Alton woke with a groan, his head pounding from the night's revelry. He pushed himself up from the small cot in the corner of the common room, squinting against the dim light emitting from a manalight over the door.

Rubbing his temples, Alton made his way to the water basin, splashing the cool liquid on his face. The familiar sensation of the liquid soothing his skin helped clear the fog from his mind. He nodded to the few soldiers already awake and moving about, preparing for the day's tasks.

Alton stepped out into a small courtyard, finding a quiet spot to sit and begin his morning meditation. Settling onto the ground, he closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, allowing the rhythm to calm his racing thoughts.

Reaching inward, Alton activated his mansight, gazing upon the swirling energies of his core. The surface of the mental lake churned with powerful waves, a testament to the growth of his abilities. He could feel the electricity crackling through his veins, the raw power of the seventh tier pulsing within him, five nodes now glowed brightly in a ring around his core. Only two more until he progressed to the eighth tier.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he marveled at his progress. The battles they had endured had forged him and his company into formidable warriors, their mana abilities evolving with each trial. Alton lusted to test his strength.

Alton send a surge through Fang and felt the aspect of the Wolf answer. The strange but familiar sensation of the Wolf probing his core sent a shiver down his spine. Alton was left with a vague impression of satisfaction from his unseen ally.

He rose from his seated position, rolling his shoulders and stretching his limbs. Alton performed his kata in silence, marveling at the subtle but significant gains in strength and dexterity each awakened node brought. Every muscle fiber felt full to bursting of power.

After his kata, Alton used the meager equipment available to perform his daily exercises. These barracks were used by far weaker soldiers than he but with some creative modifications it would do. His soldiers began to join him as time marched on, going through their own katas until Amelia woke to lead the morning training.

Alton stepped out of the barracks, the crisp morning air filling his lungs. He paused, gazing up at the towering buildings that surrounded the small courtyard. The structures were a marvel of engineering, their facades adorned with intricate carvings and colorful tapestries that gave the city a vibrant, lively feel.

He set off at a brisk pace, his boots pounding against the smooth stone pathways. As he ran, he marveled at the creative use of materials - stone, wood, and cloth - that gave Aethelwurn a distinct character. The manalights cast a constant blue glow that resonated with the power thrumming in Alton's veins.

The captain wove through the bustling streets, dodging merchants and citizens going about their daily routines. Alton's senses were heightened, his eyes drinking in every detail of the city. The scent of freshly baked bread mingled with the earthy aroma of the stone, and the sounds of laughter and chatter filled the air.

He pushed himself harder, his muscles burning with exertion, but Alton welcomed the pain. As Alton circled back towards the barracks, he slowed his pace, allowing his breathing to return to normal. The captain gazed up at the towering spires, a newfound determination burning in his chest. Ulgarath and his forces would not prevail, not while Alton and his company still drew breath.

With a deep breath, Alton turned and headed back towards the barracks, his mind already racing with plans and strategies to ensure the safety of this remarkable city.

* * *

Alton strode into the grand council chamber, his eyes scanning the familiar faces seated around the ornate table. This time, their reception was far warmer than the last - a testament to the respect Wolf Company had earned in the city.

Beside him, Seka stood tall, her posture more confident than it had been during their previous meeting. Alton had brought her along to serve as his official translator, recognizing the young woman's potential to be a valuable asset. Seka's keen intellect and linguistic abilities could prove invaluable in navigating the complexities of Aethelwurn's politics.

Now that she was more comfortable around them, she used her abilities liberally. When actively using her mana, she was able to create a sphere of influence in which everyone would be able to understand spoken languages as if it were their own, a truly remarkable ability. The council members sounded just like he and his company when they spoke now.

As the council members greeted them, Alton noticed a subtle shift in Seka's demeanor. She no longer averted her gaze or fidgeted nervously; instead, she met the council's eyes with a steady, assured expression. Alton felt a surge of pride at the transformation he had witnessed in her over the past weeks.

The meeting commenced, and Alton listened intently as the council members discussed the state of the war and the challenges they faced. Seka's skills making the translations perfectly.

Alton's brow furrowed as the council member's words sank in. Xulgoth, one of Ulgarath's most powerful servants, was leading the assault on Aethelwurn. The implications were grave - this was no mere horde of mindless fiends they faced.

