Chief Klaus growled. "Or else you’ll feel the wrath of the Goldbloods under the full moon. WOLVES!"
Ernest and the other Werewolves growled, sending a visible shockwave that ruffled Zovirru’s extravagant red-scaled cloak. But the man himself remained smiling.
"You know you can’t afford a full-scale war against us," said Chief Klaus. "I feel Draconic gazes from the other towers, just waiting for a chance."
For a brief second, Zovirru seemed to finally show a change in expression. He looked to be on the verge of relenting to the Goldblood Chief’s demands.
But just then...
AWOOOO!!!!
Another set of howls echoed off from the distance. Michael and the others turned their heads back from where they came from, seeing a pack of gigantic Wolves running towards them at full speed.
The one leading them, a Brown Wolf whose fur was filled with symbols that littered around his body, lunged towards them. Its eyes were blood red under the light of the moon.
GRAOO!
Chief Klaus intercepted the giant Brown Wolf, meeting him in the skies. The two used their reality-altering physical strength to keep themselves afloat, fighting on nothing but the air beneath their paws.
Just as the two were about to meet under the moonlight, the Brown Wolf stepped to the side and opened its jaws wide, intending to bite at Chief Klaus’ left leg.
Chief Klaus countered with a swift turn-around, protecting his limbs.
Both gigantic wolves then clashed their heads in the air, their fur creating sparks upon contact.
Even without using his Drone Vision, Michael could feel immense Aubility Power emanating from that one single clash. With such a simple attack, both of them showed powers equalling that of a 9th stage Body Formation Maugnetic!
Michael could only guess that their real strength must be above that.
"You!" Chief Klaus shouted. "What are you doing here?!"
The Brown Wolf snarled. "Come on, brother. You think I wouldn’t come to my ally’s rescue with you hounding him in front of his tower?"
Michael already guessed it, but the Brown Wolf turned out to be Lupan, the Chief of the Brownblood Tribe and Klaus’ blood brother.
Behind Lupan was the other Brownblood Werewolves, ready to go in an all-out war against the Goldblood tribe. The two tribes were in a stand-off, snarling at each other. A single sneeze will set them off like hounds.
But despite facing a Draconian and their rival tribe, Chief Klaus and the other Goldbloods didn’t back off. Instead, they became even wilder, growling and snarling with intent to sacrifice their lives if they had to.
"I promise you this: we’ll all find ourselves buried in this place if you don’t give us the Antique. NOW!"
Chief Klaus’ words did not mean he would win the war against them. Instead, he assured them that there would be mutual destruction if a war came to be.
And judging from the faces of Zovirru and Lupan especially, they knew that the old limping Werewolf was serious. The Goldbloods were nothing if savage.
Michael started to think of an escape route if things really did go south.
"Professor, are they really going to have an all-out war?"
The professor leaned in towards him. "I don’t know, but I wouldn’t worry. They wouldn’t dare battle it out here. Zovirru is not bloodthirsty—most dragons aren’t. They appreciate entertainment more than fighting. And for now, he finds entertainment in teasing Chief Klaus here with war."
Just as the three Beastfolks were in a stand-off, Michael suddenly felt another presence approaching them from the side.
"I’m afraid that I’m going to have to intervene."
A young man in his late teens or early twenties with striking green hair approached them. Michael didn’t recognize him, but the others surely did.
"Sergio Aubert. Where’s your father?" Chief Klaus growled.
"My father originally sent me here to oversee my little brother’s performance in the swordsmen tournament, but as you all know, something interesting happened with that little earthquake."
As it turned out, Sergio was the older brother of Mauricio Aubert. Michael saw great resemblance between the two.
"Chief Klaus," Sergio called out. "You cannot force Zovirru to give you the Antique. We have the upper hand now."
It wasn’t just Zovirru and the Brownblood Tribe they were fighting against. Now, it was the Aubert company as well.
Chief Klaus knew this and could only grumble to himself. He could still fight if it progressed to that, but even he knew that going against three factions was too much, even for him.
It looked like they weren’t going to get the Antique this time.
"Haaaa..."
Suddenly, Zovirru sighed. "Why did you have to ruin my fun? Now Klaus wants to back off... that’s it. Show’s over. I’m ready to give the Antique now."
Sergio and the Werewolves were surprised at Zovirru’s sudden words.
"What?!"
"What fun is it to fight when we’re clearly overwhelming them? That’s boring. Instead, I’m planning to give the Antique to any of you. I have no need for it anyway."
The professor found that curious. "Why?"
"I’ve had the Antique for a while, studying, testing it, but it has never made a reaction from all my prodding. It’s clearly not meant for me. I would rather give it to one of you, and watch as you all fight each other for its possession."
Zovirru then walked back to his red portal and put his hand through it. A second later, he brought it out, carrying something in his hands.
The professor’s eyes immediately widened. Just from the sheer grandiosity of the object, he immediately knew that it was a genuine remnant from the Ancient Era.
It was the Antique!
It was a large black Tibia bone from a Mythical Beast’s legs as large as Zovirru himself. It was very thick, where even a Draconian’s hands couldn’t grab a hold of it properly.
"This is the Antique," Zovirru announced.
The professor immediately stepped forward, the inner historian within him unable to hold on any longer. The fact that the Antique was right in front of his eyes made him completely forget about the conflict unfolding around him.
Michael followed after the professor, using his identity as ’Keo’, the historian’s student.
"It has a lot of cut marks," he said, talking about the numerous scratches on the otherwise pristine-looking white bone.
It looked like the bone became a sword cutting practice dummy for a long time.
"That’s not scratches," the professor muttered, slowly putting his hands on the bone. "No modern weapon can even make a single scratch on a Mythical Beast’s bone. These are...words. That’s the Ancient Humans’ language—"
As soon as the professor’s hands touched the bone, the ’letters’ suddenly lit up with a golden light before the professor recoiled his hands away.
A single drop of blood was left behind where he touched it, which was slowly being absorbed directly into the bone.
It took a moment before the bone’s golden glow dimmed, showing that the professor wasn’t the ’one’ it was looking for.
"I’ve tested this out on other people," Zovirru said. "The bone accepted none of them, including me. But just recently... it reacted. It resonated with something—something that caused that earthquake."
Everyone stared at the bone. They all thought that Zovirru cracked the Antique, which caused that strange event.
But if it wasn’t him, then who?