"I really want to punch that Fucker in the face."

Ironically, with that one sentence, it felt as though the air had been punched out of Waverly's lungs, but in a weirdly good way. It was a bit like she had released a breath she hadn't even known she was holding, one she had been holding for the longest time. It was this muscle-soothing, eye-watering sense of relief that told her she just said something very, very true, even before the system triggered.

Well done, child. For listening deep within yourself, and finding a truth to speak, you have been awarded 6,520 [Werewolf] experience.

Again, Waverly was briefly distracted by what an odd skill [Call of the Moon] was. Half of its perks never really did anything, but they seemed to trigger something in some way or another, which was something she’d never heard of before. But she wouldn’t complain, and it totally didn't matter right now, anyway.

What mattered was that after all that tension fled from her in a long, shuddering breath, relief like she’d never known before occupied the empty space it left behind.

And with that relief came clarity.

Suddenly, going out there and standing up for what she believed was right wasn’t even a question anymore. Even with all the newfound clarity, however, it took her a moment to truly understand what had changed. Only when Victor punched her on the shoulder and nodded towards the entrance did everything fall into place.

In the deep dark of the Broken Mines, Waverly started moving, and so did the catboy.

She could see his shadow, driven forward by flickering torchlight, growing and shrinking beside hers.

With each step, she went a little faster.

Up until she’d spoken the words, she hadn’t even understood how much she believed that there was only one outcome.

Small pebbles crunched under her feet as a walk turned into a slow jog.

She had believed that hiding who she was under the weight of responsibility was the only way forward.

A low growl rose from her throat.

Without even realizing it, she had believed that this would be just like things were at home, where she would always have to sacrifice for the pack.

Her fingers flexed, and her claws extended.

Faced with a choice that would lead to consequences she couldn't even begin to predict, she had defaulted to the behavior that had corroded itself into her very being: to let the events play out as they would, even if it meant that she was being tossed around as they did whatever they wanted, didn’t care about her at all.

She had almost accepted that things would always be the same.

With barely any effort, she willed [Shape Shifting] to extend to her leather boots. The leather creaked as it molded itself to her desires, accommodating her feet as they changed from plantigrade to digitigrade.

She’d been stuck so deep in her head, she’d been blind to the fact that this was a new step in her life, and that it could be different.

The torches flashed by in a rush now, her vision alternating between light and dark at every fourth step.

Her steps thundered heavily in her ears as her jog turned into a full-out run.

This would be different, if she wanted it to be. And by all the dark gods, she wanted it to be different, needed it to be different, craved that proof that would revive her hope from its uncomfortable ashes.

And as the bones in her face elongated, as she felt the familiar prickle of fur covering her entire body, as she opened her mouth to express all the joy, relief, anger, and even her sadness in a singular, clean howl, she promised herself to remember now and forever this endless feeling of relief.

Things didn’t have to be the same.

Ahead, just at the point where the rhythmic pattern of torches vanished, the darkness of the tunnel gave way to warm evening light.

She barreled out of the tunnel in full Werewolf form, straight into the surprised group of adventurers. She grinned when the sneers vanished from their faces like shadows expelled by moonlight.

Only when her shoulder crashed square into the middle of Terrence’s sternum, and the shock of the impact rattled through her body, did she remember that she probably should have taken at least a little bit of time to talk and plan with Victor.

Or maybe not.

The impact robbed much of her momentum, but it sent Terrence flying backward, landing on his back and sliding at least a coffin before he came to a halt. A warm evening wind blew through the pit, stirring up the dust into small tornadoes that caught the waning sunlight, and for a second, nobody moved.

She knew what she looked like in moments like this. Like every teenage werewolf, she’d checked herself out in the mirror more than once and practiced looking extra fierce, which wasn’t as easy as it seemed, because you had to make sure the corners of your mouth curled down, not up or you looked like an adorable puppy, which was also useful sometimes, but not in a fight like this.

