Star Fox Adventures: The Resurrection of Star Wolf

by LylatChronicler

The end of the Lylat Wars has brought about a bleak era, one where after years of solitude, Star Wolf is but a faded legend. None know Wolf by his true name, and his memories and power are both fading. His last hope lies on a desolate planet where a new war, new allies, and possibly a new life await him... (Part III of the O'Donnell Saga).

14. Chapter 14

Ok, let me make something clear, since some of you got the wrong idea: WOLF DOESN'T HAVE HIS INNER POWER BACK.

I know, the events in the last chapter were very convincing, but regardless, he doesn't have it back. Everything will be explained soon.

Chapter 14: The Dead Man that Killed

Slave Yard East, 5 ALW (HMD Period)

The morning sun cast its scalding heat into the thick air, although the temperature wasn't what made the air heavy.

It was the tension of the scene unfolding below that made the air seem heavier with anticipation, as all eyes remained locked on the opponents that faced each other from afar.

Their shadows stretched far across the sandy, cracked ground, one side engulfed with numerous shadows standing side by side, cackling and sneering...while the other side was covered with only one, solitary shadow.

Wolf stood rooted on his spot, digging his bare heels into the baking sand to reinforce his stance. He held his Claw in the SharpClaw's direction, the sunlight's glint running down the blade's point...as if daring them to attack first.

There was a clinking sound behind Wolf, as the still-chained Jaguar cringed fearfully at the sight of the group of SharpClaw across the field.

Fay's eyes traveled around quickly, as if trying to find some advantage for cover or escape. She wanted to stay behind and fight as well, but deep down she knew that she would only be a burden on anyone that stood their ground.

Drakon's reptilian smile widened. "So, the whelp wants to die...Tch. Perfect." He swung his head over to the other SharpClaw. "Elites! Grant him his request...and make it slow. I want his screams to be loud enough so that every soul in the desert can hear his suffering."

The SharpClaw flourished their weapons and prepared to charge, drawing their raptor-like feet back and clawing at the sand.

Wolf arched his back and drew back his Claw, growling threateningly.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM!

Suddenly, all of them stumbled back as the ground shook under their feet. There was a blasting wave of dust from the western side, and they all turned to see the towering column of black smoke rise from the other side of camp, illuminated by small, floating embers of a rising fire. The dust cloud ravaged the spot and swept over SharpClaw and slave alike with towering waves of sand.

Drakon flung a hand over his eyes to protect them from the needle-like grains of sand that rained down on them all, while his armor-plates and chain mail were rattled by a pulsing shockwave of a dying explosive blast.

"WHAT?" He cursed through clenched teeth. "An explosion?"

Then, he looked up, and saw a small, black object in the sky.

Squinting confusedly, he looked harder and saw that it was trailed by something bright an orange.

Then, his eyes widened. It was on fire.

He whirled around and roared to his Elites.

"RUN, YOU IDIOTS! NOW!"

The SharpClaw, too dumbfounded with shock to react quickly enough, just stared at the object as it came down.

Wolf took one look at whatever was flying down and felt his heartbeat quicken.

Oh, SHIT!

He sheathed his Claw and dove to the side into a hasty but efficient ground-roll. Right as he rolled aside, he felt the sweeping wind of a large mass falling behind him.

KKKKRRRRRSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

A massive, flaming chunk of stone debris came down in flaming bits, smashing down into the ground and sending waves of sand and dust in all directions. Sparks and flame washed over the surfaces of the charred rock, raining down on the sandy ground with blackened ash. Flaming rock bits rolled and bounced around the fallen debris, crushing any fleeing SharpClaw in their wake. The ground rumbled as all the stone wreckage collapsed on the ground, causing a massive dust cloud to erupt upon its impact with the sand.

Wolf halted in his sprint, his feet skidding in the sand, before he ducked behind a massive charred stone. As he sat behind it and caught his breath, coughing from the thick dust that coated the air, he ducked the tiny remains of the raining debris.

As the coiling smoke and glowing embers rose from the calmed collision, the dust cloud thickened as it wafted across the flaming heaps of battered rock, concealing all shapes and silhouettes in its mist.

All was quiet, except for the crumbling sound of burning rock falling apart, and the occasional coughing and groaning of SharpClaw that were either dazed from the explosion or looking around in confusion. The few that were crushed under the flaming rock didn't make any noise at all, so they weren't accounted for.

Wolf waited until his breathing became easier, and the atmosphere of panic and rushing drifted away.

Damn...what the hell WAS that?

He looked behind him and got a better look at the rock. He tapped the scorch-marks on the stone, analyzing the surfaces of where the burns had charred it the most. Judging by the intensity of the explosion, it was clear that it was the work of some high-grade explosive...but the material looked dry, and fragmented...like it had been made out some kind of wet clay or gel-like material.

His ears perked at a crumbling sound, and he ducked back behind the rock cluster, Claw at the ready.

He heard a familiar voice cough and curse angrily, without a laid-back or cunning drawl to his voice now. The voice barked a command that rang throughout the dust cloud.

"All Elites! Regroup to me, now!"

Wolf slowly looked around the rock to see Drakon, covered in dust and ash, with a face twisted with enraged frustration. The Head Scourge looked down at the rock, running his fingers across its surface.

His eyes widened. "These carvings...these were on the Northern Wall of the Temple!" He clawed the stone surface and crushed it with his massive fist. "This is part of the temple! It's being destroyed!"

Wolf's eyebrows furrowed.

Destroyed? By who...?

"How did this happen...?" Drakon muttered to himself, seething through his teeth. "How could anyone have snuck explosives into my slave yard? The fool who caused this better pray that I never find him...because when I do, I'll-!"

"Vice-Commander Drakon!"

Suddenly, a frantic voice broke through the charred atmosphere of the wrecked wall-remains, as a SharpClaw limped his way over from the direction of the smoking Temple. He staggered forward, his armor hanging in shattered remains and black blood oozing from a gash on his face, causing the trail of blood in the sand behind him to look like an ink trail. He collapsed at Drakon's feet, coughing hoarsely.

Drakon looked down at him. "You...you're with Gsildon's company on the Temple wall! What the hell happened over there?"

The SharpClaw looked up groggily. "Sir...the western wall's been completely decimated! Our forces have been overwhelmed by freed slaves carrying digging tools...and they've outnumbered us! One of them set off an explosion to the top-most pillar of the temple, and now the whole thing's coming down as we speak! It's an uprising, sir!"

"What?" Drakon grabbed him by the collar of his chain-mail. "How did they even get out of their chains? Who's leading them?"

"I-I didn't see anyone lead the charge...but there was a feline who gave the signal for the jail-break..."

"A feline?" Drakon's eyes darted alertly. "Who? Was it the Lynx? Did she sneak her way back in?"

"N-No, sir...it was a kid. Some ginger Tom, scrawny one too..."

Wolf's ears perked up at the words "ginger" and "scrawny". He managed a small smile.

Riley...

That crazy kid...he did it after all...

Drakon dropped him, rubbing his forehead with frustrated cursing. "An uprising...now, of all time...General Talon will butcher all of us like livestock if even one slave escapes..."

The SharpClaw stood weakly. "But, sir! That isn't all! The group that started the uprisng breached the northern gate and unlocked the barracks! They've started freeing slaves and escaping!"

"WHAT?" Drakon turned with blazing eyes, grabbing the terrified SharpClaw by his throat. "You brainless, pus-filled idiot! Why didn't you tell me sooner? Why did you even waste time coming over here and telling me, instead of lighting the damn beacon on the northern gate and signal for help? Half the fucking Slave Yard must have escaped by now!"

The bleeding SharpClaw rasped weakly as Drakon's thick, pincer-like fingers crushed his neck and stopped the circulation of air from reaching his gagging, blue face. Finally, when the scaly flesh on his neck started to tighten, Drakon snarled and threw him down.

"Enough! Get up, you swine, and listen. Go back to the western wall and light the beacon! The signal should reach the Imperial Guards back at the city and draw out reinforcements! Now stop wasting time, and do it! GO!"