As Seka relayed the council's report, Alton felt a chill run down his spine. Xulgoth's ability to unite and control the fiends made him a formidable adversary. The sapient's influence amplified the natural ferocity of his army, driving them forward with a single, unwavering purpose - to crush all resistance.

Alton's gaze swept over the concerned faces around the table. The council members shifted uneasily, their expressions betraying their growing trepidation. Even the most seasoned warriors among them had never encountered a threat of this magnitude.

As the report concluded, a heavy silence fell over the chamber. Alton could feel the weight of the council's gaze upon him, their unspoken pleas for guidance and leadership. He straightened his shoulders, projecting an air of calm confidence that belied the turmoil churning within him.

"We have faced overwhelming odds before, and we have prevailed," Alton declared, his voice resonating with conviction. "Xulgoth and his army are not invincible."

Alton studied the map laid out before him, his face drawn tight in concentration. The three main tunnels leading into Aethelwurn were marked in bold, each one a potential avenue for Xulgoth's forces to pour through.

"How many fiends are estimated to be marching through each of these tunnels?" Alton asked, his finger tracing the winding paths.

Prian leaned forward, his eyes scanning the map. "According to Aethelwurn scouts, the largest force is advancing through the northern tunnel," his voice steady. "They estimate around eight thousand fiends, a mix of carrion stalkers, gwelli, and mindless."

Alton nodded grimly, his jaw tightening. The carrion stalkers were formidable opponents, their razor-sharp claws and insatiable hunger for flesh making them a terrifying foe. The gwelli, while less fearsome individually, could overwhelm through sheer numbers.

"And the other two tunnels?" he prompted.

"The western tunnel has an estimated six thousand fiends, primarily mantis fiends and morwarls," Seka continued. "The eastern tunnel is the smallest force, around four thousand mindless and a smattering of other creatures."

Alton leaned back in his chair, his mind racing with potential strategies. He turned his attention to the council members, his gaze sweeping over their grim expressions.

"What is the current strength of Aethelwurn's army?" he asked, his voice calm but firm.

One of the council members, a grizzled warrior with a deep scar running across his cheek, spoke up. "We have ten thousand Thoiri warriors ready to defend our home," he said, his voice tinged with pride. "Led by General Thrakul."

Alton's lips twitched into a wry smile as he recognized the name of the general he had bested in their duel. Despite their initial animosity, Alton held a grudging respect for the man's skills and experience.

"Ten thousand against an estimated twenty thousand fiends," Alton murmured, his mind already formulating potential strategies. "The odds are not in our favor."

A heavy silence fell over the chamber, the weight of the situation pressing down upon them. Alton could sense the fear and uncertainty radiating from the council members, their confidence shaken by the sheer magnitude of the threat they faced.

He turned to Amelia, Prian, Miser, and Jonah, his trusted advisors and comrades. Their expressions were grim but determined, a testament to the resilience and courage that had carried them through countless battles.

He glanced back at the map, his fingers tracing the winding paths that led to Aethelwurn's heart. A dangerous idea was forming in his mind, but Alton knew that his company was up to the challenge. They had been forged in the fires of war, their bonds tempered by shared hardships and triumphs.

Alton straightened his shoulders, his gaze sweeping across the council members. "I believe I have a plan that will give us a fighting chance," he said, his voice firm and resolute.

The council members leaned forward, their attention rapt as Alton outlined his strategy. "I propose taking a force of two thousand soldiers, including Wolf Company, and striking at the eastern tunnel." He paused. "If we can eliminate that army, it will significantly improve our ability to defend against the larger forces in the north and west."

"We'll be leaving the rest of the city vulnerable." Amelia said from his side in a low voice.

Alton nodded, acknowledging her concerns. "Agreed. The civilians should retreat to Thornwur until the battle is over." He gestured to the map, his finger tracing the winding paths. "A street-by-street defense may be our best chance against the larger armies. With the civilians out of harm's way, we can focus our full attention on the fiends."

The council members murmured amongst themselves, their expressions skeptical. Alton understood their hesitation – his plan was risky, but the stakes were too high to play it safe. Small arguments broke out between them and Alton waited patiently.

One of the other generals was staunchly against splitting their forces, spittle flying out of his mouth in rage at the suggestion. He was yelling at two other men, the conversations quickly devolving into shouting. Alton readied himself to silence the room but Thuklu shook his head.