No, here she wanted to look exactly as she did, an embodiment of feral rage and pent-up power. Inside, however, she wasn’t furious at all. There was the usual calm that came with being in a fight, where few thoughts remained that didn’t have to do with how to win, sure, but there was also something different. The battle calm was super amazing, but sometimes, it felt a bit like a band-aid, like she plastered fury over her worries, only for them to return in force when the battle was over. Right then and there, though, she wasn’t angry, not even in the slightest. Anger meant you lost control of yourself, and she knew how that felt, but ever since she’d made her decision and set herself into motion, venting all that damn pressure, she’d felt more grounded than anything else. Sure, she still wanted to punch Terrence and his cronies until they despawned, but thinking about that felt super calm somehow, probably because it was a conscious decision. What she was about to do had to happen as sure as the sun set and the moon rose, and her thoughts flowed with the same nonchalant inevitability.

No, she wasn’t angry. This didn’t feel like anger at all, with all its explosive energy and hot impulses. This was warm, yeah, but also soft and comforting, and when that feeling hit the trembling calm of battle, it made her feel like nothing else really mattered. Like what she was doing was right, and so damn legit that if she thought about it for too long, she knew it would make her cry.

For the lack of a better word, above anything and everything, Waverly felt righteous.

She snarled with content purpose and took a step towards the heap of armor and limbs that was Terrence.

Then a lot of things happened at once.

Terrence croaked something about “the damn wolf”, Whirlwhisper conjured a rapidly spinning globe of water, and Slasher vanished from sight. Victor was still nowhere to be seen, but Waverly ground her worries to dust deep in her throat, her growl trembling through her entire body. She took another step forward but immediately knew she wouldn’t have time to finish Terrence off when the mage launched her attack, sending the Waterbolt hurtling through the air. It was way slower than Waverly would have believed, for sure, probably because of the level difference, but it still looked like it would hurt, so she dodged backward and received a long knife straight into her side for her trouble.

Her growl turned into a wheeze as the rogue materialized in front of her, pulling his knife free to launch a series of attacks that Waverly couldn’t dodge properly, still gasping for air.

“Not immune to stuns! This will be easy!” Slasher yelled toward the rest of his group, and Waverly watched with concern as Terrence got back to his feet.

“She’s still super high level! Did you see that reaction time?” Whirlwhisper yelled while preparing another Waterbolt.

“Doesn’t matter. She can’t dodge while she’s stunned,” Terrence yelled, unsheathing his two-handed sword after finally regaining his balance. “Stunlock, Slasher, go, go go!”

“Not my first Dungeon, Terrence…” Slasher growled, low enough for Terrence not to hear it.

Waverly didn’t take Mob Behavior 101 yet, but even she knew that they were supposed to just ignore everything the players said to each other. Still, even while Slasher drew his fist into her gut so hard it made her double over, she was torn between frowning because she was annoyed at being talked about, and laughing because it was actually kind of hilarious that they hadn’t switched back to party chat, because they probably had only switched to all-chat to be able to talk to her in the first place. Well, she heard them loud and clear.

Still, the situation she was in wasn’t super great, was it? If she’d been registered as a Boss, she’d be immune to stuns, but even if she hadn’t done that, the rogue had to slip up at some point, didn’t he? Perhaps miss an ability, or just run out? Sure, because of the level difference, his attacks hurt her about as much as her little brothers when they tried to playfight, but she wouldn’t be able to endure that barrage forever. Especially not with Terrence also joining the fight, and the Mage throwing those damn waterballs…

Actually, why hadn’t she thrown a single one after the first?

“Fuck! Slasher! Keep her stunned, Whirlwhisper aggroed some sort of stealth imp,” Terrence shouted. Waverly could barely catch a glimpse of him dashing toward the Mage before Slasher drew a dagger over her brow, resulting in blood gushing into her eyes, blinding her until her regeneration kicked in. Damn, Waverly hated to say it, but while she would wipe the floor with every single one of them one on one, they were damn good as a group. If they still had a healer, it would probably be impossible to beat them two-on-four, even with a “stealth imp” on her team. Oh, she would have to remember that one.

“First a werewolf, now an imp? The fuck is this Dungeon’s theme?” Slasher yelled. It sounded different, a bit like he was shouting over his shoulder. He wasn’t attacking her, which was smart, because that would mean he’d be close and she could just hit him with wild swings.