The bleeding SharpClaw nodded fearfully and staggered away, while the others standing around Drakon snatched their weapons from the ground.

"Sir! Should we head there as well, to aid the others?"

The Head Scourge's eyes darted around hurriedly. "No! Not all of you...we still have other problems to attend to. You four!" He pointed at group standing near the flaming wall. "Take six or seven men and come with me to reinforce the defense of the garrison protecting the wall. You three back there, go back to the mud pit and gather as many Elites as you can to take back the barracks! Make sure not a single slave escapes, and don't kill any that manage to break out! We need them alive...their punishment will serve as an example for other resistant slaves. Now, go! Hurry!"

As the SharpClaw headed in each direction in armed groups, the remaining SharpClaw scattered around the wreckage stood where they were.

"What about us, sir? What's our task to carry out?"

Drakon walked over to where the flaming wall-fragment stood, and snatched a whip from one of the crushed SharpClaw corpses. He drew the whip back, weighing its handle in his hand before swinging it down.

Whrrr-TAAAAAKKKKK!

The bristled, rawhide end of the lash struck the ground with a ringing crack, splitting the grains of sand and planting a small, concave crater on the cracked, dusty surface. Wisps of dust rose from the struck spot, and Drakon turned, with a murderous gleam in his blazing eyes.

"You stay behind and search through this debris. Turn every scrap of rock over if you have to, but search until you find that canine son of a bitch. He's hiding out here...I can sense it. Engage him, and when you do, strip his corpse bare of skin and bring me his wretched hide, to ensure his death. That defiant bastard's gray fur has insulted my eyes for the last time, and I'll have it hang on the Slave Yard walls for the whole desert to see, to witness the price of testing my wrath." He clasped the bruised side of his livid face. "Talon may care more about how many of the other slaves escape, but I'll make it my personal business to make sure that one doesn't." His snarl curled the corner of his lip upwards, exposing his jagged fangs. "Understand? That canine doesn't leave this slave yard alive. Find him, kill him, and bring me his skin. And pray for your miserable souls that you don't fail me...or you can suffice for him by handing over your skin. Am I clear?"

The SharpClaw gripped their weapons fearfully and shouted simultaneously. "Y-Yes, sir!"

"Good. And if you happen to find that healer girl and the Jaguar with him, kill them too. Now, the rest of you, come with me!"

And with that, Drakon coiled his whip and bolted in the direction of the smoking temple, with a group of armed SharpClaw following closely behind.

The SharpClaw dispatched to look for Wolf spread out in all directions, pikes and daggers drawn and whips flourished.

Wolf leaned back behind his stone cover, flipping a middle claw in the direction that Drakon ran off to.

You want me dead, then you come and fight me yourself...you skulking, ass-faced piece of shit...

He drew his Claw from his belt and held it slightly over the side of the rock behind him. He scanned the reflective surface of the steel blade for any SharpClaw approaching, while he hammered his brain for a quick battle-strategy.

I'll have to fight my way out...nothing new...

Except I'm not fighting Cornerians or Desert Raiders this time...my opponents are SharpClaw...

A group of them, too...

He looked down at his bandaged arm. He knew he was physically inferior to them...there wasn't anything he could change about that. But there had to be some kind of tactical advantage he could gain over them...some weakness. He told himself the same thing he rehearsed in his mind before a difficult battle: Every opponent, regardless of their species, had an Achilles heel. Of course, that had always applied to every race of Lylatian he'd ever fought. But he hadn't crossed blades with a SharpClaw before...he didn't know where their vulnerable spots or pressure points were. All he knew was that they were bigger and stronger than him...and not as stupid as they looked.

He sighed uncomfortably, feeling hot and frustrated.

I know the focus of this kind of battle should be the strength of wits and combat skill...

But some Inner Power wouldn't hurt...

Then, he looked down at the fist he hurled at Drakon...which still felt numb from that incident.

He had managed to hide his surprise from Fay and everyone that had been watching, but that didn't mean it was absent.

That hadn't been a normal blow back there. Normal blows didn't cause atmospheric repulse like that.

His arm tingled hopefully with the frail possibility.

Could his Inner Power be back?

No, wait...there wasn't any fire in that attack...and it didn't feel the same...the vibe and rush of my Fire Wolf wasn't there.

And I didn't intensify that punch intentionally either...

I don't even know how it happened...

Is it some kind of a sign...that my Power is back?

Tingling hope churned its way up Wolf's stomach, and he couldn't contain his excitement even with his extreme doubt. He had to try, at least.

Hold on a minute, Wolf...don't be too hasty... He told himself firmly. Keep it together...

There's no guarantee it will work...hell, there's no guarantee that it has anything to do with my Inner Power...

But, still...it wouldn't hurt to try to use it...

He looked around, curling his hands into fists before digging his feet into the ground, preparing for the stance...

Then, he stopped himself.

No, WAIT!

I can't risk it...not here, of all places...

The same thing might happen again...it won't work, and that weird paralysis thing might happen to me where I can't move my body...

If that happens here, I'm completely fucked.

No...

I can't do it...

But maybe, I don't have to produce a massive flame...so I don't strain my Inner Power, in whatever condition it is...

And I definitely can't do anything like Wolf Flash, either...

I'll try out something small...like a spark, or a small flame...

That seemed practical. Not a complete effort, but a small, risky one.

His eyes darted around quickly, the pressure of real-world events waking him from thought.

I don't have much time...just one small test, and then I'm moving on.

With another pleading thought, Wolf cupped his hands together and held his breath. Then, he let out a small exhale. He tried to stay calm, and keep his expectations reasonable. He planted his feet firmly, and tried to withstand all distractions until he could feel his blood rush, and his spine rise. Then, with a determined breath, he muttered under his breath.

"Fire Wolf."

He looked down at the palm of his hand.

Nothing.

Not a spark. Not a flame. Nothing.

Cold disappointment washed over Wolf's insides like freezing water, except it shook his entire body with a melancholy shiver, not just the outside.

He stomped his foot with frustration, angry at his Inner Power for teasing him like that. What kind of inconsistency was this? If his Inner Power hadn't come back, than why did that shockwave from his fist happen? It didn't make any damn sense. None of it did.

Whatever...

The Inner Power can go fuck itself...I don't need it...

Besides, it would defeat the purpose of me fighting these people at all...

I'm going to fight this scum with my own skill and my own wits...like Leon said...

If they're going to be brutal, then I have to be brutal back...

He gripped his Claw, and prepared to vault over the rock pile.

Then, he stopped himself, eyes darting around quickly.

No...

That's a stupid approach to take...that's what made me lose in the first place...

The end result will be the same...

I won't win the battle that way...

...the only way to gain an advantage is to surprise them...to catch them off guard by fighting with tactical superiority...

But how...? I don't know my enemy this time...

Then, remembered advice Leon had given him back at the Academy, a time and age that seemed like eons ago in Wolf's head...

"To leap the precipice, one has to avoid the common, impulsive mistakes that every other fool made to cause him to fall in. To avoid them, he must stand back, examine the crevice, analyze it...and cross it with his own strategy as the bridge."

Wolf looked up, with realization glowing brighter than the glaring hue of the sun.

That's what I have to do...

If I don't know my enemy...

His eyes narrowed cunningly.

...I have to get to know them...

Analyze them...

...like a predator hunting prey...

A few minutes later...

The SharpClaw began scouring the area for any signs of life...kicking over rocks, cautiously nudging flaming piles of debris, and recoiling with disgust at whatever smashed SharpClaw corpses they found in the wreckage.

The leader of the dispatched group, a yellow Elite, barked to the group as they searched.

"Keep looking! He can't have gone far..."

But as they moved past pile after pile of rock with uneasy haste, in the heat and annoying ash of the dying fires, they didn't notice a small, white hand snatch a dagger from the corpse of one of the SharpClaw.

