The wolf was massive. Bus-sized, with claws and teeth as long as Cole's claymore. Its coat of fur was perfectly even, pure white, and only blemished by a few bloodstains. Some of the blood was darker in color, and one patch of it still carried a hint of earth and life mana—the remnants of its latest duel with the bear.

Its crown of bone was heavy. Both literally, as it was gigantic, and magically. Light pulses of mana spread from the spikes of the crown, filling the clearing with a sort of aura that pressed down on the smith's shoulders and mana veins, trying to make him kneel. It was an interesting technique, one that he would definitely be attempting to replicate eventually. If the wolf could make his whole body harder to move with just unaffinited mana, he couldn't even imagine what a forcefire aura would do. Probably something involving an astounding amount of violence.

Its red light was gathered around its neck and trailing down its back like a cape. It was at least half the size of the wolf itself and looked more solid than the magic of the dire wolves. The force powering it was brighter, stronger, and just better. As they watched, shards of the light broke off and formed into floating paws that were identical to the wolf's own, including razor-sharp sword-sized claws. Three floating limbs formed, leaving about half of the original light gathered around the Monster's neck.

What bothered Cole most was how the wolf looked at him. It looked arrogant, disinterested, and rude. Like a Karen with claws. Its posture was aggressive but relaxed, as if their group of a gunslinger, a mind mage, and the man who was the fucking Chosen Creator himself was no threat. Like they were dirt on its paws, a stain to be cleaned off and forgotten. And then, the wolf who had no right to form any human expressions or sounds, scoffed at him.

Cole saw red. Cole saw red, steel gray, and shimmering silver light as a forcefire blast worth a whole fifth of his man hit the Monster directly in its still-open mouth.

Cole did not deal well with being told what to do. He did not deal well with people assuming they knew what was best for him, or let alone that they knew better than him. But most of all? He would not tolerate, for a single instant, blatant disrespect. It was fine if you didn't like him. It was fine if you disagreed. But to look at him, his hard-won life and skills that put him above all others in his field, and to dismiss it? Not to dislike, not to argue, not even to walk away, but to fucking dismiss? That was a crime he would not forgive.

The beast howled in agony as force and flame ripped apart its bottom jaw, shearing through flesh and teeth with impunity. Only when the Monster's mane of red light shifted to stop the mana did the forcefire abate. A massive rent had been torn through the wolf's snout, a river of blood being held back by only the imitation red flesh of the beasts' power. Almost all of the teeth in its bottom jaw had been blown out of its jaw or forced into the roof of its mouth.

The beast's demeanor changed. There was no fear, not from a creature this arrogant. Instead, its eyes were filled with rage. Overwhelming, unyielding, and coursing rage.

Cole was standing at the opposite end of the clearing, close enough that the forcefire blast had hit but not enough to put him within the wolf's striking range. Mary was slowly circling around the edge of the clearing, waiting for a good opportunity to fire off a mind wisp. Jace was back up a tree a quarter mile away, monitoring the fight with his Gaze and lying in wait to strike. They were ready.

The three red light paws arrived first. One was just sent straight at him, and side-stepped easily enough. The other two had been sent off with at least a modicum of tactics, sweeping across the clearing from opposite directions to block off another escape. He took a few quick steps towards the one on the left, ensuring he would meet it first. He braced his claymore and sent the blade forward in a thrust that made the wind howl around the blade.

The sword was just barely longer than the claws, piercing the palm of the paw with only a single scrape on Cole's shoulder from a blade of red light. The smith planted his feet, digging deep into the ground, and spun with all his strength. The muscles in his legs screamed as he twisted his own momentum and that of the paw's attack into a perfect swing that hit the second paw perfectly, the first limb still attached to the blade making an ideal bludgeon.

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Both of the red constructs spun away, hazy at the edges as they tried to reform. Cole twisted again, transferring all the remaining momentum into an overhanded swing that, with the aid of the freshly activated rune, bit deep into the paw that he had dodged. It had turned back around while behind him, but its return had been thwarted. It was nearly bisected, becoming hazy at the edges as it tried to heal itself.