Instead, she wiped the blood out of her eyes the second she felt the gash close, lifted her bloody paw for a counterstrike and—got hit by another punch to her solar plexus.

Okay, this was getting fucking ridiculous. And the hundreds of small cuts started to smart, too. But if she read the rogue’s expression well enough through the haze of her eyes watering from the punch, he was finally out of tricks.

A second later, he confirmed as much. “Guys, I’m out of stuns here…” he said loudly, voice rising in pitch as Waverly rose from her doubled-over state.

“We’re busy here! It’s some sort of annoying cat demon fuck, and he’s dodging everything!” Terrence shot back, rhythmically grunting with the effort of swinging his sword wildly.

“Cat Demon?” Slasher asked incredulously, and this moment of distraction was all it took for Waverly to backhand him across the face with enough force to send him tumbling backward.

Level differences were nothing to fuck with.

She didn’t hesitate a second, charging right after the rogue. He was already trying to get up, but Waverly triggered [Feral Dominance] and growled. The skill bought her another second in which the human just looked at her with a meek-but-awed expression, which was far more than enough to land a kick in his side. He rose a few nails into the air, crashed back down in a puff of dust, and rolled through the dirt with the inertia. What was weird was that he kept rolling way farther than he should have, disappearing in the billowing dust. Even if Waverly had kicked him as hard as she could, he should only have rolled once or twice, maybe. It wasn’t like she was a level 60 raid boss…

Ahhhh fuck.

She dashed after the rogue, but it was too late. When the dust finally settled, the rogue was nowhere to be seen. Without missing a beat, Waverly readjusted her course, heading straight for where Terrence, Whirlwhisper, and Victor were duking it out. She wouldn’t waste her time searching for Slasher when there were friends to help, and faces to punch instead.

Waverly had seen Victor fight on FightNight several times now, and while he definitely had talent, he was still very raw. He was acting more on instinct than planning, which was fine when you dueled someone in a bar for fun, but wouldn’t really do much against opponents who knew what they were doing. Because Victor was Victor, though, he hadn’t put in any amount of time into training, which was well enough because he was going to be the Dungeon Master, not the Dungeon Boss. However, that meant that taking on two people at once was totally above his skill level.

Even though he was doing well enough, all things considered. As Waverly approached, he flipped through the air, narrowly avoiding Terrence’s sword. If he had been more experienced, he might have used that same jump to counterattack, perhaps landing a hit on Terrence, but he landed behind the mage instead, buying himself more time. Whirlwhisper was grimacing as she spun to keep track of the catboy, several gashes on her face evidence that Victor hadn’t just been on the defensive.

Terrence, on the other hand, looked exhausted. He swung his sword again and again, even though he had absolutely no chance to hit Victor. Even worse, his reckless attacks made sure that Whirlwhisper had to spend her time and energy dodging not one, but two people.

“What are you doing?!” Terrence screamed at her. “Cast some goddamn spells already!”

“Stop fucking hitting me and I will!” Whirlwhisper yelled back, but then she caught Waverly’s approach.

“Wolf!” was all she managed to say before Waverly slammed into Terrence once again. Not for the first time, she wished she had a skill that actually made her better at unarmed fighting, like her parents did, but even without the added supernatural oomph of the system, her charge left Terrence reeling, level-difference be praised.

As he wheeled his arms, trying not to fall over again, there was a beautiful moment in which he was open wider than the legs of a female werewolf in heat. And in that moment, Waverly—muzzle drawn into her most vicious smile—stepped past his defense in one fluid motion, pulled her arm back, and finally threw her fist forward with explosive force.

She’d talked to a rage demon once, one of the old devils who tortured people before the shift, and he’d told her that fantasies borne from anger were always empty, which made them great for adding a bit of despair to your punishments. So when Waverly finally punched Terrence in the face and it actually felt very, very fulfilling to see his face when her knuckles made contact with his nose, she saw that as confirming her earlier thoughts about anger, revenge, and doing the right thing.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

This wasn’t anger. This was righteousness.

Because anger could never, ever feel this good.

