Kill of the week highlight

Lycaon's claws were about to rend Devana's head apart when a menacing growl emanated from above, causing him to look up. A hulking wolf with blood red eyes descended upon him, its teeth latching onto his arm. Lycaon became unbalanced. Pulled by the inertia of the wolf's leap, he tripped and tumbled away from Devana, at which time the wolf released him and leapt to her side.

Lycaon regained his footing. He stared at the intruder. When he recognized it, his eyes bulged in disbelief, then anger. This was no ordinary wolf. It's pitch black fur danced in perpetual motion, as if alive. This was a shadow wolf, or rather, a being who had transformed into a shadow wolf.

"Dracula...have you betrayed Mother Echidna?" Lycaon interrogated with a beastial tone, not speaking so much as snarling the question.

The shadow wolf's shape became chaotic, morphing into a black cloud and then a human silhouette. It continued to gain detail until its identity was revealed—Dracula. He guarded in front of Devana, standing between her and the bloodthirsty werewolves. When given the urgent order by Alex, he had transformed into a shadow wolf, his most agile form, and rushed to the scene.

Dracula gazed at Lycaon, narrowing his eyes. "Mother?" He sneered. "What kind of mother tricks her sons and turns them into slaves?"

Lycaon's face became somber. "She gave us the gift of eternal life..."

Dracula responded, "My eternal life has felt like an eternal curse. You are only a running dog to her. Can you not see that?"

Lycaon's hoarse breathing began to carry a light growl. "What I can see...is that before she blessed me, I really was a dog. When Zeus annihilated my family and cursed me to become an animal...I lost everything. Then she appeared. Even for a wretch like me, she was willing to provide a chance to live as a man again. I will be eternally grateful for that...unlike you, traitor, betrayer of grace." Lycaon extended his claws, preparing to order his men to launch a full scale assault.

*Thump*

A loud noise came out of nowhere to Lycaon's right. He gazed over only to find one of his nearby werewolves impaled by an ice spear, dead. Lycaon's eyes traced the spear's likely trajectory. On the next roof, he saw the culprit Hecate, gasping and exhausted, yet brandishing a vindictive grin as she generated another ice spear.

'How can she be here?' Lycaon became uneasy. He searched in the direction where Hecate had been fighting Adrian, only to discover that which he dreaded—Adrian's corpse. He already knew Cristian had died earlier. Since the two of them were dead, then Luca... Lycaon's eyes explored the area, but he already knew the answer. 'He escaped.'

*Thump*

Another ice spear lodged through one of his men and Lycaon no longer hesitated. He was only hired help. There was nothing remaining for him here. He howled into the sky, signaling his warriors. Without hesitation, the werewolves dropped everything and escaped into the forest as if racing for first place. They couldn't wait to flee. This mission was supposed to be easy, and yet so many of them died in brutal fashion.

Lycaon took one last deep glimpse at Dracula before turning around and jumping off the house, dashing into the woods and out of sight.

Once the werewolves were gone, Hecate and Devana collapsed onto the ground on the spot, unable to stand. Several seconds later, Dracula also withdrew from battle, his figure disassembling into light. The few remaining uninjured druids and witches ran around the destroyed village, applying first aid to any comrades who were still breathing.

Somehow they had survived, but both Hecate and Devana knew, it was all thanks to one person. The only question on their minds was, 'Where is he now?'

***

*Ch ch ch ah ah ah ah ah*

'What the hell was that?!?' Luca was running for his life. His two partners had died in a terrible manner, not even knowing what killed them. The thought of sharing the same fate sent chills down his spine. Now there was some inhuman noise reverberating throughout the forest. It was a nightmare. He only wished he could grow wings so he could get away from this slaughterhouse as fast as possible.

Too slow! He'd already used all the auto-cast movement spells within his grimoire. That forced him to stop and chant the occasional haste spell to speed himself up. The problem was that even with haste, he wasn't that fast. Luca was destined to be a slow runner. That was the tragic reality for most people focused on magic, suffering under the proverb "Mages have short legs." He winced as his haste spell expired again, compelling him to stop and recast it.

*Ch ch ch ah ah ah ah ah*

'There it is again! Is that Jason from Friday the 13th? What the hell is going on?!?' Luca didn't even finish casting. He was too frightened to stay here a moment longer. All he could bring himself to do was sprint through the forest, barely remembering to wipe his teary eyes from time to time so he wouldn't trip on some unseen obstacle.

*Pant* *Pant*

'There it is!' At long last, Luca saw the edge of the forest in the distance. His escape from this hellish nightmare was at hand. His eyes shone and his pace sped up as he could almost taste his freedom!

*Sheek*

It tasted like…blood?

Luca's face was frozen in a hopeful smile as he halted mid-stride. A trickle of blood ran down from his forehead into his mouth. There, through the middle of his head, was a gaping sword-shaped wound.

In his invisible state, Alex held Balisarda with both hands, nodding as he admired his dazzling achievement. He had stalked Luca for some time to come up with this artistic kill, one that surely qualified for the kill of the week highlight.

He even added Jason sounds for ambience. In the end, all of his care and dedication were worth it, creating a triumphant success. Luca had run directly into Alex's perfectly positioned sword, skewering himself on it like a laser-guided idiot.

Devoid of strength, Luca's muscles went limp and Alex withdrew his sword, dropping like a puppet with its strings cut. As he glimpsed down at Luca, Alex's heart felt warm. 'My parents would be proud, wherever they are.'

"Seal." He couldn't forget to pick up his loot. Once his inventory was full, he looked out over the empty forest.

Alex removed his helmet out of respect, before bowing in gratitude to his audience. After rising, he put his hands up as if silencing roaring applause. "Thank you! Thank you...but I can't take all the credit. I was blessed to work with the most talented partner. He did most of the hard work, really!" Alex pointed to Luca's corpse. Then he went over to Luca's body, bent down, and lifted Luca's arm like he had just won a championship fight.

The imaginary audience gave a standing ovation, showering the stage with roses and applause.

Alex wasn't the type to hog all the spotlight. He believed in meritocracy and giving credit where it was due. This was a team effort. No, Luca was the real hero.