“Watch out!” Rowan shouted, attempting to raise the alarm before the new arrival struck, but he was too late.

With a sickening crunch, the shadow’s arms pierced Onder’s back, penetrating his armour like paper and emerging through his chest. Dumbfounded, Onder stared at the two hands that had just grown from his chest, his twinblades dropping from his grip as he staggered forward.

Its job done, the shadowy figure removed its hands, watching as the jackalman took another step forward before collapsing, blood streaming from the two fresh holes in his body.

For a moment, the only movement on the battlefield was the duel between Geski and the direwolf, both so engaged in their fight that neither had noticed the action behind them. The others, however, did, and Klou was the first to break the silence.

“Onder!” Klou’s cry was raw, full of rage towards his friend’s killer, and he channeled that emotion into action as he charged the shadowy figure.

Behind him rushed Geneser, his spear at the ready as he glanced towards the corpse of Onder, perhaps hoping that his companion might still be saved. A foolish hope, Rowan thought. Although he understood the man’s sentiment, he did not need to be a healer to know that the slayer was dead. Thanks to healing magic, many otherwise life-threatening wounds were survivable, but two giant holes through the chest were not among them.

As Klou clashed with the shadow, Rowan finally got a good look at it, his breath catching as he beheld its form. Tall, with a cloak of black fur that draped around it like wings, the newcomer had the face of a wolf and the body of a man, albeit covered in dark fur. Two paw-like hands tipped with razor sharp claws dripped with blood, and it was these hands that it used to strike at Klou, dodging his strike with supernatural speed and going instantly for the throat.

Barely getting his shield up in time, Klou deflected the slash, his leg kicking out to catch the beast in the calf, but a quick jump took it over the strike, and a leg of its own sent Klou staggering backwards clutching his side, blood spilling from where the sharp claws on its hindlegs had torn through his armour.

“Gah!” Klou let out a cry of pain. “It’s a Fenraith!”

Geneser’s spear prevented the Fenraith, as Rowan had heard Klou call it, from following up, and a quick heal took care of Klou’s wound. Standing straight, Klou glared balefully at his foe, his axe and shield raised as he tilted his head towards Geneser in thanks.

The brief tussle seemed to have restored some of Klou’s sanity, and he approached the Fenraith with far more caution the second time around, not giving it an opening to strike as he and Geneser pressured it.

“Onder?!” Geski’s cry rang out across the field, his gaze falling across his fallen friend as the direwolf danced out of the way of his sword. Unlike Klou, the dominant emotion in Geski’s voice was not rage, but heartbreak, his voice cracking as he stared at his friend’s corpse. Clearly, the two had been close, and now one was dead, while the other still lived.

Had Lekaar not reacted in time, Geski may have fallen, so engrossed was he in the sudden death of his companion that the direwolf nearly took his throat within its jaws. However, the sudden appearance of two long daggers in its rear caused the wolf to come up short, its snout twisting into a grimace of agony as it whirled on the new arrival.

“Keep fighting!” Lekaar shouted at Geski, who nodded stupidly. Under normal circumstances, Rowan was sure that the jackalman would have berated Lekaar for daring to speak to him in such a way, but right now he seemed broken, the death of his friend having consumed his ability to react.

Before Geski could attack, however, Klou’s voice rang out across the battlefield.

“Geski, come help us with this climber bastard! Lekaar, keep the other one busy.”

At these words, Lekaar’s eyes widened in fear, his ears twitching as his boss told him to take on one of the most dangerous brass-tier bosses alone, but Geski simply nodded, retreating from the direwolf as he headed to the other fight, leaving Lekaar alone against the boss.

With no way to go against Klou’s orders, Lekaar was forced to stand alone against the black wolf, his two daggers almost pitifully small against the enormous beast in front of him. In a way, it almost looked comical, the short mouseman against the enormous direwolf, but there was nothing funny about the jaws that lunged towards him, nor the dagger-like claws that sought to eviscerate him.

The two fights unfolded side-by-side, eighty feet apart. Against the Fenraith, Geski, Geneser, and Klou moved as one, their weapons seeking the agile beast as it dodged, returning the favour with powerful blows from its clawed hands. From afar, there was a beauty to the way it fought, its graceful movements giving it the appearance of a dancer, whirling from partner to partner, never settling with one for long before moving onto the next, a deadly waltz of blade and claw.

On the other side, Lekaar was the one forced on the defensive, his expression frantic as he ducked and weaved every which way, doing his best to avoid the lethal attacks from the direwolf. Twice, the mouseman narrowly avoided death, Rowan’s breath catching as he watched the direwolf’s jaws close around empty air.

Two fights, six participants, and only one group could make it out alive. As the battle continued, both sides began to accumulate wounds, blood staining the grass red as both parties intensified their assault, each seeking to annihilate the other.

“Ha!” Geneser thrust his spear forward, the Fenraith twisting to allow it to pass. Bending forward, it avoided Geski’s greatsword, the enormous blade cutting through the area it had just occupied. With a feral grin, the Fenraith sprang at Geski, still off-balance from his attack.

*SLICE*

A powerful blow from Klou’s axe caught the Fenraith in the back, biting deeply into the fur and muscle beneath. Stumbling forward, it received another blow, this time from Geneser, his spear sinking deeply into its thigh.

“Awhoooo!” Tilting its head back, the Fenraith let out a terrible howl, one that sent chills down Rowan’s spine. This was not the howl of a wolf but of an ancient predator, one with cunning and intelligence beyond its beastly peers.

