Page 107 of Lord of the Lone Wolf
As Nasume gathered his corrupted power, preparing to unleash it against Maseo, a wall of ice erupted from the floor between them. The barrier was thick, glowing with an inner silver light.
Maseo glanced back to see Kitsuki, still bound to the bed but with one hand extended toward them. The dragon king’s face strained with effort as he maintained the protective barrier.
“How touching,” Nasume sneered. “He fights so hard to protect you. I wonder why?”
The wolf king’s eyes blazed with fury as he raised his hands, summoning a blade wreathed in writhing shadows that coiled around its length like living serpents. The Divine weapon was one of Nasume’s most prized possessions, its celestial steel forged in the realm ruled by Powers. But necromancy had carved corruption through its sacred structure.
“Behold,” Nasume said with perverse reverence as he lifted the sword. “True justice. This is Divine wrath channeled through death itself.”
With a roar of rage, he brought the sword down on the barrier. Where the blade touched, the ice turned black and melted into shadowy puddles. “He cannot save you.”
Maseo readied himself, knowing the blockade wouldn’t hold much longer. He glanced at Kitsuki, whose face contorted with effort as he fought to maintain the ice wall while battling his own restraints.
With a final, devastating blow, Nasume shattered the barrier. Fragments exploded outward, each piece carrying traces of corrupted divine energy that burned where they touched. Maseo shielded his face with his arm.
Before he could recover, Nasume was upon him again, but Kitsuki’s ring flared to life once more, repelling the physical attack.
Nasume howled in frustration. “Enough of these games!” He summoned a sphere of verdant light that spread outward in a complex ward, encompassing both Maseo and himself. The light rose around them, forming a dome that sealed them inside, cutting them off from the rest of the chamber. “I will have no more interference from your dragon protector.”
Kitsuki roared in rage and desperation. Maseo could see him through the translucent green dome, still fighting against his bonds, his magic flaring as he tried to break through it, but his power couldn’t penetrate the darkness.
Nasume turned toward Kitsuki, a cruel smile spreading on his face. “Watch closely, my love. Once this waste of breath is gone, there will be nothing stopping you from being with me.”
With a gesture, he intensified the necromantic bonds holding Kitsuki, causing the dragon king to arch in pain as the corrupted magic dug deeper into his flesh. Kitsuki’s agonized growl made Maseo’s blood boil.
“Stop it!” Maseo shouted, lunging forward with his sword aimed at his father’s heart.
But the sword grazed his side instead of finding its mark. Nasume made a smug noise as the wound dripped with black blood. “Perhaps there is more of me in you than I thought.”
“I am nothing like you,” Maseo denied.
“No?” Nasume raised an eyebrow, his shadow blade held at the ready. “We both want the same thing, do we not? The Ice King’s attention. His favor. His bed.”
Heat rushed to Maseo’s face, but he maintained a neutral expression. “Why can’t you understand he’ll never want you?”
“Do you think he wants a halfling bastard?” Nasume’s words dripped with scorn. “You have nothing to offer a king other than a handsome face.”
Nasume circled Maseo like a predator. “Power is the only reality. And I have always had more power than you.” He used his magic to strip his son of his armor before stabbing forward to slice his blade across Maseo’s ribs.
The world exploded into layers of agony beyond anything Maseo had ever experienced. Death carved itself into his flesh with surgical precision, each tainted rune burning permanentcondemnation into his ribs. But worse was the death magic burrowing into his flesh like parasitic worms. He gritted his teeth against the dual assault, refusing to give his father the satisfaction of seeing him crumble.
Nasume’s sadistic smile widened as he watched the Divine condemnation seep through his son’s flesh. “Do you feel it? The judgment of the Powers channeled through death? How many more cuts do you think you can endure before Divine justice consumes you?”
Maseo said nothing, focusing on his breathing and maintaining his stance despite the searing pain where Divine authority and necromancy worked together to unmake him from within. He refused to falter.
“You’ve always been weak,” Nasume continued. “Even as a child, you cried too easily and broke too quickly. I tried to burn that weakness out of you, but your human blood made you soft.”
“No, it strengthened me in ways you can’t understand,” Maseo countered, mirroring his father’s movements while maintaining his distance. “It taught me empathy, compassion, and resilience.”
“Such pretty words for weakness,” Nasume scoffed. “What good is empathy when you are bleeding out? What use is compassion when your enemy shows none?”
He attacked again, unleashing a flurry of strikes that forced Maseo onto the defensive. A second cut opened across his back between his shoulder blades, but the violation penetrated deeper than flesh. The blade split muscle and sinew as shadows infested the wound, carrying whispers of damnation that echoed through his bones. Where the first strike had carved judgment, it nowinscribed a promise of slow destruction that would hollow him from within.
Nasume’s eyes gleamed with sadistic pleasure as he raised his free hand, fingers moving in precise gestures. The necromancy within Maseo’s wounds responded to his father’s command, flaring to life with renewed malice.
Death magic twisted through his flesh like barbed wire, obeying Nasume’s will as it burrowed deeper into muscle and bone. Maseo’s back arched as the corruption writhed beneath his skin, following the pathways his father had carved with deliberate cruelty.
Nasume clenched his fist, and the death magic responded by searing through Maseo’s nerves. “You feel that, don’t you? The necromancy inside you belongs to me and burns with the righteous fury of the Divine.” He twisted his fingers, shredding pieces of Maseo’s soul with surgical precision. “I can make it feast.”