Before the debate could continue, the doors to the chamber burst open, and General Thrakul strode in, his weathered face set in a grim expression. Alton felt a twinge of unease, recalling their last encounter. The raging general filled Thrakul in on Alton's plan and Alton could see the gears of his mind spinning with the information. Alton braced himself for another argument, or worse, another challenge.

"Captain Alton," the grizzled general rumbled, his voice low and solemn. "I have scouted the fiend armies, and I must admit that your plan has merit." He lifted his head, his eyes meeting Alton's with a newfound respect. "I pledge my support and the full strength of the Aethelwurn."

Alton blinked, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected show of deference. He had expected Thrakul to challenge his plan, not endorse it. The council members murmured in surprise, their skepticism giving way to cautious optimism.

Alton cleared his throat, nodding to the general. "I appreciate your support, General Thrakul," he said, his voice steady. "With your forces and Wolf Company at our side, I believe we can turn the tide of this battle."

As the council members began to discuss the specifics of Alton's plan, the captain's gaze drifted back to the map, his mind racing with contingencies and strategies. The odds were still daunting, but with Thrakul's unexpected alliance, he felt a renewed sense of determination.

Ulgarath and his forces would not prevail – not if Alton and his company had anything to say about it.

* * *

As the council members began to discuss the logistics of their plan, Alton turned his attention to the city's defenses. "We must prepare Aethelwurn for a siege," he said, his voice carrying across the chamber. "Every street, every building must be fortified and manned."

One of the elders, a wizened Thoiri with a long, silver braid, spoke up. "The civilians will be evacuated to Thornwur," he said, his tone grave.

Alton nodded. "Agreed. We must provide a heavily guarded escort for those fleeing the city. Ulgarath's forces may have already infiltrated the surrounding tunnels, seeking to cut off our escape routes."

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The council members exchanged uneasy glances, their faces etched with concern. Alton knew they were weighing the risks of diverting soldiers from the city's defense against the potential for a massacre of civilians.

Before the debate could continue, General Thrakul stepped forward, his expression resolute. "I will detail a contingent of my warriors to secure the path to Thornwur," he declared, his voice resonating with authority. "No harm shall come to those seeking refuge."

Alton felt a surge of respect for the grizzled general. Despite their initial animosity, he could not deny the man's dedication and courage. With a nod of acknowledgment, he turned his attention back to the council.

"Make the preparations," Thrakul ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. "We have little time before Ulgarath's armies are upon us."

The council members dispersed, their faces set with grim determination as they began to relay Alton's orders. Seka lingered at his side, her expression pensive.

"You have given them hope, Captain," she murmured, her eyes searching his face. "They will follow you into the very depths of the Abyss, if need be."

Alton's jaw tightened, his gaze drifting to the map once more. "Let us hope it does not come to that," he said, his voice low. "For all our sakes."

As the hours ticked by, Alton found himself swept up in the flurry of activity that gripped Aethelwurn. He moved from one strategic meeting to the next, coordinating the evacuation efforts and overseeing the fortification of the city's defenses.

Despite the gravity of the situation, he couldn't help but be impressed by the unwavering spirit of the Thoiri. They went about their tasks with a solemn determination, their faces etched with the resolve of a people who had endured countless hardships.

As night fell, the city took on a surreal quality, the normally bustling streets now eerily silent as the civilians made their way towards the evacuation points. Alton watched from a high vantage point, his heart heavy with the knowledge that many of these same streets would soon run red with blood.

A gentle hand on his shoulder startled him from his reverie, and he turned to find Amelia at his side. Her face was drawn, but her eyes shone with a fierce determination that stirred his spirit.

"A feast is being prepared," she said, her voice low. "It is tradition for the Thoiri to celebrate the night before battle, to honor those who may not see another dawn."

Alton nodded, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "A tradition I can certainly appreciate," he said, falling into step beside her as they made their way towards the heart of the city.

As they entered the main square, Alton was struck by the sight that greeted them. Long tables had been set up, groaning under the weight of an array of dishes that filled the air with tantalizing aromas. Soldiers and civilians mingled freely, their laughter and jovial conversations a stark contrast to the somber atmosphere that had permeated the city mere hours ago.

Alton felt a swell of pride as he watched Wolf Company seamlessly integrate themselves into the festivities, their camaraderie with the Thoiri warriors evident in the easy banter and shared stories. Despite the looming threat, they had not lost their spirit, their bond forged in the fires of battle stronger than ever.