Terrence sailed through the air, his sword spinning away, and the moment was so blissful, she was almost tempted to just dust off her hands and walk back to the Dungeon. She’d done what she promised herself to do after all. But there was a fight to win still, and she would totally not waste a good fight, like, ever.

So instead, she brought up her leg and turned, slamming her heel straight into the Mage’s stomach. She stumbled back with a quiet “oomph”, straight into Victor’s waiting claws. The catboy wasted no time, his fingers glowing with the telltale sign of his [Vampiric Hunger] as he lashed out, scoring several hits in rapid succession. He and Waverly were still not quite sure how the skill actually worked, because as far as they could tell, it did no lasting damage, nor did it make people depressed or whatever. To add to that, it worked better on some opponents than on others, and there was no rhyme or reason as to why. Their best guess was that maybe it siphoned mana or something, and made Victor stronger. That theory was so flimsy, though if it were clothes, not even her parents would make anyone wear them.

Anyway, while Victor was busy draining the will to live from the mage, Waverly sprinted after Terrence. The tank lay on his back a few coffins away, fingers clawing through the reddish dirt uselessly as he struggled to get up. While she closed the distance, Waverly took a second to calculate the most optimal approach. Bite him? Nah. Too much armor. Claws were useless, too, so no disembowelment. She wouldn’t be able to kick him like she’d kicked the rogue, either. The plate armor would weigh him down, and she’d just hurt her feet. Oh! Weight! Her best bet was to pin him down and pummel him until his health zeroed out!

Incidentally, that sounded like a lot of fun, and she didn’t mind that plan at all!

She picked up speed and was about to pass the point where Terrence’s massive sword lay on the floor when she caught a distortion in the air to her left. Immediately, she broke off her sprint with a roll to the right, coming dangerously close to cutting herself on the blade when she rolled over it. Getting to her feet as quickly as she could, she scanned the area for the telltale signs of someone using [Stealth] and burned valuable time in the process. Terrence had managed to roll to his side and was already getting up, so that opportunity was now wasted. Fuck.

Still, no more sign of Slasher. Maybe he had just tried to scare her so that Terrence could get back up? That way, the tank could try and catch Waverly’s attention so that—

In the last second she had, Waverly grabbed the sword that still lay in the dirt beside her, and hurled it toward Whirlwhisper, hoping for a lucky hit. Then the familiar feeling of a knife sticking in her kidney was with her again, and she really totally absolutely hadn’t missed it, like, at all.

It was a good thing she wasn’t able to breathe, or she might have broken immersion with a string of expletives that would have totally sounded super annoyed more than pained. She tried to straighten to fight back, but the expected sucker punch to her stomach doubled her over again, even as her regeneration fixed the wounds she suffered as soon as the rogue could apply them. Still, they hurt, and she knew her healthpool wasn’t totally endless.

Which, it turned out, would become a problem really quickly because, through half-closed eyes, she saw that Terrence had gotten back to his feet. He wasted a few seconds looking for his sword, but when he couldn’t find it, he pulled two vials from a pouch on his belt and downed them one after the other. Within seconds, he looked like he’d just woken up from a nice nap, and while he made a show of cracking his neck, his muscles began to bulge.

Which was not good, like, at all.

The last thing Waverly saw before Slasher gouged at her eyes again was a massive slab of Terrence-muscle, barely contained in his armor, walk toward her with the arrogant patience of someone who clearly had never been in a real fight before, and thought it was all just for show.

Then the blood got in Waverly’s eyes again, and she stumbled back, only to trip over something—probably Slasher’s foot—and experience that weird feeling you get when you fall with your eyes closed, like as if the entire world turns around you, until your back hits something very hard and very solid.

“All yours, Terrence,” she heard Slasher say as she frowned, wiping the blood from her eyes again with an annoyed growl.

Okay, this had gone on for long enough, and Victor really needed to hurry it up, because she was about to get really pissed off. Dying while on the job she totally expected, of course. She just didn’t want to die to this particular group. With a practiced move, she rolled, got to all fours, ready to spring herself back upright.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Terrence said behind her, and for a second Waverly thought the asshole meant her, because that would have been such a douche thing to say, and it totally would have fit the theme, but it was Slasher who responded while she finally regained her footing.

