Chapter 66: Forest Battle!

Trees shattered and fell, pulverized by immense, unseen forces.

The high-pitched shouts of mercenaries echoed incessantly as they pursued a swift, fleeing figure through the woods.

Black Sword rode the turbulent winds, trailing several paces behind the main group of mercenaries, his advance unhurried and deliberate. His palm faced upwards, cradling a sphere of light composed of intricate, glowing sigils. This sphere connected to three larger orbs, bathing the forest in an eerie, pervasive glow that rendered torches unnecessary and illuminated their quarry clearly.

"Never expected to find such a rare aberrant here," Black Sword mused aloud, his tone leisurely. He absently smoothed the feathers of the creature perched on his shoulder. "Looks like it mutated after consuming werewolf flesh. Capturing it will yield another fine specimen, won't it, my dear?"

The jet-black bird of prey's crimson eyes flickered. Its beak, split near the tip, twisted unnaturally upwards at the corners, forming a grotesque semblance of a smile.

Ahead, Snoke led the charge, directing his mercenaries in a relentless hunt. Every tool designed for trapping beasts was deployed – nets, bolas, weighted chains. Yet, Night Howl always managed to evade capture at the last, hair-raising moment, prolonging a hunt Snoke felt should have ended long ago.

Night Howl was now covered in numerous wounds, its normally prodigious healing ability drastically slowed. These injuries were inflicted during the initial, brutal clash. Whatever magic Black Sword wielded had crippled its regenerative power. Knowing it was outmatched, Night Howl had chosen flight, desperately circling and dodging, buying time, hoping for rescue.

Snoke, whipping a heavy chain hook with lethal skill, matched Night Howl's speed stride for stride through the dense undergrowth, his eyes locked onto the fleeing creature. As his men successfully herded Night Howl into changing direction, Snoke saw his chance. He lunged forward with explosive power, the chain hook whistling through the air.

Schink!

The sound of metal tearing through flesh sent a jolt of savage excitement through Snoke. The chain snapped taut instantly. Planting his feet against a tree trunk and leveraging a large stone on the ground, he hauled back with all his might.

Night Howl let out a piercing shriek of agony as its legs were yanked out from under it, crashing to the forest floor.

The mercenaries surged forward, the strongest among them leading the charge towards the fallen prey.

Sensing imminent, mortal danger, Night Howl reacted instinctively. Its grotesquely oversized jaws, disproportionate to its body, snapped open impossibly wide and slammed shut with terrifying force towards the lead attacker.

The mercenary, battle-hardened, anticipated the move. He twisted aside at the last possible instant, the monstrous jaws snapping shut on empty air mere inches from his body. The sharp, bone-jarring crack of teeth meeting teeth echoed through the trees, leaving the man pale and shaking with delayed terror.

Those behind him froze, witnessing firsthand the horrifying destructive power of that maw. No armor, no matter how tough, could withstand such a bite – it would cleave a man in two! Instinctively, they abandoned close combat, falling back to unleash a barrage of projectiles – arrows, bolts, and thrown axes.

Black Sword watched the mercenaries' futile efforts with growing impatience. A dark, shimmering blade of condensed wind began to coalesce in his free hand. He prepared to hurl it, aiming to sever Night Howl's dangerous jaws once and for all.

Suddenly, a surge of primal danger slammed into his senses.

Before he could fully react, the bird on his shoulder acted faster. Its wings exploded outwards like a shield, enveloping Black Sword's entire body in a protective canopy of black feathers.

Simultaneously, an ear-splitting metallic CLANG! reverberated through the forest, sharp enough to pierce eardrums.

Black Sword felt his wind-riding magic instantly unravel. The force of the impact sent him, still cocooned within the protective wings, hurtling backwards.

The wings slowly retracted. The air was filled, not with the sounds of pursuit, but with the agonized screams of mercenaries.

Black Sword staggered upright, leaning heavily on his cane. His previously immaculate clothes were crumpled and dirt-streaked. His fine hairstyle was a disheveled mess. Pure, unadulterated fury boiled within him. He glared towards the center of the chaos.

A young man stood beside the wounded aberrant. His forearms were transformed into powerful, black-furred claws ending in wickedly sharp talons. Around them, the bodies of the common mercenaries littered the ground. Only Snoke and three others who possessed some measure of true strength remained standing – though their condition was far from reassuring.

