While In America, We Travel Through A Fairy Tale World Together!
Chapter 15 - Little Red Riding Hood's Day of Suffering!

Chapter 15: Little Red Riding Hood’s Day of Suffering!

Rhodes grinned, his sharp fangs gleaming with bloodlust.

“Take a guess, how many minutes do you think it’ll take for me to kill you?”

“Roar!”

The giant wolf howled, its blood-red eyes brimming with madness. It leapt into the air, lunging at Rhodes.

Bang!

Rhodes threw a punch, landing it squarely on the side of the wolf’s face. As if struck by a cannonball, the wolf’s face visibly twisted and deformed from the impact. The crucifix necklace in Rhodes’s hand glowed with holy light.

Sizzle!

It was like pouring acid wherever it touched the wolf, its fur and flesh instantly corroded, revealing bare, white bone beneath. The giant wolf howled in pain, flung through the air. For the first time, fear filled its eyes as it looked at Rhodes. That single punch had done more damage than the earlier point-blank shotgun blast.

The wolf struggled to its feet, the side of its face grotesquely eaten away by sacred silver. Even the powerful regenerative abilities of a werewolf were useless now.

“Is that all you’ve got? You’re disappointing me here, come on.”

Rhodes’s fists, wrapped with the crucifix like brass knuckles, repeatedly pounded the werewolf’s skull. In mere moments, the once-ferocious beast lay motionless on the ground, as if dead. Its chest rose and fell weakly on the verge of death.

“Please… don’t kill Grandma!”

A pleading voice came from behind. It was Little Red Riding Hood.

Rhodes’s eyes flared with animalistic savagery. He turned and gripped her neck with one hand, lifting her like a doll. His brutal gaze was full of bloodthirsty instinct.

“You’re telling me what to do?”

Little Red’s face twisted in pain, but she continued to plead. She seemed oblivious to the giant wolf that her grandmother had become. Tears streamed down her innocent, tear-streaked face. Her generous gifts, like two ripe coconuts…

Rip!

His sharp fingers lightly tore through the fabric of her red dress. A jagged tear ran from her chest to her abdomen, exposing flawless, alabaster skin. Her waist, lithe yet toned, bore a pressure it shouldn’t have to.

Wild instinct consumed Rhodes’s mind; only one thought remained.

Crush her.

Little Red’s body was the epitome of Western ideal proportions. Slender, muscular, and aesthetically perfect. A classic pear-shaped figure: full up top, a curvaceous rear, thighs with a hint of softness, and slender calves.

In modern terms, she’d be a top supermodel with thousands of admirers. Standing at 170 cm, nearly a meter of that was legs that made her stand out more than the other women. Among women or even men, she couldn’t be considered short. But in front of a three-meter-tall werewolf, it was like comparing Black Widow to the Hulk.

Rhodes, consumed by primal instincts, gripped her golden hair and slammed her head against the wall.

Who knew how long the unending torment lasted… Eventually, the primal rage cooled. Rhodes looked around the ravaged wooden cabin with a hint of helplessness. In werewolf form, he could retain some reason. But the balance between instinct and control was fragile. Once triggered, instinct would seize control.

He could suppress his bloodlust, but not the primal, overwhelming desires within him. Perhaps, his body had an unusually high need for those things. His physique was too powerful. Hormones secreted in excess, he was like a machine built to produce desire.

He could restrain himself under normal conditions. But in werewolf form, those urges were magnified tenfold. He looked at the unconscious Little Red. Aside from pain, her face bore a faint trace of satisfaction*.

TL/N: Here, Little Red is the one showing the satisfaction even in pain, not Rhodes.

Rhodes found it strange. This level of intensity would have killed any normal person or at least left them half-dead. But she had withstood it on her first encounter.

Could the people in this world really possess such ridiculous endurance and bodies?

Then, he remembered the blonde woman from the inn who almost died without him even transforming or getting serious. So it wasn’t that people in this world were abnormally tough. Just that Red Riding Hood was different.

It was hard to believe that such a delicate body could possess such extreme resilience and adaptability. To have endured his werewolf form on the first try meant she had potential. With proper training, she could be a perfect tool.

“Grandma Wolf…”

Rhodes walked up to the dying werewolf. Unlike the fairy tale, the wolf hadn’t eaten the grandmother. Instead, the grandmother had become the wolf.