“Gonna help Whirl, of course. She’ll die against that Cat thing.”

Waverly heard gravel crunching behind her, and spun, just in time to barely dodge one of Terrence’s fists, which shot past her muzzle close enough and with enough force that she could feel the draft in her fur.

“Fuck that!” Terrence said, throwing another punch. Without the element of surprise, this one was way easier to dodge, and Waverly ducked in for a counterattack that left four long gashes in Terrence’s breastplate.

Did she mention that you didn’t fuck around with level differences?

“See? I am disarmed and this thing is obviously way too strong!” Terrence yelled.

Slasher hesitated, then went back in for another round of attacks. Waverly saw him coming, which helped dodge another of his strikes against her solar plexus, but only just.

“You just swallowed a Glorious Potion of Strength, T!” Slasher said, dodging backward to escape Waverly’s counter, a furious slash of her claws.

“Yeah, just to survive!” Terrence replied, throwing another punch that was easier to read than her little brother’s picture books.

“If the fucking cat kills Whirl, she’s going to lose all her levels!” Slasher wasn’t exactly getting desperate, but his attacks came faster as if he was on the clock.

“If the Werewolf kills me, the guild is going to lose its main tank! Distract her! Go!”

“Yeah but I’m not trying to date the fucking main Tank,” Slasher grumbled under his breath as he dashed after Waverly. It was obvious he was trying to keep her occupied, which was super dumb, because he clearly wasn’t built to be the center of attention, which should totally be Terrence’s job, but the guy just kept casually walking behind the rogue, trying to look dramatic or whatever. Beelzebub’s Balls, how was their Guild supposedly topping the leaderboards with this guy at the helm?

With a burst of speed, Waverly shot forward, clotheslining Slasher with a lucky punch, and she wasn’t ashamed to think that it felt really good to see the guy hacking and wheezing for once. Without a real skill behind the attack, however, Slasher caught himself quickly, falling in beside Terrence. The tank stepped forward, throwing another punch, but when Waverly dropped low to kick against his legs, Slasher was already there, jabbing at her outstretched leg. Waverly pulled back, but she’d overcommitted to the attack and lost her balance long enough for Terrence to wind up another punch. This one hit, right on her collarbone, and by all the fucking Lords of Darkness, it hurt.

“Nice!” the human yelled, finally deciding to move with all his pent-up strength.

Waverly grimaced, which probably just looked like another snarl to the two of them, and kept dancing backward while trying to find an opening. If it had only been the two of them, Waverly wouldn’t have worried. Even if Terrence got strong enough to do some serious damage now, he fought with the skill of a puppy on a tricycle, and he was on borrowed time anyway. But the fucking rogue was really pissing in her water bowl. If he somehow managed to start another of those series of attacks that left her stunned and gave Terrence a chance to lay into her, she’d have to make a quick trip to the revival circle.

With Slasher there to punish her for every attack she made against Terrence, and the threat of the rogue going invisible for another series of stuns if she didn’t pay attention to him, Waverly had to make a decision. Either go for the tank and risk Slasher getting another cheap shot in, or try to defeat Slasher as quickly as she could, leaving herself open to Terrence’s attacks. Either way, she’d run the very real risk of getting overwhelmed, and no matter how much she tried to tell herself that getting killed here was totally okay, it really didn’t feel like it would be. If this had been any other fight, sure! It would even have been her Job to die and drop some nice loot.

But she would never, ever roll over and take it from a guy who sent his friends to die.

This stalemate was the worst, for real. Sure, Waverly could keep dodging and trying to avoid Terrence, but that felt super bad because it made her look—and more importantly feel—like she was running away from a bully, and that was a total no-go as far as she was concerned. Besides, Slasher always seemed to be a little bit faster than her, and while Waverly could dodge Terrence’s clumsy blows for days, Slashers—well—slashes seemed almost impossible to avoid. Sure, they didn’t hurt much, all things considered, but with each wound her Healthpool had to close up, it diminished, and while Waverly didn’t have an exact number, she knew that it would be running low before long.

