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From that point onward, things moved quickly.
Aylia gathered her trembling maids and issued orders.

“Summon messengers. Tell the entire garrison to cease fire. We surrender to the Demon Lord’s Army.”

Oh, right—I should order my troops as well.

“I’m going to howl once. Don’t be scared—I’m just contacting my comrades.”

I spoke gently to the maids who nearly fainted at the sight of me, then howled out the window.

“Aooooon! Oo-oon! Aoo-oon!”

The windowpanes shook, and all the maids screamed and collapsed in fear. Some even peed themselves… Yeah, that’s on me.
Still, the message must have reached every corner of the city by now.

“Prey secured. Gather.”

Soon enough, I heard howls from my werewolves responding from across the city.

“On our way.”
“Obeying the leader.”
“No casualties here.”

I could hear the scuffle gradually subsided, indicating that the scattered skirmishes had ended. I hope none got killed unnecessarily.
Before long, the werewolf troops began gathering in the square before the governor’s mansion. Every one of them was a formidable wolfman or wolf-woman.
But they weren’t just my troops.

“Man, it’s been a while since we tore things up. My back’s killing me.”

A gray werewolf joked with me—it was old Wott, the kindly grandpa from my home village. In human form, he had white hair and a gentle smile.
Nodding nearby was Marie, the elderly goods-seller. Behind them shuffled my cousins: hardy fellows who grew up around me.
Basically, everyone here is either my relative or a family friend.
To werewolves, the pack is everything. Everyone in our village is part of that pack—and will fight along with you when it matters.
Still, werewolves are demons too.
And the one unbreakable rule of demons is absolute obedience to the strong.
Not even werewolves are exempt.

A few among them, suspicious of my authority, began to voice complaints.

“Hey Veit, is this half-baked plan really enough?”

A red-haired werewolf lashed out, clearly displeased. That’s Garne brothers, my cousins. I’m guessing that’s the younger brother, Niebert, who’s speaking.
The older brother, Gelbert, also chimed in with his own complain:

“Have you forgotten how many of our ancestors the humans slaughtered? We should’ve wiped them all out!”

These two were my childhood friends—and stronger than me even then.
They still had trouble accepting that I was the pack’s leader.

No helping it. With my still-human instincts, I prefer a peaceful takeover. But they need to see my strength before they’ll listen.
I jumped down from the second-story window and stepped in front of my cousins.

“Got something to say?”

As I did, the two took a glance at each other. I see now, did they think two-on-one might beat me?
True enough, Galbert stood forward.

“Yeah. If I were in charge, I wouldn’t do it this half-hearted way. If I were the commander!”

His height one head taller than mine, he emphasized that line with his cockiness.
Eager for combat, huh?
The other werewolves sensed the tension and backed off slightly. No one else seemed intent on challenging me.

I glared at the brothers.

“I am the commander. If you disagree—take me down first.”
“Are you sure about that?”

Niebert smirked.
Gelbert and Niebert were among the strongest in the pack—huge, muscular, well-trained. Back in the day, I’d never beaten them one-on-one.
But now I’m the vice-commander of the Demon Lord’s Third Division.

I laughed and said: “Only if you are sure to fight me.”

Then I howled.

But this was no casual howl. Shockwaves erupted from it, rattling trees and buildings. The windows of the governor’s mansion shattered.

“Ugh!?”
“Whoa!?”

Galbert and Niebert staggered. The rest of the werewolves stiffened and dropped to the ground in submission.
A werewolf’s howl inspires fear in humans and beasts alike. But for those who choose to fight, it’s not enough—and it fails against demons of equal or greater power. Of course, it has no effect on other werewolves either.
However, my howl was different. It was infused with strong magical energy, it’s a magic-enhanced howl.
I’m not just a warrior; I’m a mage.
Veit, werewolf mage and vice-commander of the Demon Lord’s Third Division—that’s who I am in this life.

This howl is one of my spells: Soul Shaker.
With a single roar, I manipulate ambient mana, reshaping it into demonic energy. Humans lose the ability to use magic; demons gain power.
And—critically—the roar induces intense fear in enemies.
No matter how brave, resistance is futile. It seals their minds with binding magic, like anesthesia.

As expected, the Garne brothers fell paralyzed.

“N… no…”
“Bro…!”

I could kill them both easily now. With that in mind, I strode forward.

Now that their guards are completely down, I pressed my fists on their solar plexus.
They trembled—and I smiled at them; “Trust me.”

At that moment, the spell wore off. The brothers regained control.

But they had lost all will to fight. Their wolf-ears drooped in disgrace.

Gelbert was the first to speak: “Y-yeah… okay… you’re our boss… I’ll follow.”

“Good.”

I smiled and addressed the entire pack once more:

“The Demon Lord’s Third Division has occupied Lüenheit ! From now on, engage only in self-defense!”

The werewolves bowed and swore loyalty.

Then I explained our plan calmly.

“Our goal is to control this trade city and bring it under the Demon Lord’s rule. Destroying the people or infrastructure doesn’t help our cause. Understand?”

“I don’t,” Niebert tilted his head. This time, not in defiance, but simply because he can’t wrap his mind around it.

The Garne Brothers have always been fierce and brave, but not the brightest. Never the brightest. So I broke my plan down to a werewolf’s term, so that even these muscleheads could understand:

“Listen! This city is a delicious fat stag for the Demon Lord’s Army to enjoy. It’s not ours to rip and shred and to throw in the gutter. Do that and I’ll kill you.”

“Ah, got it.” Niebert nodded vigorously. Whether he truly understood was another matter, but at least he seemed to get it.

Gelbert crossed his arms and muttered, “But can we really do that? Look at these humans, I feel their murderous intent all the way from over here.”

He wasn’t wrong. I could sense hostility from the townsfolk too.

“That’s my job. It’s something only I can handle. What you do is follow my orders to the letter.”

“S-, sure thing,” I fixed him with a look of command, and he nodded.

Then I addressed all the werewolves again:

“Now, I promise you that I will feed you well. If you want to hunt, go into the nearby forest and kill deer to your heart’s content. But, please, absolutely no attacking humans. Understood?”

Since the people I was speaking to were uncles and aunties from the neighborhood, I also found it difficult to use a commanding tone. Before I knew it, I was using honorific language.
But, my words seemed to be accepted fairly well.

“Hoho, it’s all good—we obey the Boss.”
“We’ve got to gear up for the next battle anyway.”

And since the veteran werewolves were so forthright, the younger werewolves didn’t seem to have any particular objections either.

“Hungry! Veit-bro, feed us!”
“And where we sleeping tonight? We not sleeping out in the woods, right?”
“Ah, shut up, punks! I’ll figure it out.”

Our pack was short on manpower—so we brought along everyone able to help, from elderly to children. The only ones left behind were the really old, the sick, and toddlers who couldn’t follow orders yet.
Visually, our werewolf unit was intimidating and crushingly strong—but the group’s rundown biography could be a community picnic. Most are county neighbors and relatives; two of the younger ones are just early teenagers.

There are about 3,000 townsfolk in Lüenheit . We have 56 werewolves. Even if we count the 200 dogfolks outside, it’s still too small a force to control a city this size.
Honestly… I’m starting to worry too.

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