The black bird hopped back onto Black Sword's shoulder, its wings still partially unfurled. Visible claw marks scored the feathers, faint tendrils of smoke curling from the wounds.

"So you're the thief who stole our cargo?" Snoke demanded, his voice strained, sweat beading on his scarred forehead. His near-death experience in the brief clash with the newcomer had instilled deep, cold dread.

"Cargo?" The young man, Glen, sounded genuinely puzzled for a moment before comprehension dawned. "Ah, the forest elf. Yes, she's with me. But I won't be handing her over. What are you going to do about it?"

Veins bulged in Snoke's neck, his eyes bloodshot. "Who the hell do you think you are?!" he roared, spittle flying. "Think just because you've got some strength you can mess with anyone?! The power backing us is beyond your pathetic imagination, boy! Hand over the cargo now and come with us for punishment! Maybe then your fate won't be too terrible!"

"Wow. Wow. I'm so scared," Glen replied, his voice flat, devoid of any actual fear. "Like I've never dealt with nobles before? Your precious 'backing' is just the Pank family, right? A Count? That's the big threat?" A derisive snort escaped him. "You think that's something I can't handle? Are you trying to make me die laughing?"

Glen wasn't lying. While a Count might wield significant power in these remote borderlands, his past life had involved dealings with numerous Counts – he'd even encountered Marquises. His understanding of noble hierarchies was likely deeper than any mercenary's.

The sheer, dismissive contempt in Glen's words struck Snoke like a physical blow. He visibly trembled, teeth grinding audibly, momentarily robbed of speech by the sheer audacity.

"Such arrogance," Black Sword hissed, stepping smoothly to Snoke's side. His clothes and hair were mysteriously pristine once more. "Clearly a provincial fool drunk on a modicum of power, believing himself invincible. Allow me to educate you."

Glen studied the impeccably dressed old man, sensing the familiar, cloying taint emanating from him. His eyebrow arched. "An evil dark mage?"

"Magic is magic," Black Sword retorted icily, his voice dripping with disdain. "There is no inherent 'good' or 'evil'... though explaining such nuances to a magicless peasant like you is beneath me. Just die!"

He clapped a hand dramatically over his face, then flung it outwards. A swirling orb of compressed, razor-sharp black wind blades screamed towards Glen, carrying an aura of devastating penetration.

The attack was blindingly fast. Glen reacted instantly, grabbing Night Howl and hurling it clear to safety, using the momentum to spin himself out of the projectile's path. He could feel the magic – its piercing power could likely shred even a werewolf's naturally resistant hide.

It could pierce my defenses, Glen assessed coolly, but this mage... he's only Tier 3. Don't even need the full transformation for this.

The miss seemed anticipated. Black Sword hadn't paused; his second spell was already complete. Whirling vortices of darkness condensed into spinning rings of blades, curved like deadly crescents, slicing through the air towards Glen from multiple angles.

Glen moved with preternatural grace, a ghost weaving through the lethal storm. He flowed around the slicing rings, closing the distance to Black Sword with deceptive ease.

"Insufferable rodent!" Black Sword snarled, abandoning all pretense of elegance. With a wide, forceful sweep of his arm, he conjured a vast, billowing net woven from strands of corrosive energy, its surface sizzling and popping as it descended like a malevolent shroud over Glen.

"If I can't dodge it," Glen stated calmly, "then I won't."

Anything but those piercing wind blades was manageable. His right claw lashed out in a blur of motion. The terrifying corrosive net met the hardened keratin and sheer force – and shattered into dissipating motes of foul energy.

Seeing his attacks effortlessly negated, a flicker of genuine panic crossed Black Sword's face. Desperation fueled his next move – his strongest magic. He began a guttural, rapid chant, dark energy coalescing violently behind him.

Glen, mid-lunge, suddenly felt an inescapable pressure lock onto him. Something immense and unavoidable was coming.

From the swirling darkness behind Black Sword, a colossal arm, black as obsidian and dripping with thick, tarlike ichor, thrust upwards. Its massive fist gripped the hilt of a gigantic, broken knight's sword, also weeping black ooze. With a roar that seemed to shake the forest itself, the spectral arm brought the colossal, corrupted blade sweeping down in an executioner's arc aimed directly at Glen!