Well, it had been a good run, but if she could choose between a death of literally a thousand cuts or going down with her hackles raised and ears upright, she’d choose the latter, always.

So when Slasher moved in for the next punch that would hold her in place for Terrence, she didn’t avoid it. Instead, she backhanded the rogue’s chest the moment his own attack landed.

Then many things happened at once.

Slasher stumbled backward until he tripped and fell, coughing while his Health repaired the damage Waverly had done, but far slower than usual. Terrence put on a burst of speed, appearing before Waverly in two mighty strides, fist pulled backward for a strike that his annoyed expression told Waverly he thought he deserved to land. And lastly, Whirlwhisper cried out in pain.

Before Waverly could try to look over at how Victor’s fight was going, Terrence’s haymaker caught her across the jaw so hard that her vision went blank, speckled with tiny flashing stars. Her nostrils filled with that weird metallic smell that wasn’t quite a smell, before they were flooded with the distinctive scent of her own blood a second later. She was also pretty sure she’d just lost a tooth or two, and even though they were regrowing fast, that hit had put a noticeable dent in her Healthpool. She could feel it dropping, a little bit like being thirsty, tired, and hungry at the same time, except that the adrenaline kept her wide awake, and she totally didn’t feel like a snack at all right now.

“Shit! The cat got Whirl!” Slasher said, groaning as he got up. As Waverly blinked the stars from her eyes once more, she couldn’t tell if he was annoyed, sad or worried, but maybe it was all three at once.

“Doesn’t matter,” Terrence said, his voice laced with the sadistic glee of someone who thought they had a chance to unload their frustrations on prey that couldn’t fight back.

“We’re still in the Dungeon, T! She’s going to have to wait days for her respawn!” Slasher complained, clearly trying not to yell as his nerves went dangerously thin.

“I said it doesn’t fucking matter! Help me kill the Wolf, and then we’re out of here!” Terrence snarled, and went for another haymaker with a healthy dose of despair that made Waverly feel like stealing a few biscuits from the treats box. She really shouldn’t gloat. But damn, it was satisfying.

Waverly’s gamble had paid off, and then some. Slasher approached again, but his steps were beyond wary, almost scared, and that gave her way more than enough leeway to step into Terrence’s attack, block it with her forearm, and return the favor with another slash to his armor.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” the tank yelled at Slasher, who kept dancing backward, and Terrence would have said even more if Waverly hadn’t decided it was time for him to shut up and headbutted him in the face. Normally she wouldn’t go for such a dangerous move. She was leaving her back wide open for Slasher, but…

“Fuck!” she heard him yell as something large and heavy cleaved through the air with a massive whoosh that ended in a satisfying thunk and the gentle spray of pebbles all over her back.

“How the fuck is someone that small even lifting that thing?!” was the last thing Slasher yelled that Waverly paid attention to. She had more important things to do. Like for example grabbing the dazed Terrence, drawing him close, and then biting him in the face.

“Yyeeaaaarghhh!” the human yelled, much to Waverly’s satisfaction, but he tasted of salt and sweat and blood and while that probably sounded totally brutal, it was actually kind of disgusting. She’d bet all her cash that the Werewolves of old hadn’t liked the taste either, no matter how useful a move the ol’ Facebiter was.

Well, at least not the sane ones.

So anyway, Waverly unclamped her jaws from Terrence’s face, suppressed her urge to spit repeatedly to get rid of the taste, because that would have totally broken the coolness of the moment, and then pushed the pushover over. He fell, holding his face with his muscular hands, and crashed with another thud that somehow didn’t sound half as satisfying as what she assumed had been Victor ramming a huge sword into the dirt behind her. She’d have to check later, though, because she was busy pinning down Terrence by kneeling on his shoulders, and pummeling his face with one strike after another. Once he finally started to try and fight back, she blocked his blows and returned a couple of deep slashes, followed by a rapid series of punches—while making a mental note to not tell her parents how she had defeated an adventurer by sitting on his face—until his health finally bottomed out and he went limp.

Waverly got up, wishing she could have done something cool like yelling “Stop. Being. A. Bully!” to drive the message home with every single strike, but that would totally have broken immersion, and she really shouldn’t do that, not after things had somehow turned out well without her getting fined.