Fay grabbed the dagger's handle and dove back behind her rock cover, breathing heavily and praying that she hadn't been seen. After some rushed exhaling, and darting her head back a few more times to make sure the coast was clear, she took a deep breath. She tightened her bow to keep her hair from falling in her eyes, which was irritating in this unbearable heat, crouched down and sprinted towards some flaming debris.

Her small, light feet moved speedily across the sand, quietly enough not to attract too much attention. She ran a nervous hand past her cheek and brushed her bangs aside, terrified that her clumsy legs would trip over a brick or shaft of wood she didn't see and blow her cover.

No...she couldn't screw up this time. This wasn't knocking over pots and pans in the kitchen, or dropping a crate of fuel canisters in the Shuttle Dock. If she blundered here, people could die because of it. She could die because of it.

But with a rush of relief, she found the block of stone she had hid under after the collision a few moments ago, and turned behind it to find what she was looking for.

The Jaguar was still locked in the tight hold of the rusted-locked stockade. By sheer luck, the flaming debris that had shattered off the fallen wall had landed a few feet past him, just missing his slunk-over, scarred back. The collision hadn't inflicted any serious damage, other than clumps of rock and splinters of wood that hung on his fur from the explosive impact.

Fay ran over and jabbed the dagger's blade into the cracks of the locked hinges of the stockade wood slab.

The Jaguar looked up weakly, but managed to glance at her with dazed confusion. "What are you...doing...?"

"Shh! Please, be quiet!" She whispered hurriedly, before pulling down on the handle shakily, wrenching at the rusty hinges with the dagger. "I need you to hold still..."

It took lots of grunting and sweat, but after digging the handle against the palm of her hands with so much strain that the leather imprinted against her skin, she pried the weak metal hinges open.

Krr-KLANK!

The lock fell off and Fay let the knife slide from her palm to the ground, clutching her hands as she rubbed the imprinted marks gingerly.

The Jaguar fell to the ground weakly, since the stockade was the only thing keeping his limp body up. His bony wrists slid from the unhitched holes in the stockade, before being caught by Fay.

She hoisted him up, throwing one of his spotted arms around her shoulder and dragging him along with her.

"Please...get away from here..." The Jaguar murmured in a dangerously frail voice. "Leave me..."

"Save your strength," Fay muttered, looking around quickly. "Let's go find your wife. She's got to be back at the barracks, somewhere..."

The young Spaniel girl hobbled quickly, panting under the surprisingly burdensome weight of the wounded Jaguar. The dust from the collision was already clearing, and SharpClaw were bound to notice her soon, if she didn't hurry.

Then, she spotted the dark, billowing tower of smoke from the direction of the burning Temple, and tried to sprint as fast as her small feet could carry her.

"HEY! There's one over there!"

Fay's heart leapt to her throat as she looked back to see a SharpClaw, a couple of yards away, pointing his whip and her direction.

No! She screamed in her head. Not now...not now!

"It's the healer girl!" The lead Yellow Elite shouted. "GO AFTER HER! Don't let her escape!"

Fay didn't hesitate to catch her startled breath. Heart racing and blood pounding deafeningly in her ears, she took off in the other direction, her feet stomping in the sand and causing sand to fly up around her legs. Every now and then, the Jaguar on her back's feet would drag against the ground behind her, slowing her down. She huffed desperately, wishing for a third hand to swipe the relentless bangs out of her face, before heaving his body higher up her back before running faster.

The ominous sound of clanking armor plates, clinking chain mail, and the unmistakable pounding of reptilian was quickly approaching behind Fay.

Fay's bright, terrified eyes looked everywhere for a hope or cover, the horizon and smoking Temple in the distance bobbing up and down in her vision as she ran toward it.

WHRRR-TAAAAKKKK!

The coiled leather of a whip snapped around Fay's ankle like a striking python, before jerking back. With a slip of balance, the sickening rush of falling, and a canine yelp, she fell face-first into the ground, which slammed against her body roughly.

The groaning Jaguar's body collapsed on her back, causing her to suffocate under his weight. She wriggled around, coughing and brushing sand out of her face, before turning to see the towering, black silhouette of a SharpClaw looming over her.

Her eyes widened. Her shaky hands rummaged through her belt for the dagger she had picked up, as if foolishly resolving to actually putting up a fight that wouldn't last.

The SharpClaw sneered and drew his long-knife, which gleamed as it slunk out of its rawhide scabbard, before swinging it down.

Pit-Pat-Pit-Pat-Pit-Pat!

Suddenly, the SharpClaw turned slowly at the sound of padded feet running from behind. On instinct, he whirled around, swinging his knife.

Swa-SHING!

Wolf ducked and curled into a roll as the knife swung over, the dull surface of the blade just grazing the fur on the tips of his ears as he went down. Rolling past him and bolting up into a crouched position, he drew his Claw.

Even while crouched, he was still huge compared to Fay. He may not have been as muscular or bulky as he was a few weeks ago, but he still towered over her. However, nothing could change how weak he looked. Whatever threatening or foreboding look he gave off from afar wasn't at all present up close. His face was sunken and hollow from extreme blood loss, and his ribs peeked through his fur from malnourishment. He looked skinny, frail, and scarred.

And now that he was this closed, he didn't look the least bit intimidating to the SharpClaw.

The SharpClaw's surprised eyes faltered, and a savage grin appeared on his lips. "HA!" He charged forward, bringing his blade down.

CLANG!

Wolf barely had time to block the blow, raising his Claw in front of his face as the knife came down on him. The blade rattled against the steel edge of his Claw, sparks reverberating off of their grinding collision. The SharpClaw poured his massive, bulky weight on the back of his grip, forcing Wolf back.

Wolf dug his feet in the ground, grunting as he struggled under the superior muscle of his opponent. He shot his hand out frantically and placed his palm behind the back of his blade, holding the intense strength of the SharpClaw back with both hands, his feet sinking in the sand as he was pushed lower.

As his grip shook and his wrists started to ache from holding the blade-lock, sweat started to pour down Wolf's neck as his fur spiked with strain.

The SharpClaw laughed spitefully. "Tch! What kind of bullshit is this? This is the slave that seemed so menacing and intimidating five minutes ago? This is the canine who blew that bruise in Drakon's face? I couldn't believe that crap even if I wanted to!"

He pressed his weight harder against his blade, causing Wolf clench his teeth and wince as the back of the Claw dug into his hand.

"Well...I don't care how fearsome he looked from far away...up close, he looks like a mangy, tattered little scarecrow. He doesn't look like he has a merciless bone in his body!"

As he struggled under the cumbersome weight of the SharpClaw, Wolf's eyes darted around in frustration. Surrounding the sandy spot where they stood, massive broken heaps of rocky debris towered over them, too high to climb and too wide to run around. They were as good as walls, herding them into a tight space like an alley.

Secluding and tight...

Without a moment's hesitation, Wolf hooked his Claw around the SharpClaw's blade and swung him to the side, flinching as the push against his strength caused his bandaged shoulder to pop slightly. Snatching the keys that dangled from his belt as he was swung aside, Wolf staggered back from the SharpClaw and grabbed Fay's arm.

He dragged her far enough from the SharpClaw's range of swinging, and tossed the keys to her. She caught them in surprise as he stood with his back in front of her.

"You, Fay!Get to the barracks and try to see how many slaves you can free with those, and get yourself out of here! I'll hold them off as long as I can! MOVE!"

Fay nodded hurriedly and hoisted the Jaguar up on her back, before running off, the clinking sound of the keys she held fading as she disappeared over the horizon.

Wolf watched until her small black silhouette disappeared out of sight, before he heard a clanking sound behind him. He whirled his head around to see more SharpClaw gather behind the first one, armed with scimitars and spears, edging dangerously close.

The SharpClaw circled from a safe distance, cautiously holding their weapons as they watched Wolf's expression, prepared for any attack he would throw at them. Being Elites, they were well-rehearsed with the combat tactics of the warm-bloods that they had crossed blades with on several occasions. This was the critical moment in which he would make the first strike...a running charge, a whirling swing, an evasive ground-roll...something to ignite the battle, and make his first mark on the enemy.

