Royal Knight Deneva had been resting peacefully until her senses had caught the presence of White Claw. There was no in-between, she was awake, alert, and away from the Earl’s embrace within a single heartbeat. The second placed her out of the bed, assessing her surroundings. No threats. There was only one, outside. She moved to strap on her armor without a moment to lose.

The aura the maiden was projecting was not passive, it was aggressive. Someone was going to die if they hadn’t already. The fact that White Claw had gotten this far out of her room without an alarm raising could very well mean she’d been intentionally targeting something or someone.

“Den?”

“White Claw is loose, and looking for a fight.”

Her guards had begun sounding the alarm within half a second of the roar, a chime and a blinking red light within the Earl’s room. They were getting sloppy.

The doors opened and four knights stepped inside with their swords drawn.

Deneva had her own sword in her hand as she threw her aura at them, testing their intent. They didn’t flinch or deviate, they confirmed the Earl was alive, and that there were no threats in the room before sheathing their blades and kneeling in front of their captain. “Our orders?”

“Lock down the fort. Total state of emergency. Check every nook and cranny for dead or injured. Protect the Earl.”

“And you, ma’am?”

Deneva had not slowed in arming herself, putting on her helmet and, with a gesture of her hands, drawing her weapons from the corner. “I’ll handle White Claw.”

“Do not kill her.” The Earl commanded. “Keep her movements contained.”

She nodded. “May I use the pokeball?”

“According to Rick, it will likely push her aggression. And it might fail anyway if Rick used his own. Avoid it unless you see no alternatives.”

“Yes, my lord.”

She stepped outside through the balcony. The knights locked the meter-thick safety shutters behind her, turning the Earl’s chambers into the safest place in the city. Deneva hoped her lord would stay there, but she knew he’d inevitably want to confirm what was happening with his own eyes. She had to contain the target by then, at least partially.

White Claw’s aura thickened, snapping in reaction to Deneva’s presence, focusing on her. The roar that followed shook the air around her. Instinct made her move, raising her arms protectively.

In the split second between realizing the fight had already begun and hearing the roar, the stone masonry exploded around her. The blow against her forearms had been heavy, powerful enough to throw her through the balcony floor. Her body bounced against the slanted fortress wall, instinct and training kicked in, her sword lashed out to cut into the stone to give herself some control, to slow down.

White Claw did not give her the room to regain her footing. The feline had used what remained of the balcony to launch herself downwards. Her claws slammed against Deneva’s raised sword. She’d reinforced the weapon with her own aura, but inertia still won out, her body thrown downwards, her other blade remaining embedded on the fortress wall. A curse escaped Deneva’s lips. She twisted, preparing to unleash a burst of energy to correct her position. The aura from White Claw slammed against her like a tidal-wave, strong enough even the armor’s protective enchantments had not been able to avoid the temporary disruption.

The energy faltered and Deneva realized she would not be allowed the opportunity to wield her elemental energy outside of her body properly. Was this how White Claw hunted? By surrounding her target with her aura to disrupt their abilities?

White Claw bounded between the balconies as if the verticality of the castle was nothing to concern herself with. Each leap turned rock to dust, followed by a powerful blow that would knock Deneva away from any opportunity to regain her footing.

She was being juggled, kept midair by a foe that was aiming each blow with extreme killing intent.

Deneva had been dutiful and read about the Sabertooth and how they fought, what little there was available anyway. Yet White Claw did not match any of the descriptions. This was more like fighting a flying maiden, and her armor wasn’t going to protect her indefinitely. With her left, she blocked the next attack, and with her right, she summoned another sword. The instant she confirmed where White Claw would land next, she threw the blade. An explosion of elemental energy turned the balcony to rubble before White Claw could reach it.

A split second of delay from her next attack, and exactly the amount of time Deneva needed for her feet to meet the castle wall. Rock crumbled under her as she launched herself away from the fortress, a cloud of dust trailing behind her. She did not need to glance over her shoulder to confirm White Claw was following in her wake. Instead, she focused her elemental energy into the soles of her feet, condensing it, and then letting it out in an explosion to give herself more impulse. She’d need to get to the ground before her opponent did or-.

A series of bursts startled her. This time she did turn to look. Her eyes widened from within her helmet. White Claw was mimicking her technique, and she was using her absurd aura to apply it repeatedly. She was gaining on Deneva. It couldn’t be, shouldn’t be. If White Claw had known this technique earlier, she wouldn’t have stumbled when she’d blown the balcony up.

Had she been keeping it hidden? Or… it couldn’t be. Had she learnt it just from watching her use it once?

