The first werewolf, its fur singed and tattered, crashed down from the shattered window with a thunderous impact. It landed upon the frigid stone floor just beside the entrance.
This was the relentless pursuer who had dogged us for three gruelling nights. It loomed at an imposing height of nearly two and a half meters, towering over Knight Astor by a full head. Though its growled words bore a higher pitch, they remained comprehensible: "You're the one who killed Kamen, my dearest friend of nearly two decades." Knight Astor shifted his stance, adopting a resolute and defensive posture. He nodded with unwavering resolve, his grip on the sword firm: "Indeed, your comrade was a feeble creature, meeting his demise as the unholy abomination he had become."