But he didn't look like he was concentrating on the battle at all...his eyes kept darting around frantically, as if scanning the area for any means of escape. Combined with the ragged and pitiful appearance he had already, his tense and nervous expression made him look like a trapped animal.

The first SharpClaw took a few steps forward, jabbing his knife out like a cattle prod, as if to goad the first attack out of Wolf first.

Pfft!

He arched his back cautiously, his knife shooting up on reflex at the sudden blur of movement, before he lowered it with surprise.

Wolf made the first move...but it wasn't a strike. He kicked his feet against the ground, sand flying from the stomping motion of his heel, as he bolted for the first clearing through the crowd of gathering SharpClaw, and ran away. He didn't even stop to look at the SharpClaw when he passed them...he just took off, scurrying away as fast as he could.

The SharpClaw stood aside each other for a moment, watching him run. They all smiled brutishly, stifling laughs and jeers of baffled amusement.

They all knew that Wolf would do something to counter the obvious outnumbering factor between them...but this? This was just sad...

The first SharpClaw let out a spiteful laugh.

"Tch...'Hold them off', my ass. Look at him run, like the scum-ridden coward he is! He knows he doesn't stand a chance against us!"

"Don't underestimate him too much." Everyone turned to see the Lead Yellow Elite standing behind them. "Don't let yourselves forget that it was he who planted that mark in Drakon's face, not to mention outwitted him the first time. I haven't seen that kind of fear in his eyes before...and it must be for a reason, no matter how weak he looks. But he's not heading in the direction of the gates...so we can cut him off quickly. Just don't waste time toying with him...end him quickly."

The SharpClaw scoffed under their breath before charging after Wolf, scraping the ground with their raptor-like feet as they carried them across the sands at a surprisngly-fast rate.

The Yellow Lead snapped his fingers, gesturing to the remaining SharpClaw standing near him. "Those of you with spears...head to the front, and try to pin him down if he gets too far!"

The SharpClaw slung their spears off their backs and sprinted ahead with the others.

Wolf's ears perked as he heard the distorted echo of the Lead SharpClaw's voice from behind, his senses tingling at the word "spears."

He sucked in some breath and kicked some energy into his legs, forcing them to go faster. His bare feet left clawed tracks in the baking sand, each stomp in the ground sending a puff of dust around them as he ran. The hot air stared to become thin and non-breathable as he went faster and got more tired, the muffled sound of his heavy panting clogging his ears.

Large masses of crumbled rock passed him as he went by, but these were too far from the original site...indicating spots where new chunks of exploded debris had fallen. Most of them didn't block or surround the path he was running, but that didn't guarantee the absence of those sizes of debris in the area. The stone wall masses were still present...that was a good enough indicator.

This isn't far enough...He thought to himself. I have to get farther!

He kept his ears alert for the sound of the SharpClaw's feet behind him, tensing for when the pit-pattering noises grew louder or fainter.

Suddenly, his heart leapt as he heard the noise not only come from right behind him, but from the left and right sides as well.

Shit!

They aren't running in single-file anymore...they're smarter than that...

They've broken up into groups...hunting in packs...

Then, he heard a voice ring from a dangerously close distance from behind.

"He's in range! Haikon!"

"I've got 'im!" A voice answered, and he heard a whooshing sound.

Wolf froze.

After having his ears split from the cracking sound of the Adder Tongues, he had the whooshing sound that echoed before a whip's signature crack etched in his mind. And this wasn't the same sound...

It made more of a whistling sound...like a shaft of wood...

Shaft of-?

Then, his eyes widened. He had just enough time to fling himself down into a hasty duck, dodging the long, approaching shadow that whirled behind him.

He was quick to respond...but not quick enough.

There was an intense force in the air that cut through the atmosphere like a fierce wind, as the flying spear whistled over Wolf's shoulder, grazing the pointed fur on his cheek. The flint tip tore into the bandaged surface of his shoulder, tearing off a piece of blood-stained cloth and ripping a gash into one of his recovering scars.

"GARGH!"

Wolf yelled as the force of the spear's traveling speed hurled him forward, his feet skidding uncontrollably over the sandy ground by the toes. He staggered over his jumbled feet and lost balance, falling over with an uncomfortable thud.

Clump!

The hot grains of sand washed over his body like tiny, scalding pieces of glass, as he coughed and cursed under his breath. He shook the sand off him and brushed it off his tail. Nothing could ever make him used to this stupid, uncomfortable sand...even the blistering, rocky cliffs of Venom weren't as bad as this.

Then, his hands, planted in the ground to hoist himself up, felt the vibration of incoming foot-stomping. Soon, the air was filled with clamoring voices. He turned with a startled jolt to see that the SharpClaw were only a few feet away, running steadily towards him.

"He's down! Get him!"

Wolf quickly rummaged through the sand and grabbed his Claw, rushing to his feet to counter the closest SharpClaw that was closing in on him.

The SharpClaw drew his scimitar and swung it down on Wolf.

"Huah!"

TRT-IIING!

Wolf brought his Claw up, the scimitar's curved edge knifing into the blade. The crushing weight of the SharpClaw rattled the bones in Wolf's wrist as he tried to drive him back.

The SharpClaw grinned as he drew his blade back and started to swing it rapidly. Wolf's eyes widened as the scimitar's shape became a gleaming blur in his sun-stricken eyes.

Swa-TANG!

Cling!

Shhrrr-AAANG!

The savage blows rained down on Wolf as he desperately tried to bring his Claw up to block them, each blow shattering and shaking the handle in his trembling hands. The sweeping length and massive muscle behind each swing caused Wolf's hands to become numb trying to block them. Stifled panting escaped his mouth as his guard started to weaken, his feet stumbling back as each strike mashed against his blade and forced him to stagger back.

His canine muscles that had shrunk at an unhealthy rate over the past few days, were barely keeping up with the powerful blows of the SharpClaw's swings.

The SharpClaw's grin widened at the sight of his opponent struggling, and dove in closer to snatch the advantage. He stabbed his scimitar in, causing Wolf swipe his Claw up vertically and let the blow scrape horizontally against the battered edge of his blade.

Then, the SharpClaw twisted his wrist and knocked the Claw aside.

Wolf grunted through clenched teeth, his eyes widening as the scimitar jabbed inches past his face and slicing down at his already gashed shoulder.

Slltrch!

"ARGH!"

Wolf staggered back and clasped his shoulder, blood seeping from out of the stinging, reopened wound and through the cracks of his fingers. As he seethed on his knees, the SharpClaw standing over him laughed boomingly.

"HA! What's the matter, canine? Too slow to keep up?"

He drew his clawed foot up and aimed a kick at Wolf's back.

Slam!

The massive foot smashed into Wolf's rigid spine, throwing him off balance and into the ground. The familiar throbbing feeling from the bulging bruise made him remember the tremendous kicks Drakon dealt to him. The painful nostalgia of a reptilian kick only lasted for a brief second, before being interrupted by the abrupt slam of the ground colliding with his battered stomach.

CLUMP!

Spitting sand and blood from his mouth, Wolf groaned as the jeering voice of the SharpClaw rang over his head.

"Pah...I don't understand you, slave. One minute, you're standing in triumph with the mark of your fist in Drakon's face...and now, you're groveling on the ground like a mutt who can't even take a hit!"

Wolf's ears twitched at the sound of steel rushing through the air, descending into a plunge. Exhaling quickly, he dropped to his back and rolled over, the SharpClaw's scimitar plunging its point into the spot where he had briefly huddled. Sand and rock sprayed from the intensity of the stab, causing dust to dive down Wolf's throat and make him cough.

The SharpClaw cursed and wrenched his sword out of the ground, whirling his head around to see where Wolf had rolled behind him.

Wolf narrowed his eyes, watching the speed in which it took the Elite to turn his neck...before-

KRRK!

Wolf aimed his foot at the SharpClaw's exposed ankle, clawing it and causing him to stumble with a roar of rage. Snatching up his Claw, he heaved himself up and rushed past him, taking off into another run.