At the sound of the Fenraith’s howl, the direwolf on the other side of the field let out a loud snarl, intensifying its attacks as it sought to end the troublesome rogue before it. Where Lekaar had been barely hanging on before, now he was completely overwhelmed, the savagery in the direwolf’s assault forcing him to ignore offense in order to survive.

Heedless of the openings it was giving the creature in front of it, the direwolf continued to rampage, claws, fangs, and body all moving in deadly synchrony as it sought to put an end to Lekaar’s efforts to keep it occupied in order to head over and help its lupine companion.

“Help me!” Lekaar pleaded to anyone who could hear, his eyes desperate as he looked towards Rowan for assistance.

Concealed in the shadow of the door, Rowan was monitoring the fight, unable to step in against either of the two monsters that confronted them. Not that he wanted to anyways. As someone that valued his life, Rowan recognized the danger that the beasts in front of him represented. The moment things turned south for the party, he was gone. Lekaar’s plea threw a wrench in those plans however.

Locking eyes with the mouseman, Rowan took in his pitiful state.

Blood dripped from numerous wounds, Lekaar’s armour now shredded and tattered in the wake of the dire wolf’s assault. One of his daggers was bent at the tip, the wolf’s bone having proved too powerful for it to break, and the other was broken in the middle, a sacrifice to the beast’s powerful jaws. Hunched over from exhaustion, Lekaar barely avoided another attack, his movements dull after two long minutes fighting the boss alone. It was evident to see that he was quickly approaching his limits, and apparently, he had realized that too.

“Help!” Lekaar pleaded once more, his voice almost inaudible over the din of battle coming from his companion’s fight. Another strike hit him, his dodge a moment too late, and he was sent spinning to the side, narrowly avoiding the jaws that would have sent him to the afterlife. Completing the spin, Lekaar looked to Rowan for help, his eyes begging him to assist.

You should help. The thought caused Rowan to shift, his hand on the hilt of his sword; however, the sight of the direwolf advancing on Lekaar gave him pause. You will die. The insidious thought rose to the front of his mind, preventing further action. On the field, Lekaar dodged another swipe, the claws slicing the tips from his whiskers as it sailed by.

Help me! Lekaar’s eyes screamed, his gaze frantic now as he once again looked to Rowan for assistance.

He’s going to die, Rowan told himself, trying to force his legs to move out from the shadows in which he hid. And if you go there, you will too, the rational side of his mind argued back. You’re not strong enough to interfere in this fight. Lekaar was a dick towards you anyways, why would you help him?

He doesn’t deserve to die for that. The war in Rowan’s mind raged, but in the end, rationality wore out. Rather than help, Rowan sank back further into the shadows, disappearing from Lekaar’s sight as the hope disappeared from his eyes, his only path to survival severed by the one he had hoped to be his saviour.

Tired from the bloodloss, and the accumulation of too many wounds, Lekaar stumbled, his movements dull. This was all the opening his foe needed.

With a crunch, the wolf’s jaws closed around Lekaar’s waist, picking him up as it shook him violently from side to side like a ragdoll, the sound of bones cracking mixed with Lekaar’s screams, though those faded far too quickly.

As the life faded from his eyes, Rowan did not break away, intent upon witnessing Lekaar’s life till the very end. This was the result his actions had wrought. To shy away now was to deny his own involvement in the death of the mouseman known as Lekaar. Closing his eyes to the brutality his powerlessness had caused would not grant him absolution, nor would it relieve him of the role he had chosen to play.

You couldn’t have saved him anyways. If you’d gone out there, it would be your body between those jaws. Rowan clung to those thoughts like a lifeline, telling himself over and over that there was nothing he could have done as he desperately staved off the looming feelings of guilt that threatened to overwhelm him.

At last, the wolf let Lekaar’s body fall, his ragged form still and lifeless as it dropped to the grass below. Having won the fight, the direwolf immediately turned, heading towards the other fight where its companion was in danger.

Things had not gone well for the Fenraith since its howl. The spear wound to its thigh had limited its mobility, preventing it from dodging with the same easy grace that it had exhibited before. Relieved of its most powerful defensive tool, the Fenraith had sustained several large injuries, including a fresh cut across the chest, Klou’s blade painting a bloody scar of red through the thicket of black fur that covered it.

Raising his axe, Klou made to deliver another blow, this time to the neck, but a sudden shout from Geneser caused him to move. It was this decision that saved him, the direwolf’s jaws clamping shut around where his head had been a moment previous as it leapt in between the party and the injured Fenraith, Klou’s swordarm now held tight within its bloody maw.

With a cry of pain, Klou collapsed, but Geski did not, and his greatsword severed the head of the Fenraith, the direwolf unable to block his strike as it had Klou’s. As the Fenraith’s head fell to the ground, the direwolf growled, a low utterance that seemed to promise vengeance on the one who had injured his master.

“Protect us!” Geneser shouted at Geski, running to Klou’s side as he began to heal the injured party leader.

With a resolute stance, Geski stepped in between the direwolf and his two remaining party members, his greatsword at the ready. For a moment, neither moved, and then both exploded into action.

Their fight was like no fight Rowan had ever seen. Technique, talent, defense, all was tossed aside in favour of pure, undiluted savagery. Blood flowed freely, neither direwolf nor jackalman willing to stop until the other fell.

It was Geneser who ended the battle, his spear piercing the wolf’s chest as he rejoined the fray, Klou kneeling awkwardly where he had left him. Taking advantage of the opening provided, Geski lopped off the beast’s head, at last bringing the terrible battle to a close.