CHAPTER 375: CHAPTER-375.

Kaya just stared for a second, dumbfounded.

*What the hell... when did he even get in here? When did THEY get in here?*

She replayed the last few moments in her head and realized something that made her skin prickle. While she was busy trading blows with this one bastard in front of her, two more had already slipped inside the room. She hadn’t heard a single step. Not a breath. Nothing.

Her attention had been so locked on her own fight that the whole world around her went dark.

That was fine against one enemy.

Against a pack? It was how people died.

Her gaze dropped further—and then she saw it.

Under Cutie’s foot, pinned to the floor like trash, was a hyena‑looking beastman. Human form, but there was no mistaking it. The greasy hair, the stretched grin, the beady eyes that still twitched even half‑conscious. No matter how much a beastman changed shapes, some things didn’t wash off.

You look at a hyena’s face once, you know.

Even in human skin, the *disgusting* never really leaves.

For the first time since this started, a strange mix of emotions hit Kaya at once.

Relief—because she wasn’t actually fighting alone.

Fear—because enemies had gotten this close without her even noticing.

And something heavier in her chest, almost like anger at herself.

She had always thought of herself as the sharp one. The hunter. The one who saw danger early.

But right now, Cutie had grabbed one, crushed another under his heel, and moved without her even noticing.

It made her realize two things very clearly:

One, these intruders were not ordinary at all.

Two, neither were the people standing quietly at her side.

Kaya suddenly stepped back, then took another quick step, boots scraping against the floor as she jumped three, four steps back in a row.

While she’d glanced at Cutie for that one stupid second, this damn jackal decided it was the perfect time to kill her. He lunged for the spot she’d just left, claws slashing, but Kaya twisted away each time—back, sideways, around him—his strikes missing her by inches.

When he rushed in too close, she stopped retreating. She swung. The broken chair piece in her hand smashed into the side of his head with a hard crack. This time the wood couldn’t handle it; it snapped in her grip, splinters biting into her palm and leaving a thin, stinging scratch.

"Damn it," she hissed, flexing her fingers once to make sure they still worked.

The jackal staggered, blood running down his face, dripping from his jaw onto the floor. When he lifted his head again, his anger was on a whole different level—no more mocking, no more playing.

In his eyes, Kaya could read it clear as day:

’For me, today... either you live, or I do.’

Kaya’s shoulder slammed into the table as she twisted away from his claws, breath burning in her throat. The jackal came at her again and again—jump, swipe, snap of teeth—each strike close enough that she felt the air bite against her skin. Wood splinters slid under her boots, the room full of harsh sounds: his growl, her breath, the dull ’thud’ of his feet hitting the floor. She parried one slash with the broken chair leg, the impact jolting all the way up her arm, then slipped sideways, letting him crash past her and stagger.

In the middle of that rush, a thought hit her, sharp and out of place.

’Wait. If beastmen follow their animal nature... then why is a jackal fighting like this?’

Jackals were scavengers. Cowards. The type that lurked in the dark, snatching scraps and running when real danger came. They were supposed to be sly and weak, not charging in like frontline warriors.

Kaya shifted back a step, eyes narrowing, and really looked at him. Under the rage twisting his face, there was something else—his jaw locked too tight, eyes too steady for someone who wanted to live. There was no flinch, no fear of dying. Just that heavy, dead look of a man who had already thrown his life away before even stepping through the door.

A cold confusion slid down her spine.

’Why the hell does a jackal have the expression of someone who decided to die... before he even came in here?’

Kaya ducked under another wild swing, the jackal’s claws whistling past her ear. She wanted answers, but like hell could she just throw her hands up in the middle of this and say, "Wait a minute, time out—excuse me, mister, why do you want to kill me so much?"

Yeah, right. The only language this bastard understood was pain. If she wanted the truth, she’d have to beat it out of him, maybe even kill him. The real answer, the full story, she knew she’d only get from that damn Sparrow later. These guys hadn’t come here for her. Every move, every word they’d thrown out pointed at the same thing—they’d come for Sparrow.

Kaya twisted her body, barely dodging a punch that sliced the air in front of her nose. Her teeth ground together; rage pounded in her veins hotter than the fear. She wanted to know what the hell that damn god had done—what Sparrow had dragged onto them—that made these people break into wolf‑tribe territory and try to slaughter them like this.

Another lunge .

His claws sliced straight for her throat.

Kaya dropped low.

His arm cut through empty air as she slid under it, the floor digging into her boots, the smell of his sweat and blood thick around her.

As he over‑reached, she drove her elbow hard into his ribs, felt something give with a dull crack and heard his breath burst out in a sharp grunt.

He staggered, but still swung down at her with his other hand.

Kaya caught his wrist with both hands, twisted, and used his own weight to yank him forward.

His balance broke for just a second—that was all she needed.