The Silent Pact of a Wolf Babysitter-Chapter 67: Spectral Cleansing… or Licking

Upon leaving Coastelle, I'd intended to arrive right at the deep crater left by Falling Star—but I appeared about 450 meters off.

Weird.

Maybe ripple gates don't take you to a set location, but to where your thoughts are fixated?

That'd make sense.

Earlier, I was scanning this area for signs of life—meat—so maybe that's why I ended up here.

But still... the place was a wreckage. Around me, the land was twisted and scarred.

I spotted a charred, blackened tree that had toppled over and made my way to it, sitting down cross-legged and taking in the destruction.

What kind of monster could have turned this place into such a cursed zone?

(Note: it's him).

The ground beneath my feet radiated heat, faint wisps of smoke curling upward. Dark, bubbling puddles formed where the soil had melted into itself, and the stones and trees still bore the faint glow of smoldering burns.

Judging by the size of the debris, those trees and rocks were massive—because nothing should have survived this close to the blast.

I felt the heat on my bare feet, but it wasn't enough to hurt me.

Then I turned to the Phantom Fangs, and a smile crept onto my face.

They'd seriously impressed me during that last battle—every one of them. The way they moved, their instincts, the way they gave orders to the other specters without losing their individuality.

It had left me... honestly, a little awed.

I'd brought them out here on purpose, away from the noise—and envious gaze from the others—to thank them properly.

"Uhm..." I started, suddenly unsure how to phrase what I was feeling. "I just wanted to say... I really loved what you all did back there."

They looked at each other, clearly confused by my sudden sentimentality.

Ugh. I was being creepy.

I cleared my throat. "What I mean is—you all surpassed my expectations. You're strong. Smarter than most. Honestly, any of you could lead a squad better than I could. And you've got your own thoughts, your own personalities... you know, I think that's amazing."

Their tails started to wiggle—restless, excited.

I continued, "I know I'm supposed to be this Supreme Lord you all want me to be... but the truth is—I've walked that path before. I wasn't a Supreme, but at least I Lorded over many. But now I'm tired. I want to actually live this time. Enjoy the quiet. Enjoy peace."

(Come.)

I called to them telepathically, and the Phantom Fangs came bounding toward me without hesitation.

Their sleek black fur brushed against me as I ran my fingers through it. It was oddly soothing.

Sigh. I used to be like this—so majestic, so wild—before Pluto ruined it with his perversions.

"Let's be good friends, okay?" I offered, with a gentle smile.

At my words, they suddenly began licking my face enthusiastically.

"Hahaha! Quit it—it tickles! Hey!"

It was warm. Fuzzy. A little overwhelming... but nice.

I'd always ruled. I'd always commanded.

But this—this felt completely different.

I never had pals, not really. Those stiff wolfkins in Gihon would never lick me like this.

And let's be real, I probably would've snapped their necks if they tried.

*

But then... the licking intensified.

"No, seriously, quit—quit it! I'm not meat!" I pleaded, starting to squirm.

It became quite serious. Like the molesting-type of serious.

They didn't stop.

One of them even bit the hem of my shirt, tugging it with more enthusiasm than I was comfortable with.

Why?!

"W-Wait, I'm a male, you know?" I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.

And then that cursed sensation returned—my body growing heavy and light at once, like when Levi was obsessively examining me.

I wonder what it is.

That strange weakness. It crept through me again.

Before I knew it, I was brought to the ground, no longer on the fallen log, limbs flailing as I tried to fend off the tongues and paws attacking from every angle.

My shirt was half-off, my lower covering dangerously close to a tragic fate, and I was red-faced from defeat and embarrassment.

Ordinarily, I had no problem with being nude—as I've been nude all my life. But for whatever reason, I really didn't want to go undressed here before these... these wolves!

I can't believe this...

This was starting to feel... illegal.

I was struggling with my shirt and black lower covering, all the while enduring intense hot tongues from every corner.

'This is bestiality!'

Wait—no. I'm a Fenrir. So technically, this isn't bestiality...

But still—I'm in human form now! What would the readers think?!

Looking closer, I realized something else—two of them were male, and the other two were female.

"G...Give me a break!!!!!"

With that desperate cry, they froze, then vanished from me at lightning speed. In the next instant, all four were prostrated before me, trembling in what I assumed was deep apology.

Goodness.

"Do I t-taste that good?" I muttered, hastily straightening my clothes. "Hmph! M-Maybe... maybe if I'm not so busy, we could, you know, play again. But not out in the open, okay?"

They responded with a low grunt of agreement, ears slightly drooped.

Whew.

That was too close. I nearly lost my innocence to a pack of overly affectionate wolves-subordinates.

As I brushed off the dirt and restored what dignity I had left, I remembered I'd brought them here for a reason—to reward them before we went hunting.

This chapt𝓮r is updat𝒆d by ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom.

Now... what names do I give them?

They all looked nearly identical in wolf form. Only subtle distinctions, nothing too drastic.

Meh, who cares.

I'm their Supreme Lord. They'll accept whatever I throw at them.

I pointed at each one, bestowing their names with noble flair:

"Swanir. Bladir. Fangstrong. And..."

Nothing... nothing... nothing's coming to mind.

Should I call this one Shuna or Shion?

Then my mind suddenly clicked with divine randomness. "Chiyama!"

The moment their names were spoken, a dark mist began to swirl around their bodies, thickening into an almost tangible fog.

Then, their bear-sized wolf forms shifted, morphing—reshaping—until four humanoid figures stood before me.

I shot up in shock.

"Who are you?!" I asked rhetorically.

They were still them... and yet something was different.

Their presence now felt doubled—darker, more terrifying, and far more refined.

Platform!

{Understood.}

"..."

(If you understood, then get moving!)

{My, but Master, you gave me no orders.}

I ignored the still-mad-at-me Platform, and turned my full attention to the four figures now kneeling before me.

"This one is called Swanir, O Great Lord, and your humble servant."

The one who spoke had her head bowed low, black hair streaked with white and tied neatly at the back.

She radiated elegance, mature in stature—on par with Levi, even. Nothing about her said "someone who molested me two minutes ago."