The SharpClaw, clutching his bleeding ankle, raised his blade and bellowed after him.

"BASTARD! Come back here, and fight like a man!"

But Wolf didn't stay behind long enough to grant him a smart retort. He just kept running, wincing but determined to ignore the open wound on his shoulder, and not letting himself lose speed for a moment.

The other SharpClaw sprinted past the one on the ground, and the Yellow Leader stopped.

"You, on the ground! Did you wound him?"

The SharpClaw hoisted himself up on his scimitar with a grunt. "Barely. Not enough to slow him down."

The Yellow Elite glanced back at the small black dot running in the distance, pursued relentlessly by groups of SharpClaw.

"Where the hell does he think he's going? There's nothing out there but tents and discarded equipment...and it's in the complete opposite of the gate. What's he going to do? Jump over the stronghold wall?"

"He didn't put up much of a fight, either," The other SharpClaw said, sheathing his scimitar. "I fought for a decent amount of time to get used to the speed of his arm...and he barely blocked any of my attacks. I wasn't even trying too hard, and he could barely keep up with me swinging at him. His reflexes were sluggish and too awkward to even defend himself. He's a weakling!"

"A very inconsistent slave, this one," The Yellow Elite remarked tartly. "Maybe he's only capable of performing miracles and looking strong once. It appears I overestimated his strength...but never mind. Keep going!"

As the both of them kept running to catch up with the pursuing SharpClaw, all of them shared the same confused thoughts.

Where was this slave going, if he had no means of escape? Why wasn't he standing his ground and fighting back? Why did he prove to be on par with Drakon, but not with a group of subordinates like them?

This coward of a slave was bewildering them more and more...even if he was destined to die...

A few tiresome yards ahead...

Wolf skidded to a halt next to a small pile of charred, stone wall-fragments, and caught his breath. Sweat poured down his neck and back like a lukewarm, irritating shower of damp discomfort. The heat had made the air he sucked into his panting mouth heavy and unbearable, and the sun was already shedding its scalding haze down on him.

He looked up groggily, seeing the blurry shapes of approaching SharpClaw coming up fast.

Rubbing his eyes and swiping sweat off his matted-furred brow, he dashed past the wall of debris. Drawing his Claw and gripping it tightly, he slammed the butt of the handle against the weakened structure.

KRACK.

The ashy and chipped bricks sunk in on themselves from the sudden rupture on the bottom, and the low wall came down behind Wolf in a heap of dust and rock, blocking off the path of the SharpClaw to buy him some time to get ahead.

Letting out a sigh of relief, he turned to resume his run.

But as he let his weary legs gradually pick up speed at their own comfort, he gazed up at the area that lay ahead.

The landscape that spread out before him in the confines of the fortress walls, their dark, rising shape visible on the horizon, was completely empty. It was the one part of the Slave Yard that served no purpose in gathering ore for the temple or serving as grounds for tents or other shelter. There were no heaps of debris here, none that blocked off any areas that could be used for evasive sprinting or retreating...no walls of wreckage to confine the movement of any who tread there.

Nothing but flat, low land, with little more than heaps of desert sand and withering cracks in the dead ground. The only sound to be caught by the eardrums of any individual was the ghostly whisper of a frail zephyr blowing across the lifeless ground.

Wolf let out a breath of relief. He had made it.

Shh-THNK!

Suddenly, the tranquility of utter silence was shattered by the whistling sound of a spear shaft plummeting into the ground, just inches from Wolf's foot.

Fur spiking up in a startled manner, he whirled around to see dozens of SharpClaw in the distance, pouring like rats out of a smashed-open hole in the wall he had closed off. Wolf drew his Claw back and took a few scrambling steps backwards, eyes locking on each of the SharpClaw as they emerged through the dust-draped hole.

Shh-THNK!

Wolf's heart leapt at the sound of another spear plunging into the ground near his feet. He turned to see two more groups of SharpClaw approach from the south, grinning and snarling as they flourished their pikes and whips.

His eyes darted from one group of SharpClaw, to the next, to the batch behind him, as they started to spread out and drew nearer. They weren't cluttered into groups anymore, and were starting to march forward side-by-side.

Wolf kept on stepping back, his head turning from group to group as he watched the figures of SharpClaw drown out any visible openings or escape routes from his vision. The echoing tremor of numerous raptor-clawed feet simultaneously edging nearer began to shake the ground, as the Elites started to form a massive circle around Wolf. They dragged the pole-butts of their pikes in the sand, running their claws against their swords, and cracking their whips to create a sense of intimidation for their prey.

Wolf stood a small, lone black silhouette as the SharpClaw surrounded him from afar, the massive ring of soldiers around him becoming smaller and closer together as they drew nearer.

His Claw gleamed brightly with a false hope of defense in his hand, and he bit back an uncomfortable wince at the stinging cut on his shoulder. His eyes traveled around slowly, a cold feeling of uneasiness creeping up his insides as he watched all hopes for escape get trampled under the gathering feet of SharpClaw.

Finally, after they were a few feet away, close enough to charge forward and slash him to pieces, a voice echoed from behind the surrounding wall of SharpClaw.

"You've led us on a fine chase, slave. But now, you have nowhere to scurry to, and no walls of stone to scurry behind."

Wolf turned to see the Yellow Elite, the one he had seen Drakon order to lead the dispatched unit of SharpClaw, approach through a wall of soldiers that stepped aside and cleared his path.

The Leader gripped the pike he carried and dropped it to his shoulder, eyeing Wolf with bored eyes. "I still don't see what Drakon sees in you as a threat. You aren't dangerous at all. Sure, you might have displayed some fighting ability with that punch earlier, but other than that, you don't seem good for anything other than running and hiding like a sniveling coward. But I guess that's the fearful side-effect of being broken by the Adder Tongues..."

A ripple of laughter echoed from all sides of the SharpClaw crowd.

Wolf bared his teeth and clenched his Claw tightly, but forced himself to remain rooted on the spot and control his anger. It wasn't time yet...

"Whatever, then," The Elite continued. "I've got my orders to kill you and take your skin. But I can still make it quick and painless if you just throw down your weapon and surrender."

The sand crunched under Wolf's feet as he dug them into the ground, reinforcing his position. His expression was blank and free of any emotion...fearful, tense, or angry...just blank. No words came from his mouth, and no clear answer shone in his eyes.

Swa-SHING!

SKRRRRRRR...

Then, Wolf unsheathed his claws and dragged them against the surface of his blade, raking its gleaming surface till sparks poured off of them, before pointing it in the Leader's direction.

Not a word was exchanged between the SharpClaw, but they could all tell what the gesture meant...a threatening challenge, daring the Yellow Elite to come forward.

The Elite sneered, almost in an eager manner than a lazy one. "Fine, then. I restrained both myself and my men from toying with you out of fear that you might escape in the process...but seeing as you're surrounded, I don't see why I can't deny you the pain and humiliation of single combat."

Pfft!

Shing!

He planted the shaft of his pike into the sand, and drew the machete that hung in a Rabbit-fur scabbard on his waist. He began to march forward.

"Drakon ordered me to make your agonized screams loud and long...and so I will obey. But since you're outmatched in rank, species, skill, and stature of health..." He smiled cruelly at the wound on Wolf's shoulder. "...I'll let you have the first attack. Then you can be cut to pieces, at least knowing you tried to defend yourself."

Another ripple of spiteful laughter echoed from across the crowd of SharpClaw, a little louder this time.

He whirled his machete in the air near his head, listening for the hum of the blade's swing to get into the vibe of battle. "Well, go on then. Make your move...you'll need it."

The sun boiled the rasped air that hung over the sandy field, causing the air above the SharpClaw in the distance to ripple in Wolf's vision. Sand crunched under his feet as he reinforced his position, and every SharpClaw watching turned to him, as if waiting in anticipation for him to attack.

But no sound of feet scraping the ground came. No battle-yell or roar shattered the silence. No attack came.

