In a tavern, sitting at the edge of the room, there sat a hooded figure, face down, trying their best not to attract any attention. Where am I again? Damn, all these towns are starting to look the same. I’d better ask for directions and update the map, they thought. The problem was deciding who to ask without causing suspicion. Bards were playing cheery music, but it was nothing more than noise to the hooded figure, preventing them from thinking clearly. What an annoyance those bards are.

  The hooded figure felt a powerful urge to tell them to shut up, but suddenly the doors of the tavern were flung open. It seemed they didn’t need to say anything after all, because at that moment, the bards stopped playing, the people drinking froze in place, and even the barkeeper stopped serving. A moment of tense silence filled the room.

  Five individuals in armor strolled in, their heads turning left and right, scanning the room as if searching for something—or someone. Finally, one of them spoke. He appeared to be the group’s leader, as he walked ahead of the others.

  “Listen up! We’re part of the Hunter’s Guild, and we have reason to believe one of those mutts is hiding among you. Now, if you’re not one of them, you’ve got nothing to fear. We just need to check everyone here! You don’t mind, right?” he said, flashing a cynical smile. Then he turned to one of his associates, who handed him a dagger.

  The leader spoke again. “This here is a silver dagger. We’re going to place it on your skin. If nothing happens, it proves you’re human. If not, well...” His smile widened maliciously. “We’ll prepare a stake fire just for you.”

  Silver? Really? They’re using that old superstition? Well, I guess I’ve got nothing to worry about, then, the hooded figure thought, leaning against the wall to watch the show.

  The leader began with a young woman who looked to be in her early twenties. She showed no fear, as though she had nothing to worry about.

  But when the dagger touched her palm, she screamed. “Ahhhhh!”

  The sound made most of the people in the bar restless and anxious.

  “She’s one of them—a freak, a monster!” someone shouted.

  “By the gods, she’s disguised herself as one of us! Let’s burn her at the stake right now!” yelled another.

  The entire tavern erupted with hateful cries. They no longer saw the young woman as a person; to them, she was a demon.

  “You’re wrong! I’m human—I’m one of you! Please, you have to believe me!” she pleaded, tears streaming down her face.

  “LIES!” shouted the leader of the hunters. “Don’t fall for her trickery! She’s a monster, and if we let her live, she’ll come for your loved ones in the night, ripping them to shreds.”

  The crowd surged toward her, some armed with weapons, others brandishing broken glass or makeshift stakes from shattered furniture.

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  The girl looked terrified, trapped with no way out. She tried to speak again, but no words came, only silent sobs of despair.

  The hunters rushed forward, binding her arms and legs as she struggled in vain. A particularly tall member of their group hoisted her onto his shoulder.

  “We’re going to burn her at the stake! If anyone wants to see this monster die for threatening your lives, come along!” the leader proclaimed.

  The tavern erupted in cheers as the crowd followed the hunters outside, eager to witness the execution. Even the barkeeper abandoned his post to join them.

  In the end, the tavern was empty. Well, not completely empty. One individual remained—the hooded figure, who sat dumbfounded.

  “What the hell was that?” the hooded figure muttered in disbelief. “There’s no way that girl was like me. I would’ve sensed it. And even if she was, silver shouldn’t have done anything to her.”

  Their eyes fell on the dagger, which had been dropped in the chaos. Picking it up, they examined it closely.

  “Huh. This seems pretty normal to me. No runes, no enchantments... This doesn’t even look like silver.”

  To test it, they placed their finger on the blade. “Ah!” They felt a sharp burning sensation. The pain was intense, but they’d endured worse before. Slowly, the burn began to heal.

  They examined the dagger more closely, noticing a drop of liquid on the blade—so small it could easily be missed. The blade itself appeared slightly corroded.

  “Some kind of acid, maybe? A clever trick. Amazing how easily humans can be fooled,” the hooded figure mused.

  Moments later, laughter echoed from the tavern door. One of the hunters—a slim man with black hair—walked in. His laughter ceased abruptly when he saw the hooded figure holding the dagger. Their eyes met, and the man froze in shock.

  The hooded figure dropped the dagger and walked out without a word.

  Outside, the hooded figure saw the girl tied to a stake. The crowd was still gathering wood for the pyre. She had regained her voice, and now she couldn’t stop screaming and crying, begging for mercy.

  “What a shame,” the hooded figure muttered. “But that’s just how humans are.”

  They turned to leave, slipping into an alley to avoid further attention. But as they walked, two hunters appeared ahead of them, blocking the path. A glance behind revealed two more men cutting off their retreat.

  Between the two in front, the leader emerged. Bald and muscular, his armor was the only thing remotely memorable about him.

  “One of my men told me you uncovered our little trick. Unfortunately, we can’t let you go after that. Who knows who you might tell,” he said, flashing his trademark cynical smile.

  He nodded, and the hunters drew their swords.

  The hooded figure said nothing, their claws beginning to grow, thickening and darkening with a faint black tint.

  One of the hunters stepped forward. “We’ll make this qui—”

  Before he could finish, the hooded figure slashed him across the face, the wound cutting deep into his neck. Blood poured as he collapsed, lifeless.

  The hooded figure stood over the body, blood dripping from their claws. The remaining hunters hesitated, stunned.

  “Kill him! He’s the real deal!” the leader roared.

  The remaining hunters charged. One swung his sword vertically, but the hooded figure caught him by the neck, lifting him off the ground and crushing his throat.

  Another attacked from the side, swinging his blade horizontally. The hooded figure caught the blade, bleeding but unfazed, and snapped it in two. They used the broken half to stab the man in the throat, watching him choke on his own blood.

  The leader, now alone, trembled in fear. He turned to flee, but the hooded figure grabbed him by the neck, pinning him to the alley wall.

  For the first time, the leader got a close look at the hooded figure’s glowing yellow eyes, elongated incisors, and sharp canines.

  “You’re... you’re a...”

  “Yeah,” the figure growled, tightening their grip. “A werewolf.”

  With a final twist, they crushed the leader’s neck and let his lifeless body fall to the ground.