The fighting that followed was… intense, to say the least. It was basically the three against the werewolf, though at times others tried to intervene as well. And still they couldn’t do actual damage. After a broken tooth, the beast learned to stay away from Kelunad. It simply bounded away whenever the orc tried to damage it. And that was because the martial leader was the only one who could, more or less, ‘let loose’. The other two mages had to be mindful of the others present. Regitris actually almost lost it again, unleashing a tidal wave of fire, but he managed to put it out himself before it reached the students.

Fortunately, that was when a singed Nahlil gave the command to retreat. They hadn’t been of much use anyway. Only himself, Sinestra and a few more Martials managed to inflict superficial wounds. The Ascentionalists barely even got to aim in time, to Michael’s shame. Though, Alex did manage to slow down the werewolf for a few seconds with a binding Spell. The young man probably soiled himself, when he saw the beast grunt at him, but he did it.

And that was when their shields got reinforced. When the remaining mages finally retreated, to let the big leagues hammer it out, dragging their downed allies. Alex spotted the two and half-carried Erea to them, as everyone went to their own groups. After reaching them, in quick succession, Erea kissed Michael, asked him if he saw her punch the werewolf and passed out.

“Mana burn.” Alex said. “She’ll be out for the rest of the fight. Assuming it ends.”

“Yeah. But you did great. Really lined up that shot for Ravena to take.”

“Thanks.” The young man said, crossing his arms. “But… I don’t think we’ll be able to take him. Not like this.”

“What do you mean?” Bob asked.

“Fighting him… even being around him. It was like I was constantly aware that I had no chance. Like… being cornered by a bear. You could try and scratch it, but you know you’re dead. That’s how it felt like to be there.”

“I see.” Michael said, looking at the three leaders. “Think that’s how they feel?”

“No.” Alex gave out a tired laugh. “Not at their level. But… if that thing manages to break past them, I don’t think there’s anyone in Gnosis able to stop it.”

“…how did you stop them last time?”

“Armies.” He simply said. “Besides, last time? Last time they didn’t get to be a lycan and learn as much magic as they wanted before turning into a werewolf.”

Michael nodded and resumed watching the fight. So. Magic. That was what made this beast so powerful. That roar which broke any Spell put against it. Those swipes that could clear a room. Maybe not Spells, but magic. Yet, as Michael watched, he saw a Spell too.

“|Spectral Claws|!” the werewolf roared and twin sets of gashes marred the stone walls of the hall.

Micah’s Spell. So ineffective back then. Turned into a mage killer by this beast.

“You will not leave this room alive, beast.” Regitris said.

“And I am to let you kill me, elf?” he snarled. “Is that to be my fate?”

“Could you not simply bury your nature?” Ravena asked, and she seemed desperate. “Live and let others live as well.”

“Could you let the forests burn? No. No sooner than I would learn to breathe water.”

“Why?” Kelunad asked.

“Because I remember. Do you know what the change does? It makes me remember. It makes me remember why we had died. For what we had died. And who killed us.” He said and pointed at Regitris. “And for each lycan in my bloodline that had lived their lives as half-wolves, for each brother and sister chained and yanked around like dogs, I gain blood-lust. I gain rage and fury and power for each wolf that turned lycan.”

Oh. So that’s why he’s so strong.

“Why fight?” the orc asked. “Tell me and we might not battle.”

“Kelunad!” Regitris grunted.

“No. Orc or elf or human. It matters not to us. Only one held the knife, but the others stabbed as well. Nature died. Is dying. Will die out. And when we tried to undo your hubris, you called us monsters. No. No. Never again!”

It had grown more and more incensed as it talked, before finally howling.

“|Sundering Claws|, |Darkiron Fur|, | Apex Predator Aspects|, |Howl of Fear|.”

And then it howled. And then night fell. Or at least, that’s what it felt like. Michael had no idea how the three were still standing so close to it. He would run. He would get his friends and run. Fuck this place and fuck that. There was no way he’d be sticking around. Erea was fretting in her sleep and he was holding onto her for dear life. Alex was on the ground, too, wand out, but he was holding it like a dagger, eyes wide in fright. Only Bob was standing up, but even he was crouching. He had his arms around them, as if to pull them to safety, but he didn’t flinch. Deer in the headlights.

The other students and faculty members were the same. No one spoke. No one breathed too hard either. Keep silent, seem small and maybe you’ll not get eaten. And in that silence, a voice spoke.

