrow.
"Yes," she said earnestly. "You know we jungle witches are not skilled in direct combat. I need beasts to protect myself. That's why I hope to exchange something for the alpha."
Richard thought for a moment. "Alright. What are you offering?"
"Magic potions, rare minerals, enchanted items—or gold?" she offered, her eyes lighting up.
"How much gold?" Richard asked.
"One hundred thousand dollars," she replied quickly.
Richard shook his head with a small smile. "That alpha took a lot of effort to capture."
"So... you'll have to sweeten the deal."