Fury coursed through Karnak's veins like boiling lava. He’d been abandoned. The wrath within him swelled with each passing moment. His pride, once mighty, was dragged through the mud. Nothing more than a failed dog. He’d lost a single bout and Lord Alhusam had thrown him away. Abandoned him! For a single fucking fight! Tufan held the power to free him and had chosen to let him be dragged away, even ordered it. Allowing the claws of a sneering orc to throttle his champion.

It was unthinkable. Inconceivable even, how could a Lightning Lord offer no loyalty! The orc's rancorous laughter echoed through the juniper fields, taunting him with words laden heavily by venomous mockery.

"Ha, yous a propa runt you is." the orc spat, his voice like gargled gravel. "Wolfy’s s’posed to be tuff! Yer so pathetic yous boss left ya fer dead.”

Karnak's heart burned with the indignation of his impotence. The orc's words cut deeper than any blade, for they held a truth he could not deny. How could he be thrown away so easily? Tufan Alhusam, the Lightning Lord —his Lord— had turned away, leaving him to the mercy of this creature. A growl, low and menacing, rumbled from deep within Karnak's throat, but his strength had already been conquered, without that, what was Karnak?

Nothing.

Nothing more than a slave who couldn’t protect his lady.

Nothing more than a failure who fled from one failure into the next. He’d only barely protected Lord Alhusam from a single orc, what if there had been two of the creatures? What if Karnak’s involvement in the fight actually mattered?

Crushing worthlessness broke Karnak’s spine. He had failed his Lightning Lord in the first test. What had Tufan said…?

“Are you the champion Thaddeus promised? Or will you die from the shame of being saved?”

Those words sharpened his senses. His lord had given him an order. A problem to solve; and he’d allowed himself to be dragged away.

Lord Alhusam was right to abandon him.

Karnak’s loathsome self wasn’t fit to die in his presence.

This was the Lord’s warning.

‘Free yourself, or die and trouble me no longer.’

Seething rage went supercritical, detonating the nuclear power of fury and overflowing into a serene killing field. Clarity washed over Karnak, his wrath irradiating all other thoughts. Tufan had not abandoned him out of disdain, but to give him the opportunity to rise, for as the Lightning Lord often said in Argos, ‘pressure makes diamonds’.

Resolved, Karnak began to focus his energies, Thaddeus had beaten him black and blue despite being smaller and weaker. He’d taught him by exemplar the lesson he required in this moment, and taught him that lycanthropes possessed two talents that mortals did not. The first and most commonly known was strength and stature, while the second, was healing. Karnak inhaled deeply, preparing for the coming war by relaxing his body, walking with his captor instead of against him.

Around them the trees grew denser, accompanied by deepening shadows. Karnak would not die a prisoner. The orc chieftain was giddy now, sloppy after his conquest of a lycanthrope, careless. His grip slackened, attention faltering as he gloated over his prize. It was then that Karnak struck.

He inhaled deeply, then planted his feet and twisted out of the orc’s grip, running his bare throat across the steel sword. It bit into his neck, severing both carotid arteries and both jugular veins. Blood spurted, filling his esophagus with fluid.

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But the cut was clean.

And had not severed his spine.

Karnak’s vision darkened for the five seconds it took his neck to reseal, long enough for his body to collapse, falling to his knees.

“Wut a crazy git!” Exclaimed the orc, looking from his blade to the werewolf. “Oh well, meat’s back on da menu!”

He advanced on Karnak, yanking on one of his legs so the werewolf fell flat. Then muttered something about starting with the juicy thighs.

With a savage snarl Karnak rolled, pulling his captive leg into his chest and kicking out with his free leg. Claws raked across the orc’s gut, disemboweling him in a spray of entrails.

The orc roared in agony, surprised by the sudden assault and punched blindly. Volleyball sized fists pummeled lycan ribs, breaking at least one with every punch. But Karnak’s fury suppressed the pain, he sat up, doing an ab crunch despite the broken ribs. Enduring a level of pain that would have made him piss and shit himself just an hour before.

Karnak’s powerful jaws snapped toward the creature's wrist. Fangs found skin, then bone. Then they found each other as Karnak’s teeth bit through the chieftain’s dominant hand.

Instantly the orc howled. Throwing Karnak by the leg to grasp at his new stump. He tripped, falling into the bushes. While Karnak’s back slammed into a tree, ejecting the plug of liquid blood from his throat. It sprayed through his gritted teeth, tasting awful, yet right.

Victory came after pain.

Once more Karnak drew breath, inflating his chest cavity so his ribs could heal straight. They popped back into place. Just in time for the orc to rise from the bushes, lycan eyes met orcish peepers, and both men knew the battle was over. The orc ran, Karnak pursued him on all fours, running as his ancestors had. It felt good, correct, as if the chase was always where Karnak belonged, not locked within a cage of cats, but in the open fields, hunting the enemies of his Lightning Lord.

Bite, trip, lunge for the throat.

It passed in a second the instinctual coup de grace of all wolves. The maneuver seemed to execute itself, without any input from Karnak. Though he bit down a second time and the orc’s head came free.

That last final blow left Karnak looking over the severed head, the creature's sneering visage now twisted in fear. Exhaling his last even as Karnak inhaled his first gasp of air after becoming what he’d always aspired to be.

[champion] increased to level 1.

Karnak collapsed, falling to his knees;

weeping.

The werewolf remained there, beside his fallen foe, breathing heavily, the taste of victory sweet upon his tongue, mingling with the salt of his tears. Long minutes passed. Until the fury passed into satisfaction. Turning away from the orc, Karnak lifted his head to the heavens, his howling cry reverberating through the ancient woods.

It was a call to the Lightning Lord—a declaration that his champion was worthy.

Karnak strode clear of the juniper bushes, following the orc’s trail back to town. He strode through the crystal gates, his spine more straight than Taloc’s own lightning. Paladins moved to aid him then stopped, seeing the look in Karnak’s eyes. He was a changed man. No longer an untested pup, but a blooded warrior. So the paladins saluted him, stepping clear of his path as he returned to the lead wagon.

Tufan Biliam Alhusam sat in a circle of particularly battered humans, healing any injuries the other paladins could not. Though he made them try, forcing them to exert themselves to the fullest. Karnak knelt, dropping the orcish blade and then the severed head of the orc chieftain at Tufan’s feet.

“Your champion has returned.” Announced Karnak.

“Get that head out of here, I can’t imagine what diseases the orcs might carry.” Said Tufan, glancing at Karnak’s bloody neck.

He leaned in, and tousled the lycanthrope’s ears. “Good job, I can see through Quetz’s eyes. I saw everything. And have never been more pleased to be wrong.” Whispered Tufan, returning to his healing.

Karnak had never heard sweeter words in his entire life. Not even when his slave collar had been disarmed, or when Maya praised him, and it took every ounce of willpower he had to keep from crying. He took the orc’s head, and strode away, hiding his glistening eyes from his fellow warriors, and thanking Tufan once more.