The wolf's eyes grew in surprise, but instead of stopping its heart pounded father in anticipation of what his opponent could do and what he would do to counter it. He was growing ever curious and he grew more aggressive to match his extreme temper. His flames had become so intense, that their violet luster started to fade and become pale and began to resemble grey over purple.

"HUNGRY!" it would seem the boy grew more desperate with each passing moment. His moments became more chaotic as his torn and scarred arms swung remotely forward trying to grasp the wolf. Every Time they touched even a hair or just a violet flame the boy had one his wounds heal and leave the wolf slightly weakened. The boy had seemed to find a way to steal the vitality of the wolf and make it his own, but even then it was a dangerous ordeal because a misstep would leave him open for an attack.

The wolf decided to confront the boy only after attacking him from afar. And so a barrage of violet balls of fire was launched from every direction as the wolf used its swift speed to run around the boy. The wolf would then run behind his opponent right as the ball of fire would come upon the boy and he was too busy to dodge the attack. The wolf was confident that this attack would be the one to decide it all. He was ready to finally reclaim his position as the best, at least for now.

The wolf's eyes opened wider than ever, filled with a purple light that shone with a dark grey hue that spread across the sides of the mouth as they overflowed with power. He bit down on the boy with a force that would destroy rocks with ease. However, the young that was met with the full brunt of the attack had an outstretched arm with a palm open on the wolf's heart that drained all power from him. As the boy's hair and flesh melted away, his eyes still burned with a hunger that outmatched his flames. The wolf would have accepted his fate if not for the mania and loss of blood that made his mind be on a high that did not accept anything other than the boy's loss.

So the wolf closed its eyes as if entering sleep, but that was not the case at all. Right now he was pulling its last card that it never would because it was complete madness that his instincts rushed to stop him, but death was death. One way or another he would die, but at least he would not die alone. And so the manic flames lost the last bit of sanity that chained them from their master, essentially giving them a life of their own and releasing all the power within the wolf at once.

Greyish flames erupted in all directions, blowing the wind at a speed that would move large trees with ease as their power combed through the small forest. At the epicenter were mounds that resembled a large wolf and young boy, if not for that fact they were made of cinder.

They stood in their timeless fight that was inscribed in the flow of history. One seemingly the victor and the other the loser, but who was which?

Many would assume the larger wolf would have been the clear winner due to its size, but even with that, he was no match. And few would have said the boy in a joking manner. But the answer was so obvious that no one even thought of the answer.

The true victor was the survivor, and as of right, it would seem both had lost. But those encased in cinder would have something else to say about that. Crack!