...and Wolf didn't move. He remained where he was.

The Leader spat in the sand and raised his machete. "Fine. You had your chance."

Pfft!

He kicked his reptilian feet against the sand (sending a flurry of dust and grains into the unfortunate SharpClaw bystanders' faces) and charged at Wolf, hurling his machete.

CLANG!

The long blade slammed against Wolf's Claw, causing his arms to jerk at the sudden impact. The Elite snarled as he shoved against the blade with his superior weight, and made Wolf stumble back slightly. He grunted slightly as he blocked the incoming slashes with slow reflex, and the SharpClaw pounded on his blade even harder.

Wolf haunched his shoulders and breathed heavily, making it look like he was struggling to keep up with the Elite's attacks...just like he had done with the other one before...

Shrr-iiiing!

TANG!

He shook after each attack, lowering his guard slightly. The Elite stabbed at each opening, before Wolf flung up his hand and blocked the strike with his Claw, widening his eyes fearfully each time.

The SharpClaw watching laughed as they watched the pathetic battle ensue, unaware of what Wolf was really doing...or where his gaze was...

Every now and then, when he would lower his guard, his eyes would lock on to the Leader's wrist and watch how fast he could stab...and which weak points in Wolf's lowered defense he would go after...

But everyone, the Yellow Elite himself included, was so caught up in jeering at him that they didn't notice at all.

"HA! What is this speed you're going at...this rigid stance? It's almost like I'm fighting a child wielding a weapon that's too big for his hands!" The Leader laughed, swinging his machete down with brutal force.

Wolf, seeing the glinting blur of the machete swing down into a dangerous chop, raised his Claw up just in time.

Shrra-KLAAAANG!

The two blades smashed against each other, the steel rattling as they were locked in a colliding encounter, sparks rolling off the edge like spontaneous, fiery rain.

Wolf panted heavily as he shakily maintained a steady grip on his Claw, preventing the machete from pressing any harder against it and graze its curved edge against his cheek.

The Elite sneered over him as he held his machete with one hand. "Pfft...wow. This kind of disappointment wasn't what I was expecting at all. I mean, I knew you were slow, my men kept me well-informed of that...but I didn't think your fighting skills were this unrefined and sluggish. Your speed and technique is pathetic!" The ringing of simultaneous laughter echoed from all sides of their fight, but it wasn't loud enough to drown out the taunting voice of the Elite. "You can't land a single hit on me. You're not even fast enough to block a few measly, ill-timed attacks!"

Wolf clenched his teeth as he struggled under the rattling weight of the SharpClaw. His fingers were already starting to give out-

Shaaaang!

The SharpClaw swung his machete back, forcing Wolf to stagger back and have his Claw-gripping hand be swerved aside...leaving him open.

The Elite sneered as he dove forward, drawing his arm back for the final swipe. "Tch...Drakon was right about you. You are as weak as they come..."

Wolf kept his face fixed in that startled, defenseless state of shock that the SharpClaw were probably used to by now, his fur spiking up in terror-

...before his expression changed entirely. His widened eyes slimmed back into their moody, unimpressed, dangerous state. His eyebrows knitted together and his face resumed his intense, merciless and brooding scowl.

Alright...enough's enough...it's time to drop the act...

Then, all time seemed to slow down, in a viscous and blurry fashion.

Right as the machete swung over near Wolf's neck, he bent his knee and arched his back into a blurringly-fast duck. As the blade hummed while it hacked through the air right above Wolf's head, the SharpClaw's sneer melted slowly into a staunched look of huge-eyed disbelief. His lips didn't move fast enough to utter words or even a breath of shock, but his reptilian eyes, now reduced to thinned, startled slits, seemed to speak on their own: WHAT-?

The duck was timed so perfectly and fluidly, that Wolf seemed to move less like a man and more like running water or a swift gale. He drew his foot back to keep his stance stable, his heel kicking up a billowing gust of sand from the ground.

As watching SharpClaw slowly opened their mouths into a gape of shock, their eyes blinking blurrily to keep up with Wolf's blazing movement, they squinted at the flashing gleam of the sun reflecting off his Claw.

All of them were speechless and caught in the confusing aftermath of the rush of events, but they were all thinking the same thing:

How the hell did he get so fast?

When the SharpClaw's blade had swung too far to the side in a heaving miss, Wolf ascended from his dive with rapid speed, tossing his Claw from his left hand to his right.

His left hand to his right...

The Elite's eyes widened. He's been holding his blade in his left hand the whole time?

In truth, the entirety of the last ten minutes of Wolf running and stopping now and then to counter a few SharpClaw attacks with poor skill, had been nothing more than an analysis run.

With the encounters he had with the SharpClaw, he had analyzed every attack pattern they had. But he knew from the start that he couldn't study the SharpClaw in a stand-alone battle...it would take too long, and heighten the risk of him being cut down. The only way he could analyze them without putting himself at risk was to engage them from afar...in the form of a pursuit.

As he had been running, he developed a strategy: use his speed to dominate his strength.

He knew for a fact that these SharpClaw were a powerful species...equipped with a larger skeleton, muscles and an overall-superior metabolism. But they were slow...clunky, and had to lumber everywhere under the burden of armor. They weren't fast enough to keep up with a faster set of reflexes or agility...and that was their true Achilles heel.

But he couldn't use that tactical advantage in the cluttered, closed up, tightened atmosphere of the wrecked wall. There was too much debris and heaps of rock, not enough room to move about. Taking on the SharpClaw in a place like that would be like confronting a group of Wrestling champions in an alley-way...they'd crush his bones before he could do one somersault.

No...He needed a place that was wide-open, and broad...a place where he could sprint and leap in any directions without being confined...a place where the SharpClaw couldn't keep up with him, and would have to trail his movements in their heavy armor...

...a place like the one which they were standing on now.

Wolf hadn't led them on a chase to escape anywhere...he was drawing them out to a different location.

But beyond using his speed, the proper environment, and a strategical analysis to help him, Wolf needed one more element to turn the battle to his favor...

The element of surprise.

If he had been using his actual speed and skill the entire time, the SharpClaw, being the cunning and adaptable fighters that they were, would get too used to his fighting style and overwhelm him quickly. So he had to build their confidence that he was slow and sluggish. Appear desperate, take an easily-avoidable hit with a spear, and barely block their attacks...

...and they bought it perfectly.

That's when the Yellow Elite himself realized the trap Wolf had drawn him into. He had been faking his speed the entire time...and holding his weapon in his left hand, too. He had pretended to be slower and more sluggish to conceal his actual speed and reflexes, and made the cunning Elites get used to a completely fake set of reflexes and blocks. He had even wielded his Claw in his left hand, the hand he neglected for his dominant one, to make the inferior fighting style seem more convincing...

The SharpClaw couldn't believe it.

Shit...the bastard set me up! He set us ALL up!

But it was too late.

Because the second Wolf reached full-height from his duck, and the Claw landed in his right hand, his speed and attitude completely changed.

Hur-hwing!

Without a shout or yell of rage, Wolf bolted at his opponent with catlike speed, slashing his blade at him with timed and carefully-aimed cuts. The SharpClaw, eyes still huge and slowly igniting in the aftermath of his own shock, dashed back just in time before the razor-sharp point could etch a close gash into his snout.

SHING! Hwing! CLANG! SHING! Hwing! CLANG! SHING! Hwing! CLANG!

The Yellow Elite brought his machete up, just barely catching each blow with a block. But from his perspective, the slashes, too many and to quick to gaze upon individually, that Wolf dealt went so blurringly fast and at such a blazing rate, that his hand looked like a collection of gleaming, hurtling slashes that rained down on his quaking machete like a storm of steel.

Each blow was more quickly and blurring than the last, cutting the air before it could hum against the blade with a rushing ring. The SharpClaw, breathing heavily and grunting with effort, staggered back with his clawed feet scraping the sand...as he struggled under the immense force of the blows.