“Artificial fear.” Kelunad said. “You lack honor.”

“Maybe, but I can feel it nibbling away at the back of my mind.” Ravena continued. “Cute trick.”

“Enough.” Regitris said. “This ends.”

They attacked again, as one. Michael had no idea the three could coordinate that well. To tell the truth, he had no idea Regitris could even fight. He had seemed more like the researcher type. And still they couldn’t get the upper hand. Because for every vicious attack from the werewolf which left them with cuts and wounds that they had to spend Healing Potions on, they couldn’t afford to inflict the same kind of damage back.

If it was a normal attack, the monster weathered it, taking the hurt and either resisting it or having his wounds slowly close. If the attack was more powerful, then he danced out of the way, biding his time. And if Kelunad attacked from up close or it saw Regitris prepare a grand Spell, it jumped in front of the lycans, using them as living shields. It had an offense-focused intelligence and it was slowly winning. Michael wondered how much of the original student this werewolf resembled.

“Regitris.” The orc suddenly said. “This is a bad fight. Can you not force Gnosis into opening the doors?”

“Not without harming it. Perhaps not at all.”

“And that would only evacuate the others.” Ravena said. “Those lycans would still be his prisoners, assuming he doesn’t escape as well.”

“Then risks must be taken.” Kelunad gravely said, stopping mid dash.

“What?”

“Ravena, go to the students near the door. Raise your strongest shields. You are nearly depleted, but there are others there to help you.”

“Wh-“

“Regitris, go to the lycans. Raise your strongest shields.”

“I see. Strong enough to resist you, Kelunad?” the elf smiled.

“If you manage.” The orc smiled back.

“What… Can your little boy club maybe include me in the strategy?” Ravena snapped.

“I will fight. You and Regitris will ensure others do not die from watching me fight.”

Saying that, he strode forward, unfurling the package at his back. That must have been some kind of signal, for both Regitris and Ravena saw that and hurried to their respective sides. They raised their shields as Kelunad walked, addressing the werewolf.

“Do you have a name?”

“Not one fit for your kind.” The beast snarled.

“Then I shall not address you directly. I did not fight in the werewolf wars. But I have fought werewolves. Did you know there is a simple method by which one can overpower your natural resilience and regeneration?”

“And what would that be?”

“You cut. Over and over again, long and deep, until flesh starts to fall off.” Kelunad said, finally unveiling the object on his back. “I have noticed that werewolves stop regenerating once they lay on the floor in pieces.”

It was a sword, Michael thought. He’d been right about that. But the sword itself… It was made of pulsating waves of reddish magic. More like a magical organ than an object. Though it had an edge, translucent as it may be, only the handle looked solid. The rest of it was always changing, moving and glowing.

“An orc mage.” The werewolf said, spitting on the ground. “Wielding an artifact. Stain of your people.”

“Not just a mage. A Martial. I am Kelunad, |Martial Archmage| of Gnosis. And you are prey.”

He blurred forward after that. The werewolf tried to dodge, as always, but the orc struck with his sword. Which distended and elongated. It turned from sword to spear to lance. It struck the werewolf in the shoulder, penetrating his flesh, Spell or not. Only then did the orc speak.

“|Crimsonfire Bolt|”

Fire erupted and instantly started to spread along what seemed to be the werewolf’s veins, glowing from under his skin in a web-like pattern.

It works like a wand!

The beast screamed and ripped out a piece of his own flesh, but by then it was too late. The orc was on top of him. He punched and Michael heard cracks and a moan, after which he swung his sword again. No, not his sword. His hammer. It collided with the same shoulder he had hit before and it looked like that part of the werewolf’s body would never heal again. Yet once again the flesh started to mend.

He dashed away, howling, trying to reach the lycans, but only smashed onto Regitris’s barrier.

“There is no escape, fiend!” the elf snarled.

“Agreed.”

The sword, for it was a sword this time, didn’t elongate. It was, however, helped by a Spell.

“|Spatial Cut|”

The… space had been cut. Michael had no idea how to describe it other than the fact that a deep gash appeared on the beast’s back, from thirty feet apart. Yet that meant that the wolf now took things seriously. He didn’t attack Kelunad directly again. He didn’t retreat to the lycans. He used all of his energy to stay away from the orc and to dash away from the attacks.