Now the last loose end to tie up…

She turned to find Victor, beaming with delight as he swung Terrence’s stolen sword—which totally meant she’d been right, fuck yeah—with wild abandon. Looking at his form, Waverly understood what had taken him so long with Whirlwhisper. His strikes were slow, imprecise, and heavily telegraphed, but she totally couldn’t deny they looked badass. Even better, each swing was a little faster a little closer to the mark. Victor was a lot of things, but he definitely wasn’t a slow learner, or otherwise, he’d never have made it to Sinner DeSade, home tutor or no. So it made sense that he kept learning with each attack, but still, Waverly thought they should probably wrap it up, so she sprinted toward Slasher from behind.

Victor, seeing what she was up to, repositioned with a whirl that spun the sword around in four circles, driving the rogue back, straight into Waverly’s path. She fell into a powerslide, angling her feet at just the right time to take her forward momentum and direct it upward, allowing her uppercut to hit Slasher in the lower back so hard that he went flying straight up and into the air.

Victor brought his massive sword around in a lazy circle that ended in a harsh vertical swing. Gravity asserted itself and delivered Slasher’s flailing form straight onto the apex of Victor’s attack, and the sword’s edge slid through his lower-level body like so much meat.

As quickly vanishing blood rained around him, Victor spun the sword over his head, finally letting it rest on his shoulder.

“Yoooo,” he said, smile wide and beaming brighter than the setting sun. “That was dope.”

Waverly cracked her knuckles, interlaced her fingers over her head to stretch, and then took a deep sigh. Her eyes wandered from Victor to Slasher’s corpse, then to where Whirlwhisper lay in a heap, and finally to the rapidly deflating Terrence.

She thought for a second. She knew Victor had done this for her, and that what they just did would throw back their plans for the Dungeon by weeks, if not months once Terrence and his lackeys started to complain back at the city, or on the forums or wherever.

She frowned, looking hard to find any traces of regret.

Nope, absolutely none.

So she said “Damn right it was!” and offered Victor her raised palm. She was taller than him, though, and she was about to lower it a little so he could reach it easier, but Victor just jumped and gave her the best high five she’d ever gotten.

“Yisssss,” he said, landing in a graceful crouch.

Fuck yeah! For totally brutalizing the enemies of your pack, you have just earned 3000 [Werewolf] experience!

Oh hot damn! For asserting your dominance over another Pack, you have just earned 5000 [Werewolf] Experience!

Unholy Guacamole! You just fought together with your pack for the first time, and it was dope! You have earned 100000 [Werewolf] Experience!

Awesome! You have just reached [Werewolf] level 20! You can now learn a new Skill!

As the infernal glow of her level-up surrounded her, hellfire and brimstone smoke and all, Waverly laughed, and it sounded just as free and relaxed as she finally felt. Tired and exhausted after everything that had happened that day, yeah, but also so damn right.

“Congratz, big shot!” Victor grinned at her, massive sword still slung over his shoulder. “Alright, the apes will take some time before they can respawn, but we should probably get back inside before someone else sees us.”

“Yeah!” Waverly agreed, her tail wagging as she shifted back into her preferred, half-human form. “Oh, actually, wait! We gotta do something!”

Victor tilted his head questioningly as Waverly rummaged around in her freshly re-formed clothes. [Shapeshifting] was great, but she could swear it always rearranged her pockets, except that maybe she kinda just always forgot where she put the damn… ah, there it was!

With one hand, she pulled out her Hellphone with its spiderwebbed screen and duct-taped back, with the other, she grabbed Victor by the shoulder and drew him close as she thumbed through the different programs until she finally activated the camera.

“You know you can just press the power button twice, right?” Victor asked.

“Pffssshhh…” Waverly replied.

And then, lamely, “It’s, uh... broken.”

“Your power button’s broken? How do you turn it on?”

“Uhh… ‘Dungeon Besties!’ on three, Vic!”

Victor laughed.

“One, two…”

The pictures came out beautifully.

image [https://i.imgur.com/DoBU40K.png]