The Man Whose Beloved Girlfriend Was Stolen Destroys Everything ~After Being Forced to Witness the NTR Scene, What Awaited Him Was a Dungeon.

Episode 5: The White Werewolf I

The instant both feet planted firmly on the stone paving of the stage, a dome-shaped, translucent barrier shimmered into existence, enveloping the entire platform. At the same moment, on the opposite side, a monster was “born.”

〈…………〉

A dignified, almost regal aura cloaked its form—pure, lustrous white fur without a single stain. Its eyes carried the unmistakable glint of a predator, yet unlike the Night Wolf’s savage hunger, these held the cold precision of a true hunter.

In a single word: an elegant werewolf.

And the moment I laid eyes on it, a question bloomed in my mind.

Werewolves were supposed to be the A-rank evolved form of Night Wolves. Their build grew closer to humanoid, and the innate ferocity they already possessed only deepened. Even after evolving, the black fur from their Night Wolf days was “inherited.”

That was what I remembered, at least.

But this thing… everything about it was the complete opposite.

Not a trace of black. Pure white from head to toe. Clearly anything but “normal.”

Only one possibility made sense: this was one of those exceedingly rare special individuals among monsters—a Unique Monster. In which case, its rank would be elevated by one full tier… straight to S-rank.

“…Jumping from B-rank all the way to S-rank? That’s not something I signed up for.”

The realization hit, and a wave of raw tension coursed through me. Sweat began to bead along my skin; the Night Wolf Black Fur suddenly felt oppressively hot.

There was already an insurmountable gap between B-rank and A-rank monsters. To face something two full ranks higher—an S-rank—the difference in power was nothing short of hopeless.

Worse still, there was no escape route. That translucent something—most likely a barrier—had sealed this space shut, preventing any retreat.

In short: a one-on-one deathmatch against this white werewolf. It would only end when one of us lay dead.

“…!”

The sheer despair of the situation threatened to crush me. But the moment lasted only a heartbeat—then I forced myself into a combat stance.

The werewolf moved.

In that instant, an overwhelming pressure flooded the arena. The motion itself wasn’t especially large. It simply began walking toward me—calm, unhurried.

And yet my feet felt nailed to the floor. I couldn’t move an inch.

Eventually it towered directly in front of me—a wall of white.

I raised my gaze fearfully… and met its eyes.

“H-ha… haha…”

A crooked, awkward attempt at a grin stretched across my face. And then—

“…Kah…!!”

—Blackout. Air forcibly expelled from my lungs. A dull, throbbing pain exploded across my face; something thick and wet trickled from my nose.

I had no idea what had happened. No clue what had been done to me.

My vision flashed black for a split second. When it cleared, the werewolf’s back appeared even higher— No. I was the one on the ground.

I wasn’t nearly thick-skinned enough to just lie there in a situation like this. So why was I down…? The answer was obvious.

An attack so fast I couldn’t even perceive it. Even with my status explosively boosted from all those level-ups, I hadn’t been able to react at all.

“…!?”

Immediately after, an ominous presence prickled my instincts. I jerked my head to the left on pure reflex.

A deafening boom exploded beside my ear. I looked— the werewolf’s fist, hard as bedrock, had smashed deep into the stone paving right where my head had been.

Pure, unmistakable killing intent.

Unlike the Night Wolf, which had reveled in cruelty, this thing had come to end me from the very first second—no games, no hesitation.

“Shit…!”

I ducked under its enviably long legs and launched myself at its back, throwing everything I had into a single strike—the same full-powered blow that had once cratered the dungeon floor.

The wind from my fist screamed past my ears as it slammed toward that wide-open rear—

“…Huh?”

—And never connected.

Next came an impact from the left—like being hit by a speeding car. My body launched into the air, bounced across the stone like a rubber ball, and crashed hard against the barrier.

“Gah…!!”

More air forced from my lungs. I tried desperately to inhale, but the breath wouldn’t come.

“Haah… haah…!!”

Overwhelming. Absolute. No matter how bravely I attacked, I could never win. Less than a minute of exchange had made that crystal clear.

The despair I’d felt facing the Night Wolf returned—late, but heavier. Visions of my own death flickered through my mind.

Torn apart. Crushed. Gouged. Bitten in half—devoured.

My body trembled at the future rushing toward me.

But it wasn’t fear. It wasn’t despair.

—I was trembling with joy.

A difficulty so immense that death loomed in every possible form. In other words: an opportunity. Overcome this, and I would take another massive step toward becoming a “glorious one.” I could not—would not—let this chance slip away.

My legs shook uncontrollably. My left arm, struck directly, now bent at an unnatural extra angle. If anyone embodied the phrase “covered in wounds,” it was me right now.

〈…………〉

I staggered to my feet, unsteady and drained. The werewolf hadn’t moved an inch since the exchange began. It simply watched.

Its eyes were not the deep crimson of the Night Wolf, but a clear, piercing sapphire. I had no way of knowing what it saw when it looked at me.

Some insignificant weakling far beneath its notice, probably.

But reflected in those eyes was—

“I’m going to do this…!!”

—me, grinning widely.