As he took his seat at the head table, Alton raised his goblet, his gaze sweeping across the assembled crowd. "To Aethelwurn," he called out, his voice ringing with conviction. "May her spirit never be broken, and her people never bow to the darkness."

The roar of approval that met his words was deafening, a resounding testament to the indomitable will of those who called this city home. Alton allowed himself a small smile, his heart swelling with pride and determination.

They would face the coming storm together, and they would emerge victorious – or they would go down fighting, with their bellies full and their spirits unbroken.

* * *

Alton awoke before dawn, his body already thrumming with anticipation for the battle to come. He swung his legs over the side of his cot, taking a moment to center himself with a few deep breaths. Reaching inward, he activated his manasight, marveling at the vibrant swirl of mana that pulsed through his core.

His progress since awakening the Wolf of Winter was undeniable, and yet, he knew he would need every ounce of strength and focus to overcome the fiend army that awaited them in the eastern tunnel. With practiced movements, he began to cycle his mana, ensuring that his core, Fang, Fury, and his personal reservoirs were all brimming with power.

Satisfied with his preparations, Alton rose to his feet and made his way to the courtyard where Wolf Company was already beginning to assemble. His gaze swept over the familiar faces, each etched with a grim determination that mirrored his own.

"Amelia," he called out, beckoning his sergeant forward. "Ensure that every member of the company cycles their mana and fills their weapons and armor to capacity. We cannot afford to be caught unprepared."

Amelia nodded, her jaw set in a hard line. "It will be done, Captain," she said, her voice ringing with authority as she turned to relay his orders.

Alton watched as the members of Wolf Company dispersed, each seeking out a quiet corner to focus their concentration. He could feel the hum of their combined mana in the air, a palpable force that sent a thrill of anticipation through his veins.

One by one, they returned to the courtyard, their weapons and armor glowing with the telltale shimmer of mana infusion. Alton felt a swell of pride as he took in the sight of his soldiers, each a formidable warrior in their own right, but united as a force to be reckoned with.

Alton took a deep breath, his gaze sweeping over the assembled members of Wolf Company. Their faces were etched with determination, the familiar weight of their weapons and armor a comforting presence at their sides.

"My friends," he began, his voice carrying a sense of quiet authority. "Today, we stand on the precipice of a great battle. The fiends that threaten to overrun Aethelwurn are a formidable foe, and the road ahead will be perilous."

He paused, his eyes meeting each of theirs in turn. "But I have seen the measure of your courage, your dedication, and your skill. Time and again, you have proven yourselves worthy of the name 'Wolf Company.'"

Alton felt a swell of pride as he spoke, his words infused with the conviction of a leader who had witnessed his soldiers' growth firsthand. "You have faced adversity, overcome challenges, and emerged stronger for it. And now, we stand united, ready to face whatever the darkness may bring."

He raised his sword, Fang's blade gleaming in the morning light. "I know that each and every one of you will fight with the same ferocity and unwavering determination that has come to define us. Together, we will carve a path through the fiend horde and secure victory for Aethelwurn."

A throaty howl rose from the ranks, the sound echoing off the surrounding buildings. "Wolf Company!" they chanted, their voices joining in a powerful declaration of their unity and resolve.

Alton felt a surge of emotion, his heart swelling with pride and a fierce protectiveness for the soldiers before him. "Then let us go, my friends," he said, his voice ringing with conviction. "Let us show these fiends the true might of Agorra!"

With a final nod, Alton turned and led the way, his company falling into step behind him as they marched out of the eastern gate. The Aethelwurn army, led by General Thrakul, stood ready.

* * *

Alton gripped the hilt of his sword, Fang, as he led Wolf Company down the dimly lit tunnel. The assembled force of Thoiri warriors, led by General Thrakul, marched alongside them, their armor and weapons shimmering with the telltale signs of mana infusion.

Alton couldn't help but feel a surge of confidence as he surveyed the formidable group. The Thoiri elites, with their powerful mana-infused armor and impressive armaments, were a match for even the fiercest fiends. And with Wolf Company leading the vanguard, Alton knew they would be able to fight far above their numbers.

As they pressed deeper into the tunnel, the air grew thick with tension, the echoes of their footsteps the only sound to break the silence. Alton could feel the Wolf stirring within him, its primal energy coursing through his veins, ready to be unleashed upon their foes.

