NOVEL NEXT Chapter 82: The Howl of Five Hundred Wolves
The spot where Moonlight Beauty was being corpse-camped lay in the Shattered Woodlands of Blood Gorge, a stretch of forest not far from the Corrupted Forest. The monsters here were Level 17 Corrupted Graywolves.
Wolf-type monsters had a simple rule: the higher their level, the more likely they were to learn a unique ability called the Call of Reinforcements.
The Corrupted Graywolves had mastered it—but with a twist.
Unlike normal wolves, which howled for nearby pack members, the corrupted version conjured an identical Graywolf from the void itself. Worse, whether by design or bug, these creatures could use Call of Reinforcements every thirty seconds instead of once per battle.
And the summoned wolves? They could howl, too.
One wolf would call another, that one would call again, and soon an unstoppable tide of teeth and fur would fill the forest.
As if that wasn't bad enough, Corrupted Graywolves had a second trick: Stun Charge. Within thirty yards, any enemy other than their current target could be struck for minor damage—but the hit forced that target onto their aggro list. A glancing blow was all it took to pull unwanted attention.
Ryan planned to use that attention to wipe out the players camping Moonlight Beauty's corpse.
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"Moonlight, prepare to die again!" Ryan said with a chuckle. The laugh was low and unsettling, enough to make the nearby players fall silent mid-complaint.
"Die… again?" Moonlight Beauty blinked, then caught on quickly. "You mean, I need to lure them somewhere first?"
"Clever as always." Ryan's smile curved into something sharp. "From here…"
He laid out his plan in a few clipped sentences. By the end of it, those listening sucked in a breath and instinctively stepped back, as if distance alone could shield them from whatever he was about to unleash.
"I just feel like the Guild Leader suddenly became really dangerous," Smoking Gun muttered.
No one disagreed.
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Moonlight Beauty resurrected and immediately sprinted into action. She cut through the ring of corpse-campers, reaching the outer edge where a lone Corrupted Graywolf prowled. Popping a healing potion, she barely regained a sliver of health before the hunters swarmed her again.
She fell in a narrow, bowl-shaped valley.
It was the worst possible place to die—a small depression with almost no cover. Her killers laughed, settling in around her body like vultures certain their prey couldn't escape.
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"Done, Guild Leader. The rest is up to you!" Moonlight Beauty's voice was light, almost playful, as her spirit drifted toward the graveyard. She ran the slow path back to her corpse and then sat cross-legged beside it, waiting.
"Remember," Ryan said, his tone firm but calm, "no matter what happens, try to get to the outermost edge. If you do, we can save you. If not… well, you'll have to log off and sleep it off."
Moonlight Beauty gave a simple nod.
Ryan turned his gaze to the shadows where the Corrupted Graywolves waited. "Alright, everyone, clear out. I don't want anyone caught in the splash damage."
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Luring Corrupted Graywolves was once considered the ultimate test of a mage's positioning skill. A legendary player named One Thousand and One Nights had once let the chain howls run unchecked, gathering 8,192 Graywolves into one writhing mass and earning the title of strongest positioning mage.
Ryan wasn't that extreme. On his old spellcaster character, he had only ever pulled about a thousand wolves—and that had taken three tries, with two miserable failures before it.
This time, he didn't need a record-breaking horde.
For the corpse-campers lying in wait, five hundred hungry Graywolves would be more than enough to teach a lesson they'd never forget.
Retribution Paladin was arguably the best class for luring Corrupted Graywolves. Thanks to their innate talents, they enjoyed a 15% movement speed bonus over normal players. That speed alone made gathering the wolves almost risk-free.
At the moment, Ryan was a Protection Paladin running a Retribution build, which meant he had both speed and survivability. In his mind, gathering hundreds of Corrupted Graywolves was hardly a challenge.
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He started with the classic "face-pull" approach, striding into a Corrupted Graywolf's territory until it noticed him and lunged to attack. The surrounding monsters had already been cleared, and with at least five minutes before they would respawn, Ryan had more than enough time to carry out his plan.
As the first wolf gave chase, Ryan weaved through the forest, occasionally turning to cast Reckoning, refreshing the taunt to keep its attention. The Corrupted Graywolves were fast—but not fast enough. Their speed matched that of an average player, and against Ryan's speed boost, they had no chance of catching him.
Thirty seconds later, the wolf threw back its head and loosed an eerie howl. Shadows rippled in the air, and a second Corrupted Graywolf materialized from the void to join the hunt.
A minute later, the first two wolves howled again, summoning two more. Four gray, snarling shapes now trailed behind Ryan. Time ticked on, the chain of howls growing faster, louder, and more numerous. Four wolves became eight. Eight became sixteen. Then thirty-two.
Minutes later, a tide of 256 Corrupted Graywolves thundered through the Shattered Woodlands after Ryan.
Now, the pressure began to mount. He couldn't just sprint in a straight line. The key to survival was movement—wide circles and careful turns to keep the horde bunched together without letting them close the gap. The wilderness terrain added to the challenge. The wolves stretched into a long, writhing line that only tightened when he looped around, forcing them into a deadly, compact pack.
In the distance, Smoking Gun and the other guild members watched from their mounts. They dared not get any closer.
When the number of wolves swelled past two hundred, an audible gasp rippled through the group. Across the guild, players watching through shared perspectives held their breath. Ryan had stopped circling. He was now leading the massive pack straight toward the narrow valley—toward the players camping Moonlight Beauty's corpse.
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Down in the valley, the corpse-campers lounged around Moonlight Beauty's body, chatting and laughing.
"Man, too bad we can't join the frontline fight," one of them grumbled. "This is boring."
"Relax. Free kills are free kills," another said, smirking.
Then a sharp-eyed player stiffened. "Hey… what's that? Up ahead?"
They all turned. A distant figure was emerging from the trees.
"Reinforcements? Maybe they're finally sending someone to fight back?"
"No… doesn't look like it," someone said slowly. "Are those… monsters?"
"Wait. That's a human player!" another laughed. "Hah! What an idiot—he's pulled half the forest with him!"
"Should we kill him?"
"No rush," their leader said, folding his arms. "Let the mobs do the work. Then we can camp him too. Make this less boring."
The group chuckled, watching Ryan seem to hesitate and fall back, as if retreating. In their eyes, he looked like a panicked fool about to be torn apart.
"This guy's an amateur," the leader said with a sneer. "Doesn't he know that if we don't generate any aggro, it doesn't matter how many wolves he brings?"
He had no idea that the real show hadn't even started yet.