Page 86 of Lord of the Lone Wolf
“Need a hand?” Bitris grinned down at him, his sword already moving to parry the lichen’s next attack.
Maseo scrambled to his feet, relief washing over him. “Your timing is impeccable.”
“I can’t have the prettiest warrior in our army getting hurt on my watch,” Bitris replied, shoving the lichen back with a powerful thrust.
It recovered, readying for another assault. Even with a hand missing, it moved with lethal purpose, the bones of its severed arm already beginning to tremble on the ground, trying to return to the body. Maseo and Bitris worked in tandem, circling the skeleton from opposite sides.
It attacked Bitris first, but the dragon shifter parried with ease.
With its focus on Bitris, Maseo circled behind it. He aimed for the space between the lichen’s ribs. It pierced the soul, and the flame turned white, flickering like a candle in a strong wind.
A sound emerged from the lichen, not from its mouth but from the soul itself. It was a high, keening wail that seemed to vibrate the very air. The fire in its eye sockets sputtered out, plunging the empty skull into darkness. For a moment, it stood frozen, then collapsed in a heap before turning to dust that scattered in the wind. The ancient armor that had adorned the skeleton followed suit, rusted metal flaking away until nothing remained but a faint mist that dissipated into the air.
“That’s one way to clean up after yourself,” Bitris remarked, nudging the dust with the toe of his boot. “No bodies to bury.”
Maseo’s gaze swept across the battlefield, taking in the surrounding chaos. More lichen advanced through the ranks of wolf shifters, their empty eye sockets burning with verdant fire. The Valzerna forces were holding their own, but the sheer number of enemies was concerning.
A new skeleton wielding a battle-axe that looked forged in an age long past came for Maseo. It wore fragments of ancient armor,with a helmet that had one horn attached, perched atop its skull. Its axe whistled through the air with surprising speed. Maseo sidestepped but felt the rush of air against his cheek.
He countered with a hard strike to the creature’s ribs, his sword passing through the gaps between the bones. The unfazed lichen pivoted with unnatural grace to swing its axe in a horizontal arc. Maseo ducked beneath the blow, using the momentum to drive his sword toward the glowing soul at the center of the skeleton’s chest.
At the last moment, the lichen twisted away and retaliated with a brutal downward strike. Maseo parried, almost causing him to lose his grip on his weapon.
He retreated a step, reassessing his approach. The skeleton followed, its movements becoming more fluid and coordinated with each exchange. It was as if the necromantic magic controlling it was learning and adapting to his fighting style.
Maseo feinted to the right, then dropped to his knee, sweeping his sword in a low arc that connected with the lichen’s legs. Bones shattered, sending the skeleton crashing to the ground. Before the necromantic magic could reassemble the broken pieces, Maseo lunged forward, driving his blade through the glowing soul.
The flame flared, then dimmed, as the soul broke free from its bondage. The skeleton collapsed into a pile of lifeless dust, the ancient armor disintegrating along with it.
Maseo rose to his feet, panting for breath. There was no time for weakness during battle.
A familiar voice cut through the chaos. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the half-breed traitor.”
Maseo turned, his grip tightening on his sword as he faced the source of the voice. Junbe stood before him, a cruel smile twisting his features. The bear shifter was broader than Maseo remembered, his muscles bulging beneath his armor. “Junbe.”
“I’ve been looking forward to this,” he said with malicious glee. “Your father promised I could have you, and I intend to claim what is owed to me.”
The memory of that night flashed through Maseo’s mind, vivid and sickening. After Nasume had beaten and poisoned him, Junbe had tried to force himself on Maseo, but the ring gifted to him by Kitsuki had activated to prevent the assault.
“My father no longer dictates my fate,” Maseo said, raising his sword. “And neither do you.”
Junbe laughed, the sound harsh and grating. “We’ll see about that. Once I’ve beaten you into submission, I’ll take what was promised to me. And this time, there won’t be any magic to save you.”
Maseo braced for impact, but instead of feeling steel against steel, he watched as Junbe’s blade struck an invisible wall inches from his body. Silver light rippled outward from the point of impact as the ring’s barrier activated. Junbe’s weapon rebounded with such force that he staggered backward.
“Fight me, you coward!” Junbe roared, his face reddening with each thwarted blow.
Maseo remained still, a cold satisfaction spreading through him as he watched his would-be rapist exhaust himself against Kitsuki’s protection. “You’ll never touch me again.”
Junbe’s face twisted with hatred. “I’ll break through this barrier, even if I have to strike a thousand times!”
He renewed his assault with savage intensity, his sword becoming a frenzied blur as he attacked from every angle. The protective shield held firm, each impact sending ripples of silver light across its surface without the slightest sign of weakening. Junbe’s movements grew desperate, his technique abandoning all pretense of skill in favor of violent power.
“I won’t stop until you’re screaming as I fuck you, right here on the battlefield, in front of everyone,” he snarled between strikes, spittle flying from his lips.
Maseo watched the display with detached calm, the ring warm against his finger. “You’ll die before that happens.”
Junbe’s attacks continued unabated, his breath coming in ragged gasps as sweat poured down his face. The barrier remained unbreeched, a perfect shield between Maseo and his tormentor’s fury. The bear shifter paused, his chest heaving with exertion.