Alton's grip tightened on Fang's hilt as the scouts reported contact with the fiend forces. With a sharp gesture, he halted the combined army of Thoiri warriors and Wolf Company.

"Amelia, General Thrakul, with me," Alton commanded, his voice carrying an edge of steel. They gathered around him, and he quickly outlined the situation. "The fiends are close. We march to meet them head-on and hold this tunnel."

As he finished briefing them, a low rumble began to reverberate through the stone around them. Alton's eyes narrowed. He knew that bone-chilling sound all too well - the thunderous footfalls of an advancing fiend horde.

"Ready the lines!" he bellowed, his voice booming down the ranks. "Prepare to receive their charge!"

Turning to face his Wolf Company, Alton pulled both Fang and Fury free in a fluid motion. He took a deep breath, allowing his mana to surge through the blades, infusing them with crackling power. His own mana core thrummed with energy as he circulated it, the Wolf's feral essence mixing with his own.

Then the fiend army came into view.

A cold smile formed on Alton's lips as he beheld the grotesque horde - a seething mass of malformed bodies, gnashing fangs, and glistening blades. This was what he had been forged for, what the Wolf hungered for.

Alton's eyes blazed with primal fury as he unleashed a thunderous roar and charged headlong towards the fiends, his infused blades leaving streaks of light in the air.

* * *

Alton's blades sang through the air as he collided with the fiend horde, Fang and Fury carving a path of destruction through their twisted ranks. His blood thundered in his veins, the Wolf's feral essence lending him preternatural speed and ferocity.

A hulking fiend, its body a mass of chitinous plates and serrated blades, charged towards him with a guttural roar. Alton met its charge head-on, his infused blades deflecting its claws with a shower of sparks. He spun inside its guard, Fury lashing out to sever one of its grasping limbs. As the creature reeled back, he followed through with Fang, the blazing blade cleaving deep into its torso.

Black ichor sprayed from the wound as the fiend collapsed with a bone-rattling crash. Alton didn't pause, already pivoting to face his next foe - a lithe, serpentine horror that lashed towards him with venomous fangs bared.

Ducking under its strike, Alton rolled across the blood-slicked stone, coming up in a crouch. The fiend twisted towards him with blinding speed, but he was already moving, Fang and Fury whirling in a blur of steel. His blades caught the creature mid-strike, shearing through armored coils and sending twitching segments crashing to the ground.

Through the roar of battle, Alton caught glimpses of his Wolf Company warriors engaged in their own desperate struggles. Amelia fought with cold precision, her mana-infused blade a whirling dervish of light and death. Nearby, the hulking forms of Miser and Nelson stood back-to-back, their tower shields deflecting a hail of jagged bolts as they cut down any fiend that dared close quarters.

Even General Thrakul fought with the savagery of a cornered animal, his massive warhammer smashing fiends aside with every thunderous swing. The Aethelwurn elites rallied around their commander, holding the line with grim determination.

A hulking fiend, its maw dripping with corrosive ichor, lumbered towards him. Alton met its charge without flinching, his blades blurring as he deflected its clumsy swipes. Spotting an opening, he lunged forward, Fury plunging deep into the creature's exposed flank. As it roared in agony, he wrenched his blade free and brought Fang around in a blinding arc, decapitating the fiend with a single brutal strike.

More of the twisted horrors surged to take its place, but Alton was already moving, each step fueled by the relentless fury of the Wolf. He fought with a primal grace, his movements economical yet devastatingly effective. Fang slashed out, shearing through armored hides and splintering bone. Fury lashed in tight arcs, disemboweling fiends with every stroke.

All the while, Alton kept a wary eye on his internal mana reservoirs, carefully monitoring their ebb and flow. Whenever he felt his core dipping below three-quarters, he would use one of his reservoirs to fill his core.

He could not, would not allow himself to be caught defenseless on this battlefield of nightmares.

The battle raged on, the cacophony of shrieks and clashing blades a deafening symphony. Yet Alton heard none of it. His entire world had contracted to the space around his whirling blades, an eye of tranquil lethality amid the storm of combat. He became a primal force of destruction, cutting through fiend after fiend in an endless, murderous tide.

Dozens more fiends fell to Alton's blades as he pressed farther into the heart of the horde. His arms burned with exertion, muscles screaming in protest, but the Wolf's essence sang through his veins - an indomitable force driving him ever onward.

