Dead or not, they kept on fighting. I have to admit I was impressed. I mean, I was already impressed by how powerful they were, and how flashy their powers were; but this time I was moved on a different level. It was hard to describe… something about facing an unbeatable foe, refusing to back down. Trying to at least tear them down to hell with you! I had a flashback – two friends, usually pretty goofy and fun, staring down death and choosing to go all in. The whole thing was suddenly surreal to me: Was I even really here? Would I suddenly wake up in a coma, having had the most screwed up dream in the history of mankind?

I don’t think I could have handled all this if it wasn’t for the soul-form. Not having blood pressure, a heart, or lungs makes it pretty hard to hyperventilate, pass out, and drown in your own vomit. Which is exactly what I felt like doing.

But I kept on watching, unable to look away, unable to faint. Maybe I was being harder on myself than I should have been though. For all I know, I would have been a lot braver than I thought. After all, bravery isn’t a lack of fear; it’s a refusal to give in and let the fear rule you. I mean, I did manage to nuke myself. But, deep down, I suspect I wouldn’t have been able to do it without Mark being there with me. I was sending him thought-mail over and over, trying to will him to come online and talk me through this… but… nothing.

I was in the middle of trying to use my mind to set the god beast on fire (it didn’t work), when I sensed a loud but distant noise – boom… booom…. booooom… Booooom….BOOOOOOM – getting closer and closer (and louder and louder). Great, that’s all we need, another god beast. I was just trying to think about how to compose a good farewell message for Mark when I saw a figure running through the rooftops.

And I mean THROUGH the rooftops. Nary a tile was left behind as the figured jumped from rooftop to rooftop, moving with such speed and force that the surface he landed on was destroyed halfway through his next jump, flying into the air behind him in a cloud of dirt and debris. It was moving crazy fast, like sports-car-on-the-autobahn fast. And, just like watching a speeding car drive by you on the highway, it was going to be upon us before anyone really had time to react.

I noticed, as it got closer, that there was a spray of red on the streets around it; the bodies of shadow wolves were flying up ten, twenty meters into the air, forming vast fountains of blood on the six or seven streets around the approaching figure. Next thing I knew, a massive gust of wind knocked everyone to the ground except for the god wolf, as a figure dropped right in the middle of the chaos below.

It was a man. An old man, actually, wearing ragged clothes that barely covered his body. Whaaaaaattttt thhhheeee fuuuuuuuuccccc…. My thoughts broke off as he reached out casually, grabbing the god-wolf by the scruff of its neck. Wait, was he here to help us, or was he the wolf’s parent? I found out the answer to that question way faster than I would have liked.

The old man (honestly, he looked homeless…) jumped easily onto the roof next to the bonfire, and then proceeded to stick the wolf on the fire after quickly snapping it’s head around backwards, whistling like this was the most normal thing in the world. As he turned back around he gave a start, did a double-take, and looked straight at me. At this point, I was so far beyond fear that I didn’t even react. Hmm, I wonder if he likes roast soul-cloud too. I bet I tasted great with pickles!

He raised an eyebrow as his gaze followed my soul-rope back to where it exited the roof, and moved over to examine it, waving a hand back and forth right through me. I mentally cringed as hard as I could, but felt… nothing! He also didn’t appear to be able to tell where my attention was focused, or he was just ignoring me, as while he was inspecting my soul-rope, he never looked at me (if that makes any sense).

He stared up and down my soul-rope again, reaching up to scratch his (dirty) hair. Then he started whistling again and hopped off the roof. It did NOT take him long to slaughter the rest of the wolves… I think he actually cleared the entire village in the time it took me to get halfway back through the floor. That’s right, I was running away. HE COOKS GOD WOVES ON BONFIRES! Damn straight I tried to run.

By the time he got back most of the hair had burnt off of the wolf, but it wasn’t even remotely cooked. Of course, that didn’t stop him as he ripped off a chunk of its skull (flesh bits and all) and tossed it in his mouth. I know that things like cow-face are a delicacy in some parts of the world I came from, but holy crap! As for me? He glanced in my direction now and then, more curious than anything I suppose, but did nothing to stop me from fleeing back through the floor.

As I went I started to hear cheering and chanting. It was a word I had heard before, I couldn’t place it. Anyway, what they were chanting was the word ‘Merrik’, over and over. But they added an honorific to it, which I think made it into something like a title? So I guess it would be, maybe, ‘the Merrik’? I had no idea.

When I was about halfway through getting back into my body I was jarred and my entire soul-rope began to move as one. I had a mental image of the old man sucking me up through a straw, a nice dessert after finishing his delicious wolf-face sashimi.