Deneva grit her teeth, preparing for the ground that was rushing up to meet her. Dismissing her swords, she summoned two shields in their stead. One aimed at the incoming White Claw, the other at the ground. She rushed her elemental energy to her arms and braced.

But the blow never came. White Claw’s aura had vanished, and with it, her presence.

Deneva hit the ground, pushing against it and leaping in search of the feline. Darkness, that was the Sabertooth’s greatest tool according to the books. It was clear White Claw had lunged into the shadows. The question was from where she’d emerge. Was she stalling to recover her breath from the extreme expenditure of energy she must have been pushing through? Deneva replaced the shields with a sword and a spear, careful as she ran towards the training fields. She could attempt to root White Claw out of her hiding spot, but if the fight continued, that would be the closest space to move the fight to. Anywhere else had the potential to harm-.

Deneva spun. The attack had come from her own shadow. Her sword met flesh, but the cut was superficial. The feline’s limbs were thick with elemental energy, protecting her from most of the bite from Deneva’s swords. And she recognized the technique, the exact one she’d used to prepare for when White Claw attacked her mid-fall.

This was no coincidence.

Again, the feline disengaged, diving into the shadows and emerging at a relative distance, watching Deneva.

White hair glowed under the moonlight, her claws glimmering, sharp as swords, her blue eyes piercing and angry. Wrathful.

The feline’s aura surged back, and this time the knight knew exactly what to expect as White Claw jumped back into the fray, the aura lashed towards her left, and the claws came from the right, the aura came down on her like a hammer and the blow would as an uppercut. This Deneva knew how to handle far better, weaving her way through the blows and trusting her armor to absorb the damage to give herself an edge over the feline.

Deneva was faster and with longer reach. Her blade would land two shallow cuts for every single strike White Claw made. The feline was pushing aggressively, however, her aura pushed harder, stronger, and thicker. Every blow was just as fast but came with ever greater force. The creak of metal betrayed the power as the shadow wreathed maiden was pressing through the counters and defensive cuts through sheer grit.

Every time their blows met, the ground would rumble underneath their feet.

The royal knight did not hesitate, but she felt something was off. White Claw was trying to bring the fight to a quick end. Blue eyes glinted with desperation, flinching but not from Deneva’s own sword. Something else was happening within the maiden. But it was not something she could focus on. If White Claw kept pressuring her like this, then it wouldn’t take long before Deneva would start losing too much ground and she’d be forced to bring out all her blades.

But her lords’ orders had been to contain, not to kill.

Maybe if-.

“Monica!”

The shout startled White Claw, and determination turned into desperation. She reached out in an attempt to grasp Deneva, looking just about ready to let herself get stabbed if it meant she could throw the royal knight somewhere else. Deneva weaved around the grasp, punishing the ill-timed attempt with her blade, slicing the palms, but her blade didn’t dig deep enough to sever the tendons.

“Monica!”

A figure was moving closer, and White Claw had switched from claws to fists. Shoving Deneva back even as the cuts on her forearms were multiplying with every strike. The knight’s own armor cracked with the concussive force.

Deneva had a chance to spot who had been calling out to Monica.

Under her visor, her eyes widened in shock.

Rick Cross, the human, bare chested and holding a sword. His body was littered with a dozen bloody scratches, places where the debris of their battle had struck him.

“Monica!”

His eyes blazed.

And Monica hesitated, her gaze filled with dozens of different emotions.

To Deneva, it was the perfect chance to bring the fight to an end. Her spear spun as she lunged to attack with its blunt end, intent on striking a debilitating blow.

Yet her instincts warned her of danger, and her eyes looked back at Rick Cross. His eyes glowed with a dim blue light, his aura a ghostly reflection of White Claw’s.

Deneva felt as if fangs were sinking into her throat.

She froze, eyes wide, obscured under her visor.

Rick held her gaze as he continued his approach, each footfall made White Claw flinch, her shoulders trembling and head lowering. The blade in his hand swung amateurishly, he had no discipline or control, he was human, weak.

And yet Deneva felt her focus on him as if he posed as much a threat as White Claw had moments prior.

Rick grasped Monica’s hand, her claws were sheathed, the contact drained any fight left within her.

“Come.”

White Claw nodded slowly. Her shoulders slumped, head lowering, her tail drooped and her ears flat. The aura was gone, the fighting was over. It was as if she was an entirely different being than the blood-thirsty entity from just thirty seconds ago.

Deneva could only observe in shocked silence.

Rick took White Claw by the hand and marched out, followed by the white haired maiden.

Silence reigned over the courtyard. The knights quietly made way for them.

Deneva felt more than one set of eyes upon her, dimly, she realized she’d frozen mid-strike and not relaxed her pose until the two had been entirely out of sight.