Chapter 131: Big Bad Wolf.
We were, in a word. Caught between a rock and a hard place. Behind us was a teeming mass of bodies, seeking our flesh. Before us, a mountainous wolf the size of a building. Not just that, but the wolf was clearly a bronze rank. It felt nothing like the bronze minotaur from the blood moon, but… its presence was something else, wrong. Like the other wolves, its presence seemed to make the surrounding world lesser. With its imminent surrounds almost looking like all color was being bleached away.
Yet it was all part of the plan. In a single breath, a salvo was loosed. Crystal songs sang. The beast moved at the same time. Despite its size, it moved with surprising grace. Easily avoiding the bullets and ripping free from the building it was inside in the same motion.
I had enough time to reload and fire another salvo. Each bullet missed by a notable margin as it circled and approached, clear derision could be seen in its eyes, that, and an all-consuming hunger that had it leaving tendrils of drool in its wake.
All too quickly it came into range to attack.
Its maw snapped shut where I had been an instant prior. Only to be followed by a furious swipe of its paw. In response, my soldiers surged forward, with shields linked they took the blow while I thrust forward with my bayonet, forcing it to pull back.
In that brief moment of respite, I slammed new rounds into my rifle and turned, launching a salvo of explosive rounds into the teeming mass.
The damage, overall, was negligible, but it further disoriented the mass, buying us a bit more time.
Only for it to come right back in that moment. It came at an angle, its face literally digging into the ground as it swept up towards me, seeking to cut off any possible retreat.
I didn’t retreat though, I advanced. Bayonet at the ready flashed out, cutting into one of the beast’s legs. It cut through easily, barely even catching on the oozing flesh. I prepared for a swipe of its paw, but it pushed forward, right into my soldier’s formation bypassing me in the process. I tried to cut it off, or to chase, but its tail swept in, cracking into my side.
I felt my uniform pulse, dispersing the blow, all the while sending me flying. Meanwhile, the beast tore through my formation, letting the forest of spears score and gouge its flesh as it ran through them without a care.
The damage was… something. It wept, rather, oozed black blood. There was a slight limp from where I had struck, but… the damage was not equal. If anything, as the seconds passed, those wounds closed as the black blood congealed, save for where I had cut.
Meanwhile, the accumulated damage my soldiers had taken, and I had taken, was starting to show. Worse still, now realizing we could actually hurt it, the wolf started to act more cautious. Testing blows, followed by a slow, intentional circling. Moving in only when I sought to fire my rifle, and hemming us in, pushing us closer to the teeming mass.
At any moment, something would go wrong. Especially as our fight seemed to be attracting more attention as more of these wolves pulled in from all over, forcing us to take them out while keeping the larger wolf at bay.
Something had to change, and apparently the big wolf agreed. With a howl, the teeming mass behind us writhed. All at once, they moved with purpose, extricating themselves from the mass.
Our formation moved as the newly freed wolves began to surround us. They moved around us, never stopping. Occasionally a wolf or two would leap out of the group and strike at our formation. Only to be met with swords and spears. Yet, before it could take too much damage, a new wolf would step in and aid its kin’s retreat.
Worse, the big wolf was responding to my own position. If I threw myself at the front of the formation to try and cut through the circling wolves, the big wolf would circle around and hit our back. The moment I try to assist, it would retreat. If I stayed at the center of the formation making shots, it simply watched and waited. Avoiding any and all bullets directed its way.
Of the many types of bullets I had, few did any real, lasting damage. Explosive rounds hit hard, but the ice and frost coating their bodies would slough off, almost like they were molting. Leaving them slightly smaller, and once more with pristine bodies. Shot rounds would blast out chunks of flesh, but with their lesser range and speed, few would properly hit. Piercing rounds were by far the most effective, earning easy hits due to their speed and punching through them with ease. Only, the actual damage was minimal. Not unless I got lucky and hit a core. As for standard rounds, they had a decent chance of hitting, but lacked the oomph or penetrating power to make any lasting damage.
To make it worse, none of the wolves were uniform in size or strength. Some wolves were notably larger, others smaller. Eyeing them, I could only come up with one conclusion, the more they ate, the stronger they became.
Even with the regular wolves not being ranked, they had an absurd vitality, and a hefty resistance to magic. Enough that killing them wasn’t in the cards.
Luckily, killing them wasn’t the goal. Not exactly. I would have liked too, but it became clear, obvious even, that doing so would not be feasible. All I needed to do was hold out, but even that was getting difficult.
Despite everything, we could not keep this going indefinitely. Something would go wrong, a single mistake could spell our doom. Our movements were tight, coordinated, but a single mistake would end all of that, and see us swarmed and devoured whole.