The smith turned back to the real wolf just as it rushed towards him. It lunged forward, its ruined jaw swinging forward with the speed of a sports car. He tried to sidestep the attack but only managed to avoid the teeth. The tip of the Monster's snout still hit him right in the chest, sending the man hurtling backward to slam into a tree. Cole had managed to keep his hold on the claymore, but when he stood back up to continue the fight he felt something in his chest stabbing into his skin. A broken rib, maybe two based on the pain.

But pain wasn't something that could stop him. If Cole Godamn Vance could still bodily drag himself back into the fight, you would find him there. He had pushed through hardship after hardship to get where he was. He had slaughtered dire wolves with his immense skill in weapons. He beat steel and iron into shape for a living. What was wrestling with a little pain, in the face of all of that?

The wolf tried to dash forward again, but a white wisp of mana hit it directly in the joint of its front left leg, making it nosedive into the forest floor. The paralysis wore off almost immediately, but Mary had saved his life with that wisp. She charged forward out the treeline, her spear brandished and almost glowing with mana.

When a rune was charged with enough mana, it began to pull in more and more qualities of its meaning. With Cole's claymore, that was the reinforcement of its chosen path. The steel was strengthened and made more durable, but so was its momentum. With enough mana, he could likely elevate it into unstoppable force territory. Or when guarding, it would become an immovable object.

Mary's spear was enchanted even simpler than his own weapon. 'Sharp'. It increased the sharpness of the weapon, obviously, but with the amount shoved into it, it did more. The idea of something sharp was to cut. And with the thickness of the Monster's hide, the runic weapon would fail to do significant damage simply due to the size of the blade. It would cut, but not well. This was not acceptable. And so, with the flood of mana Mary had poured into it, the spear cut.

A lance of white energy gathered at the tip of the spear, at least tripling the length of the blade. Mary was using mind mana to fuel the rune. It bit deep into the wolf's knee, almost severing one of the back legs. And almost like an electric shock, once the mind mana's job was done it jolted through the wolf's body, making the entire beast lock up and twitch for a few moments.

Those moments were all Cole needed to get back in the fight. The Monster's head was still on the floor from its trip, making it a prime target. Just as Mary had, Cole shoved a massive portion of his mana into the rune, at least half of what he had left. And he felt the claymore become set in its path. Utterly, unstoppable, undeniably. Perhaps a runic shield would have stopped it, or a Signature Ability focused on defense. But the beast had neither.

The claymore carved a line into the beast's nose, up its snout, and ending deep in its right eye.

The wolf screamed, an unholy noise that sent Cole staggering back without his weapon, and Mary retreating back into the trees. It writhed on the floor, smashing its head into the ground and nearby trees in an attempt to remove the blade. The blade bent, the handle was shattered and broken, and chips of steel fell off the edges. But even twisted beyond use or repair, the weapon stayed lodged into the wolf's head.

The Monster staggered to its feet, shaking off the paralysis and snarling in rage. And just a hint of fear. Good.

It glared directly at the smith with its remaining eye, blood and goop dripping from the other and staining its white fur. It was positioned unsteadily, staggering with its vision reduced and one of its legs almost severed. The back end of its body twitched a little every few seconds, hinting that there was still some mind mana in its veins.

But despite all the damage done, and the small amount of fear it now held, the beast was smiling. It's mane of red light rose above its crown, joined by the remnants of the floating paws, and even the light that was holding together the remainder of its bottom jaw.

All that light, all that power, twisted in on itself. It separated into dozens of shards, solidifying, shaping, and sharpening. Into dozens upon dozens of arrows. An entire volley of projectiles, floating above its head. And all aimed at the smith, who stood weaponless, armourless, and too far from the nearest tree to take cover. But despite his own disadvantages, the smith was smiling too. Because inside that swirling maelstrom of blood-red energy, he saw a pane of purple.

At the exact moment that the arrows were about to fly, as the wolf was preparing a howl of victory, a new sound broke through the clearing.

Boom