Not that Kelunad let it go easily. Jets of fire, pillars of lightning and lances of stones shot out from his sword and hands. Yet the werewolf never stayed close enough for Kelunad to tag him. He always dodged. And more, he used Sells of his own. Now once the wolf had howled Kelunad’s attacks away, he took the chance to attack with a |Crimson Claws| Spell or other types of attacks. He had even managed to wound the orc a few times, though not seriously.

Yet, the wounds seemed to make Kelunad up his game.

“Running away like an animal. You know no honor.”

“I know survival, orc.” The werewolf snarled.

“Hmm. Then survive this. |Forced Fight|.”

That was a Skill.

The wolf flinched and snarled again, but there was fear now creeping into his expressions. He lurched one step ahead. Then another. Then he started walking towards the orc, slowly but surely.

“Damn you. You would slaughter me. You would cull me, like you did my entire people!”

“I would fight you.” The orc said. “Whether or not you die is your own merit.”

“Lycans!” the wolf shouted. “Which of you would die for me? Raise your hands to your throats. If I die, kill yourselves!”

Michael shivered, seeing the lycans raise their hands to their throats.

“I will not be stopped by petty games.” Kelunad stated.

“Kelunad! Don’t!” Ravena screamed.

But Michael saw something else. The lycans had raised their hands and a couple of them even wands, though not instructed, to their throats. Regitris had tried to stop them, but his magic failed as well. But not Micah. Micah had raised his hand, lurched and started to tremble. He was flinching, his hand spasming, but he wasn’t raising his hand all the way. A fact that the werewolf noticed too.

“That pup is… resisting me?”

“Spirit. Once more my children missed.” Kelunad smiled.

Micah fell down, his convulsions making him lose balance. He sat up again, trying to kneel and failing. He was kneeling on both knees. One hand was trying to aim, the other was grasping it tightly, pulling it away. His face was tight and focused.

“Do it, Micah! Fight him!” Michael screamed.

“Resist, my friend!” Bob hollered. “You are not beast, but lycan!”

“Break the bonds!” Alex suddenly screamed as well.

The werewolf had even stopped walking, though Kelunad’s Skill was making him tremble too.

“Kelunad, a moment!” Regitris yelled. “I may not be able to free them, but the boy is a lycan. Micah. Micah, break free, child. Break free and help your kin. Take them away from here!”

“…he’s… …resisting… …me…?” the werewolf spoke, teeth chattering from his tremors.

“He’ll soon break free, if I do not slay him.” Kelunad said. “I will not risk all. You have until then.”

Regitris looked at the lycans, looked at the werewolf, before looking at them again. With a frown, he let go of his barrier, stopped feeding it mana. He turned to Micah and began pouring Mana Potions directly on top of him.

“|Assisted Learning|, |Increased Focus|. Do it, child! |Will of Gnosis|. Do it. Break his hold on them and I will whisk you all to safety. But first you must break free!”

“Micah!” Michael screamed. “You ancestors were animals. Like this sick fuck! But they broke their own leashes. They became more than animals! You are not a werewolf, you do not listen to the top dog’s orders. You are a lycan!”

“And you are a Naturalist!” Ravena screamed as well, with what little breath she had. “We will protect the wilds, even if we must break ourselves in the process. I took you under my wing, Micah. Show me I was right!”

And slowly, but with an eye-popping grin, he saw Micah lower his hands, and straighten, breathing hard. But he had finally managed to sit up.

“Good.” Regitris breathed. “Can you wake the others? Pour our mana into them?”

“I- I think so, sir.”

“Then come. We must not-“

“You managed to disobey me, pup!” the werewolf suddenly shouted. “This can only end one way now. |The Last Hunt|!”

Kelunad sprinted into action at the same time as the werewolf started speaking. But it was too late. The orc roared a Spell, sounding like no words Michael had ever heard before, yet it passed right through the wolf. Michael saw it, as clear as day.

A… corridor had formed. The beast was running as if in slow motion. The corridor was both in the main hall… and not. For in the main hall Kelunad was sending slashes and mighty Spells towards the wolf. Ravena was abandoning safety and running forward in a mad dash. Regitris was raising his hands, his barrier glowing like a miniature sun.

But away from the main hall, in a world both here and not, there was only that corridor. A tunnel of sorts. On one end it had the werewolf, running at full speed, a vicious glee on his face.

And on the other end there was Micah. Standing there, with a fearful yet resigned look on his face.

Waiting to die.