And between each blurring strike, he caught of the terrifying face behind it. Wolf's snarl drew his mouth into a cold-blooded baring of his teeth, a massive shadow draping...illuminating his nightmarish expression every other second by the flashing, colliding sparks that rained off the edges of their blades.

The SharpClaw's hands shook, and it had nothing to do with the rattling of the Claw hammering against it. And he didn't understand why...

He was an Elite...a SharpClaw, who could dye his scales crimson with the blood of the hundreds of warm-bloods he had killed...a slaughterer, a warrior of a relentless species...

So why...why was he terrified of one solitary, ragged, outmatched, outnumbered slave of an inferior species...that was broken by the Adder Tongues and with more bandages than fur?

Shrr-TIIIING!

Wolf knocked the blade aside with such extreme force and speed, that sparks poured of some brutally-carved chips in the edge of the SharpClaw machete. The SharpClaw arched forward and swung down with his machete, attempting to aim a wounding slice into his opponent's shoulder.

Pfft!

Reacting with slick reflex, Wolf side-stepped nimbly, his eyes traveling to the SharpClaw's feet...and watching how they struggled under the sudden movement of their owner's heavy and armored torso. Whirling out of the attack's reach and swinging his Claw up, he recited the results of his long analysis in his head...

First...these SharpClaw possess a superior physical build...so I can't hope to crack their bones with a simple head-butt or wrist-grab...

CLANG!

The SharpClaw swung his blade horizontally, twisting his wrist in an attempt to catch Wolf off-guard with fast recovery-time. Wolf's eyes widened for a second before he caught the strike with a hasty block.

Second...they twist their wrist while swinging to change their attack direction on an instant, and tend to aim their attacks at the neck, face, shoulders, ribs and back when facing enemies...

"Huagh!"

He growled as he grabbed his Claw with both hands and shoved against the machete with his own blade, causing the SharpClaw to draw back his sword-arm.

Wolf snarled and dove under the SharpClaw's backwards-swerving arm, cranking his neck, and twisting his feet and spine simultaneously as he swung his body into a blurring, evasive spin behind the Elite's back.

The SharpClaw whirled his head around with a roar of rage, but was too late.

Third...they suffer from a rigid neck-structure...which means that they can't turn their heads fast enough to keep their eyes on faster attacks or movements...

Taking advantage of the Elite's sluggish turn, Wolf drew his foot from the scraping sand and aimed a swerving kick at the SharpClaw's heels.

The Yellow Elite let out a grunt as he staggered back, his balance giving into the sudden strike at his legs.

As he fell slowly, Wolf bolted forward, claws out.

And finally...

...even though their thick hides protect most of their body from deep or otherwise fatal cuts...there appears to be less fortified sections of weaker skin on their feet, shoulders, stomachs, necks...

His hand shot out and grabbed the SharpClaw by the face, whose eyes widened between the cracks of Wolf's fingers.

...and face.

SLAM!

Wolf planted the SharpClaw's face in the cracked, dusty ground, causing the sand around the ground-collision to ripple from the impact, the grains splitting around his face. The machete toppled from his grip and plunged itself into the mound of sand, and his legs kicked around uselessly.

Slrrtch!

The SharpClaw latched his clawed hands around Wolf's arm, digging his claws into his fur and ripping at the bandages once-bound bandages. Wolf winced as the deep claw-marks raked his skin, his grip on the SharpClaw shaking, before he drew his Claw back...the sunlight glinting off its spark-blackened edge...and plunged down.

SLRRRTTCHHH!

The SharpClaw's reptilian eyes became huge and slitted...before they stopped moving entirely. The clawed hands around Wolf's arms slackened limply, their talons still embedded in his fur and shredded bandages.

None of the watching SharpClaw spoke. Most of them were still finishing blinking, and trying to process the rapid onslaught of events that just occurred. The rest just stared with huge, bulging eyes...the shock sinking into them.

Wolf swiped the limp arm aside, flinching slightly as blood trickled down his arm. Curling his fingers around the plunged Claw to yank it out, his ears perked at a sudden echoing noise.

"He...He killed the Lieutenant!"

"We can't let him escape! KILL HIM!"

Wolf whirled around to see the circling group of SharpClaw charge forward, the armor on the Yellow Leader's corpse rattling and sand rumbling from the pounding of numerous sprinting feet.

He quickly snatched his Claw from the corpse, but not quickly enough to get to his feet to engage the first SharpClaw that towered over him.

SHING!

The SharpClaw bought the shaft of his spear down on Wolf's unprotected neck, right as he brought his Claw up behind his neck. The two weapons smashed against each other in a shower of sparks, Wolf's fingers quaking as he struggled under the burdensome weight of the SharpClaw.

As his shoulders started to feel numb from strain, he looked up with a shaky grunt to see a line of SharpClaw charge at him from the front, to take advantage of him while he was still on his knees.

Despite his struggling effort, Wolf let out a strained sneer.

Tch...no honorable warriors among these scum...

Fine...if it's a fight they want...

...then I'll give them a slaughter...

SHRRR-IIING!

He jerked forward on the handle of his blade, causing the spear-shaft of the agonizingly-heavy SharpClaw to slide off without warning and cause his unsupported weight to pull him down into a fall. Wolf dashed backwards, his back slamming into the unguarded portion of the Elite's stomach and swung his Claw behind him.

Slrrtch!

Black blood sprayed from the gash in the SharpClaw's belly, causing him to fall to his knees.

The group of SharpClaw charging towards him, now closer than before when he was on his knees, drew their knives and whips when they were an arms-length from his back.

Wolf swept his Claw back to his side and ran forward, kicking his feet off the ground and planting his foot on the shoulder of the wounded SharpClaw in front of him.

SLAM!

The SharpClaw stopped snarling and growling, their quarrelsome faces melting into jaw-dropped expressions of disbelief, as Wolf kicked his foot off of the wounded Elite's shoulder with enough impact to launch him backwards into the air. Spinning his body and twisting his spine with swift agility while in mid-air, Wolf's shape became a shadowy silhouette against the sun-stricken sky, soaring above the SharpClaw's heads.

The SharpClaw in the back of the group widened his eyes as the black shape of Wolf's body rushed closer, until his vision was blinded by the wicked gleam of Wolf's arm swinging down on him.

SLRRT-TTTCH!

SLAM!

Wolf landed on the ground, hand planted on the sandy surface with his back bent, his feet smashing into the ground and sending sand up around him like a spray of water, his fur rippling blurrily like waves. There was a sickening thud behind him as the SharpClaw's body slumped over into the ground, his head collapsing off of the cleaved sinew of his severed neck and landing in the damp, blackened sand.

There was a clamoring of steel and whip-cracking from the crowd of SharpClaw in the distance, who roared angrily to conceal the terror in their voices and shook their weapons to visually camoflage their shaking hands.

Wolf, still kneeling in his landing position, turned his head with a growl to face them from the side, so only the left side of his face was visible...the side with the ominous, tattered eye-patch and the lines on his face from an intense scowl.

Shwa-SHING!

Suddenly, the ring of a blade caused Wolf to whirl his head around just in time to see the gleaming machete of a SharpClaw, who had managed to sneak up behind him by making less noise in the sand with his huge, clawed feet.

Reacting with hasty, barely-timed reflex, Wolf threw up his Claw behind him, stopping the blade's plunge from piercing the back of his head. But the swerving blade-point dove past his face in the rigid block, grazing Wolf's cheek with its serrated edge.

"Gngh!"

Grunting through clenched teeth from the splitting sting on his cheek, Wolf twisted his nimble wrist around the SharpClaw's thicker one, slicing at his fingers.

Slrttch!

"GARGH!"

The machete dropped from the SharpClaw's hand from a clatter as he clutched his slitted fingers, black blood seeping through the cracks of his quivering fist. He swung his clawed foot out and aimed a swerving kick at Wolf's legs.

Wolf kicked his feet off the ground and swung himself backwards into a somersault, his opponent's kick sweeping the empty space where his feet used to be. As his body descended and the ground rushed towards him, Wolf threw out his hand.

