"Fight...to the death." It seemed to be the command Frenzy had been awaiting his entire existence. His face ignited with wild excitement, his lips contorting into a crazed grin as he surged forward, seeking the nearest victim. Dejebi swatted aside a stubborn werewolf, who unfortunately landed within Frenzy's reach. The werewolf struggled to stand, his eyes widening in terror as a razor-thin line materialized across his body, bisecting him into two equal halves. Frenzy's crazed gaze fixated on the gory spectacle of the werewolf's disemboweled innards—satisfaction washing over him. It had been too long; his thirst had grown unbearable.
"Fuck the blade!" he roared, discarding the sword. It failed to ignite the visceral sensation he craved. He then descended upon another wolf foolish enough to challenge the crazed Frenzy.
"Haha! I can almost taste it!" he bellowed, surging forward and plunging his hand into the werewolf's still-beating heart.
The slowing throb of the heart vibrated up his bloodied arm, a soothing, intoxicating pulse.
The gore—oh, how he cherished it.
"Catch!"
He ripped the heart free and tossed it at the nearest werewolf. The wolf's composure shattered, his face contorting in a grimace of revulsion and horror.
The fear! He hungered for it!
The next moment, Frenzy's foot slammed into his flank. His spine audibly snapped, and the wolf shrieked in agony.
The pain… He reveled in it, too. The sound, the chaos of battle—the very frenzy of war—was his essence.
With metaphorical tears of twisted joy welling in his eyes, Frenzy ran amok, a whirlwind of carnage.
*
Scarlet Dust stood, observing the unfolding carnage. Strangely, the World King had not yet commanded her to engage. Either he had forgotten, or he simply deemed her unnecessary for victory. Whichever it was, she was content to wait on the sidelines until...
Something solid struck Scarlet Dust on the head, and she glanced backward, her expression scathing. The werewolf, in turn, stared back with clear bewilderment. The metal bar he wielded was bent at an unnatural angle, and his claws were broken. It seemed she had only registered the impact of the bar, not the claws themselves. Whatever thought had possessed him to attack, she would ensure it was his last.
A cloud of scarlet dust erupted from her arm, tearing apart the werewolf's upper body in a shower of gore. A mangled mass of viscera and a pair of severed legs thudded to the ground.
The remaining werewolves seemed to shift their focus away from the World King's crazed general and the towering giant.
They mistakenly believed her to be an easy target. They were about to learn their fatal error; she was, perhaps, the deadliest of them all. A serpentine gleam flickered in her eyes as Scarlet surged forward.
"You win this time, World King," she grumbled under her breath.
Though she lacked the finesse to create effective portals, she could still manipulate spatial energies to a limited degree. Unfortunately, her attacks were most effective when her targets were clustered together. It seemed she would need to engage them personally.
With a predatory grace, Scarlet dashed towards the nearest werewolf, her form crackling with godly energy.
The expressions of the enhanced werewolves, observing from a distance, subtly shifted. A flicker of apprehension crossed their features.
*
The Mudarians were being woven from Se'mudara's essence as quickly as they fell, effectively quelling the tide of the enemy onslaught. Ys, meanwhile, had taken it upon himself to locate the more potent werewolves that lurked unseen. They had revealed themselves initially, only to vanish without a trace. Whatever their purpose, Ys regarded it with deep suspicion.
The Oracle diligently defended Se'mudara in her weakened state. And Debyr, though lacking in direct combat prowess, remained a formidable force. Her precognitive abilities allowed her to anticipate incoming at tacks with uncanny accuracy, making her nearly impossible to strike—at least for a single wolf. When confronted by two or three opponents, however, even her advanced perception could not compensate for the sheer volume of assaults. The werewolves seemed to have recognized this limitation, as they increasingly targeted her with coordinated flanking maneuvers. Despite her best efforts, they often overwhelmed her defenses before the Mudarians could intervene.
But then, she never gave up, ensuring they didn't get to the vulnerable angel behind her.
An unlucky werewolf, failing to escape in time, fell victim to the Oracle's fist. She drove her fist into the wolf's jowls, making it quiver violently. Several fangs were dislodged as he crashed unconscious to the floor. A nearby Mudarian retrieved the facsimile of the sword Se'mudara had been wielding, using it to swiftly behead the creature.
"Hey, Princess, you owe me one after this," Debyr said, glancing at the pale angel, Se'mudara, behind her. The princess was barely maintaining consciousness, but the effect of her Mudarians was apparent; the few remaining werewolves were already planning their retreat.
"Whatever those upgraded werewolves are up to, I hope smarty-pants can handle it," Debyr added, approaching Se'mudara.
She immediately grasped Se'mudara's hand, helping her up from her half-kneeling position. Motes of white light trickled from Se'mudara's mouth onto Debyr's arm.
Debyr's expression shifted abruptly as she noticed a dark arrow protruding from the angel's back.
"Behind… you," Se'mudara whispered weakly, her voice hoarse and dry.
But the Oracle had sensed the danger even before Se'mudara saw it: ten enhanced werewolves, barreling toward them in a furious storm of claws and fangs.