And no matter what decision I made, I knew for a fact, I was damned if I do, or don’t. There was no good answer, no right answer. The best I could hope for was to whittle them down, weaken them before Liche and Joan arrive, if they ever did.
The battle turned into a game of chess all too quickly. Minor shifts in the formation invited attacks, that had the wolf quickly taken down and engulfed in a matter of moments, almost like how a Venus Fly Trap snaps shut to capture its meal.
We took a number down in quick succession using these tactics, managing our losses until they caught on, and they in turn used our trap to inflict greater damage upon us. Sending a stronger wolf in, a wolf a little tougher to take down to stall our formation and allow them to take a far bigger bite of our rear.
Tactics had to change. Small teams would break formation and rush the wolves, they’d move quickly to disable and kill, whilst I provided covering fire. It worked, until a team was a moment too slow and was subsumed.
Losses added up. yet, my soldiers never tired or slowed. Their spirits were as alive as ever. Burning with a need, a desire to give their all.
All throughout, I felt… inadequate. That no matter how I moved or acted, no matter how perfect my action, something was lost. If my weapon were stronger, if I had a better uniform, if my magic were different, if I had something to change the tide.
Such thoughts echoed in my skull, and with it, I found my frigid blood boiling.
Then the big wolf had to go and move. It was sudden quick, and also, genius. In the midst of a formation change, it lunged, ramming through its own kin and right into the formation. The blow hit hard, and the wolf didn’t pause or stop, they merely went on a rampage waving its limbs about to scatter as many as possible before bounding out.
Yes, they sported new, uglier wounds, but our formation was ruined, the wolves surrounding us, sensing blood all pounced as one.
It was more instinct, if it could even be called that. The boiling of my blood, my own frustration giving way as I gave a singular command backed by my magic.
The result, was surprising. I merely ordered everyone to form up, magic bled out of me, flowing through the channels in my soul to every soldier in my vicinity. In lockstep, they moved with new speed and force. Their bodies crackled with ice and purpose. In an instant, with superhuman speed they realigned and moved, reforming right before my eyes.
The wolves, couldn’t react in time. They smashed headfirst into a complete formation and were promptly slaughtered.
My body, my blood, the very tips of my fingers still tingled with latent power, my eyes wide. I felt it, relished it, let it flow through me. And once the wolves tried to reset, I gave it another test.
A smaller one, another smaller command, an order charged with magic. It surged through the links into my soldiers, and with blistering speed, they bowled into the surrounding wolves. In an instant, they cleaved through many of the wolves and just as quickly their enhanced speed and power faded, but right before they could be drowned in bodies, I called them back.
With that same speed, they came right back, bashing right through the encroaching hordes.
It was incredible, it was also, game changing. Only... the cost was eye watering. Not just in terms of magic, but also on my soldiers. The surge of magic, the sudden burst of strength was not without cost as fractures made themselves known across their bodies.
Still, it was a game changer.
Commands were given. Soldiers surged at my order. Breaking into the wolves’ ranks, breaking up clumps and slaughtering them in short order. Rapidly, their numbers began to dwindle and the wounds we managed to inflict on the big wolf grew ever more severe, but not without cost.
I was at my limit; my soldiers were too. Just keeping my uniform active was a struggle, giving commands felt like trying to wring out the last bit of moisture from a sponge. Sensing this, the wolf did not act rashly. Choosing instead to idle about, to wait until we were weakened enough before delivering the final blow.
It was cunning. That much was clear. Patient too, as it waited. Waited even as my soldiers began to fall. As they threw their lives away to protect me from errant blows and strikes.
It bothered me. Frustrated me to no end. Knowing full well that with every move, every moment, I was falling further behind. Hoping, praying with all my might, that my opponent would make a mistake and give me a chance to turn it all around.
Yet, he made no mistake. The injured grew, the dead grew.
Soon, only a handful of my soldiers were left. Even then, they were not entirely whole. Missing limbs, with cracked weapons and armor. Even then, they stood strong, defiant, ever filled with purpose.
It filled me with rage. Seeing my soldiers die like this. Worse still, to see them throw themselves before me to take a blow and die when I made a mistake. To see them push me out of the way when my attention slipped, or when a wolf snuck behind me when I hadn’t noticed.
To see in real time, my every mistake and misstep cost them their lives.
This… was the burden of leadership. To be in charge of them, not just as their commander, but as the one to decide who lives and dies, yet…
Now, now it wasn’t my choice. It was theirs.