A pair of towering fiends, their bodies covered in jagged bony protrusions, lumbered towards him with earth-shaking steps. Alton met their charge without hesitation, Fang and Fury blurring in intricate patterns as he deflected their reaching claws. He ducked under one fiend's sweeping strike, then surged upright, both blades lancing out in a cross-slash that rent deep furrows across its torso.

Black ichor geysered from the wounds as the creature stumbled back with a tooth-rattling roar. Its companion lunged at Alton's unguarded flank, razored fangs gnashing mere inches from his face. He twisted away at the last instant, Fury flashing out to sever one of its grasping limbs in a spray of viscous fluid.

The maimed fiend staggered, off-balance just long enough for Alton to surge forward and drive Fang to the hilt in its gaping maw. He wrenched his blade free with a brutal twist, spinning away as the lifeless corpse crashed to the blood-slick stone.

Yet more fiends surged to fill the gap, a seething mass of tooth and claw driven by an insatiable hunger. Alton met them without pause, his blades weaving an impenetrable curtain of steel. Fang slashed out in vicious arcs, shearing through armored hides and splintering bone. Fury lanced in tight, controlled jabs, punching through weak points to disembowel the fiends with horrific efficiency.

All around him, the battle raged in a fever pitch of shrieks and clashing blades. Through the chaos, Alton caught fleeting glimpses of his Wolf Company warriors engaged in their own desperate struggles.

Alton's instincts sharpened as the battle raged, the Wolf's essence granting him preternatural awareness of the ebb and flow of combat. He sensed the fiend horde wavering, their numbers dwindling under the relentless onslaught of his Wolf Company warriors and their Thoiri allies.

This was the moment he had been waiting for - the tipping point where a well-timed strike could shatter the enemy's resolve. Without hesitation, Alton reached into the depths of his being and unleashed his powerful skill.

"Strength of the Pack!"

The words erupted from his lips in a bestial roar that reverberated through the cavern. An incredible surge of mana rippled outward, flooding Alton's core before radiating to every member of Wolf Company within range. He felt their spirits and stamina bolstered by his power, their strikes growing stronger, their movements more feral.

But Alton didn't stop there. Gritting his teeth against the strain, he extended his reach even farther, empowering any Thoiri warrior close enough to be caught in his aura. The mana expenditure was staggering, draining his core down to a mere sliver in the blink of an eye.

Alton ripped mana from the alta stones inlaid in his two swords, refilling his core to a third. Unwilling to let even a moment of this incredible power go to waste, he poured his mana into Fang and Fury, the infused blades blazing. Then he charged forward, leading the charge with a feral roar that echoed through the cavern.

His Wolf-enhanced warriors surged ahead with him, their blades and spears shearing through the fiend ranks with renewed vigor. Amelia became a blur of whirling steel, her infused blade carving a path of destruction through the horde. Miser and Nelson fought back-to-back, an indomitable bastion shrugging off increasingly desperate fiend attacks. Powerful blasts of mana erupted from Jonah and Letty. Infused arrows rained down from the rear.

Alton was at the vanguard, Fang and Fury weaving hypnotic patterns of death and dismemberment. He moved with blinding speed, every strike amplified by his momentary burst of power. Fiends fell before him in droves, their corpses littering the cavern floor.

A towering fiend, its body covered in jagged bone spurs, tried to halt his advance with a devastating overhead smash. Alton sidestepped the blow with contemptuous ease, both blades lancing out to sever the creature's arms in a spray of ichor. As it reared back, stunned, he reversed his grip on Fang and drove the blazing blade up through its gaping maw and into its brain.

More fiends rushed to fill the gap, but Alton was already moving, his blades tracing intricate patterns through the seething mass of bodies. Fury slashed out, disemboweling a fiend with a single vicious stroke. Fang lanced through another's torso, the force of the blow nearly cleaving it in two.

All around him, the fiends began to falter and break ranks under the relentless fury of the Wolf-enhanced warriors. What had been an organized horde rapidly devolved into a desperate rout as the momentum of battle shifted.

Alton could feel the Strength of the Pack fading, his limbs growing heavier with each passing second. But he didn't slow his advance, determined to press this advantage for every precious moment it lasted.

With a bestial roar, he launched himself into the heart of the retreating fiend forces, his whirling blades a cyclone of death and dismemberment. He would not stop, could not stop, until this horde was utterly broken.