Perhaps that annoyed me more? That through their sacrifice, they slowly took away the spotlight. That this no longer became about me, but them…
It was selfish, even just feeling the way I was made me sick with myself, and yet… This was who I was. I would have to improve, do better. Constantly. All so that nobody else could ever hope to upstage me.
After all, that was why they followed me, why they were so devoted to me…
And this conviction, I knew every soldier of mine could feel it and I also too felt, their approval. Even as they died, a flicker of recognition, pride at having served at my side.
Of all things, that… that was the most insulting.
But, there was one thing that irked me more. That the big wolf’s perfection in itself… was a mistake.
I felt it first. A slight rumbling of the ground. Heard it second, saw it last. From afar, soldiers on horseback, with gleaming armor and spears come barreling forward. At their front, a single man rode as the tip of the spear. A large glaive in hand.
The wolves had little time to react, we had even less. We bunched up, hoped and prayed they wouldn’t run us over.
They didn’t, but they cleaved through the hordes of wolves with ease. Their momentum allows their spears to punch into their body and a following burst of magic saw their bodies burst. Those behind, would follow-up with pinpoint accuracy, their spears easily piercing the smaller cores.
They stamped through the pack, with the soldier, the general at the front bashing aside the larger wolves, keeping them from stalling the meat grinder that was the horseman. As fast as they came, banners waving in the sky, they went. The hooves of the horses mashed the corpses of the beasts, leaving a trail of black in their wake.
They hadn’t killed all the wolves, let alone done any serious damage to the big wolf, but their arrival and subsequent retreat caught them off-guard, enough, that they weren’t prepared for the second hit.
Morrigan arrived on the scene like an axe murderer. Her eyes bloody, her face marred and cut, her uniform in tatters, yet a wild manic grin on her face as her eyes gleamed.
With a hefty series of chops, she first maimed the larger, surviving wolves. Bringing them down to her level before slicing again, and again to carve it open, with a final slice cleaving through the core, killing it.
She moved with monstrous precision. Less like a surgeon, and more a butcher looking for the best cuts of meat. Her appearance, and her sheer presence startled the surviving pack members, and following just behind her, were the soldiers I had tasked with protecting Joan, and further beyond Joan herself.
They were not in great shape. Weapons cracked bodies at the brink, cut and gouged. Yet still, they burned with purpose, throwing themselves into the melee without a care. As for Joan, she was bloody and bruised, but her eyes were determined. Flickers of golden light made themselves known across the battlefield as pinpoint shields absorbed blows or cuts, minimizing damage taken to the absolute limit.
My own soldiers followed, with me at the helm. In a blur, we cut and carved, all tactics, all thought gone from our minds as we cleaved through the stunned wolves.
By the time they collected themselves, it was already too late. We’d hemmed in the last of them, leaving only the big wolf left.
Instead of charging in, we paused, assessed the situation. It was clear, obvious even that none of us were in good shape. Each of us were tattered and worn, as for the big wolf, they weren’t exactly hale and hearty themselves, but…
It wasn’t looking good.
“The soldiers…” I rasped. My voice just loud enough for Morrigan to hear.
“Busy.” She said back, her voice raw, hoarse. “The cavalry ran through to plug the hole, so we shouldn’t see any more reinforcements.”
I nodded, though, I didn’t like our odds. And the big wolf seemed keen to sit back and watch while we talked.
“How are you doing?” I asked, Morrigan laughed.
“Never been better. Lot of dead, but… my eyes ain’t doing so good.”
Like she said, her eyes looked bad. Raw, red, bleeding. I had no idea why that was, but… “Will that impede you?”
“A little, yeah, need’em to see weak points. As it stands, I can’t see shit.”
“So, I assume we have to weaken it?” I say.
“Yeah, just about. If I see something, I’ll be able to end this.”
“We’ll have to do that then.” I said, checking over my rifle, my rounds. Morrigan laughed.
“You make it sound so easy.” She said, almost teasingly.
“If it needs to be done, I’ll get it done.” I said, and this time she didn’t laugh, just eyed me with a wide smile.
“I knew there was a reason I had my eyes on you.”
I didn’t reply and looked instead to Joan. She was struggling to stand, but… she was alive.
“I’m fine…” She said, I didn’t believe her. “I can make a few shields, but… with how big that thing is, I can maybe block one direct blow, maybe two before I’m done for.”
She was oddly calm despite the situation, but… I trusted her estimation.
“I understand.” I said back, it wasn’t much, but I could tell that alone eased her quite a bit.
With no other recourse, I stepped forward and prepared to square off with the big wolf. Knowing full well, that this final battle was not going to be an easy one. And even that, was a severe underestimation of what was to come.