PFFT!

Wolf sucked his breath in as landed on the palm of his hand. Then, with acrobatic versatility, he spread his feet out into a split and swung them, spinning on his ground-planted hand.

KRRTCH-PRRNT-WHAM!

Wolf's kicks slammed against the SharpClaw's face while he spun his body on his stably-planted arm rapidly, causing his feet to whirl in mid-air like helicopter blades. The pulsing kicks rammed into the SharpClaw's snout, causing blood to spray from his battered nostrils and bludgeoned jaw.

The SharpClaw staggered back, dazedly clutching his face with his bleeding hands. Wolf landed on his feet and aimed a blazing punch to his already-bent snout.

"Haaagh!"

WHU-PRRRTCH!

His immense punch collided with the SharpClaw's face, causing a few chipped fangs to fly from his bleeding mouth. He gagged and opened his mouth slightly-

Wolf didn't waste any time...he knew a weak spot when he saw one. He grabbed his Claw with both hands and plunged it into the SharpClaw's mouth with blurring speed.

PLRRTCH!

The Claw tore through the SharpClaw's mouth and ripped out from the back of his head, causing Wolf's hands to enter the inside of his fanged mouth to drive it in. The SharpClaw's eyes bulged as he gagged and spluttered, before falling limp, hanging on Wolf's claw by his impaled mouth.

Shing!

Wolf drew his Claw out like an unsheathed blade, and the bludgeoned and impaled corpse collapsed into the dampened sand.

The SharpClaw standing from afar, looked at the bleeding corpse of their comrade and back to the panting slave that stood over it, thinking the same thing: Who was this guy, and what hellish pit did he crawl out of?

PRRSH!

Swinging his Claw back to spray the black blood off its stainless-steel surface, Wolf kicked his feet into the sandy ground. In an instant, his feet rapidly sprinted across the ground, sand pelting the air where he sped by, as he lowered his back and gnashed his fangs into a teeth-bared snarl, charging headfirst into the group of SharpClaw.

The SharpClaw drew their weapons and charged forward, the ones with whips running to the front.

Wolf drew his Claw near his face, his malice-filled eyes glowering over the gleaming borderline of his Claw's edge, ready for the first strike.

SHWOO-PAKKK!

The thick chord of a whip lashed out at Wolf's face, riveting and swooping just an inch in front of his face before he ducked into a quick roll. Arching back up from the quick maneuver, his hand shout out and grabbed at the whip's knotted end.

Shwrrsh-whrrsh!

The whip coiled around Wolf's arm as he clutched it tightly and yanked back on it, snatching the SharpClaw holding the other end forward...

...only to be greeted by the blinding, shadowy shape of Wolf's fist drowning out his vision when he was pulled close enough.

SLAM!

The SharpClaw's snout made a crunching sound as he staggered back, dropping his end of the whip dazedly. Wolf flung the whip aside and dashed forward for the kill, but the SharpClaw, taking advantage of his close range, threw his hand to a katara dagger sheathed on his chest-belt.

Sltrrtch!

Drawing the leaf-bladed dagger rapidly and slicing upward with it, the SharpClaw landed a stinging slash on Wolf's unprotected arm. Wolf seethed through his teeth but didn't sacrifice his stance to clutch his arm...Instead, he spun his Claw in hand and smashed the butt against the SharpClaw's already-broken snout, causing blood to gush from one of his slitted nostrils.

Wolf grabbed his shoulder, sinking his claws into it, kicked his feet off the ground and vaulted himself up into a somersault over him, before landing behind him on his feet like a cat.

He shot his hand out and delivered a swift chop to the SharpClaw's shoulder, numbing him dazed. Wolf then pounced forward and lashed his arm around his bigger opponent's neck, forcing him to a painful, expert grapple. Pressing his Claw against his neck, he darted his eyes at the other SharpClaw standing nearby, daring any one of them to attack next.

SHRR-IIING!

Wolf timed his next set of movements so blazingly quickly, so that none of the slow or bulky SharpClaw could keep up with his speed. He first aimed a kick to the back of the struggling SharpClaw's knee, stunning him slightly. He then grabbed the handle of his Claw, still hooked around the Elite's neck, and swung it so that it unlatched itself from his neck...slitting his throat in the process.

"Krr-aaachh -blll-!"

The SharpClaw let out a final, sickening gag before his limp body swung into the nearest SharpClaw, his split-open neck exploding with black blood on impact. The blood sprayed on the other horrified SharpClaw's face, causing him to push the body off and scream in disgust.

Wolf didn't waste the opportunity. He dove forward and ducked into another quick ground-roll, slipping quickly and nimbly between the corpse's outstretched legs while it was still falling to the ground.

As the body hit the ground behind him with a thud, Wolf emerged from his rolling position in front of the blood-splattered SharpClaw's feet, and flung his Claw up at his face.

Hwing!

The blade spun in the air past the SharpClaw's snout and over his head, causing him to flinch and swing his blade on natural reflex and instinct. But by swinging his weapon to the side, he had left his body unguarded and completely open for attacks for a brief second.

Wolf leapt up, and time seemed to churn through a slow viscosity in the heat of battle, the Claw hurling back down from its spot in mid-air. He shot his hands out, but didn't curl them into a fist or unsheathe his claws, or make any counter-offensive maneuver...

Instead, he arched his back, ducking the swinging scimitar as it cleaved over his head, and broadened his hands into stiff, jabs.

Thwat! Krrt-krrt-krrt...KRWATT!

Moving his hands at such a blurring rate that observing SharpClaw from afar could barely catch the strikes without blinking in time, Wolf stabbed the rapidly-forceful ends of his tightened fingers into the area above his opponent's shins, elbow joints, and shoulders...

...his pressure points.

Wolf moved his jabs so quickly that they struck the pressure points like a hailstorm of bullets. The SharpClaw's muscles twitched rigidly and his knees buckled, searing stiffness gripping the nerves of his body like molten nails. He hunched his back over, gagging slightly, before Wolf whirled around him and swung his hand down with blazing force onto his collar-bone.

"GAGH!"

The SharpClaw gasped in pain, his eyes bulging as his immobilized body dropped him to his knees. Wolf drew up to full height and held out his hand.

Cling!

The Claw landed in Wolf's hand from its mid-air fall, and he gripped it with both hands before drawing it back for the final slash.

"HAAAH!"

SLRRRTCH!

Wolf swung his Claw against the SharpClaw's stomach before his paralyzed body could hit the ground, making him collapse in a bloody heap.

The watching SharpClaw opened their eyes from their dazed blinking, their gazes becoming huge as they traveled from the bleeding corpse to the shadowy figure standing over it. All they had, or could witness with their naked eyes was the glimpse of Wolf throwing his Claw up in the air, doing something blurrily with his hands for a brief second, and catch it in time to cut his enemy down. Their jaws dropped in confounded astonishment. Nobody believed what had just happened, while some were still processing just what happened. It had all happened too fast...Wolf made it happen all too fast.

Snatching his Claw from the slashed body, Wolf heaved himself up, starting to feel the exhaustion of battle. The sun's furious rays flung themselves relentlessly at his newly-opened wounds, while his patched ones started to ache from so much movement. But he swiped the sweat off his brow, determined to ignore such small obstacles, like pain, or exhaustion...or risk of death.

None of those things stood in his way before...only his own discouragement had.

Cracking his neck and drawing his foot back, he drew his Claw up into a panting fighting stance, ready for the next wave.

But before the SharpClaw could shake off their shock and confront him, all of them stopped at the blare of a sudden noise.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

Wolf's ears perked up, recognizing that sound after hearing it once.

Damn...those slaves aren't going easy on those explosives...

The SharpClaw looked up at the sky, scanning it cautiously for any flying debris. Previous experience, along with seeing their own comrades crushed, was enough to make them cautious of any flaming debris.

Then, a shadow passed over the ground under Wolf's feet, as something soared over his head, its dark imprint growing in size on the ground as it fell closer. His eyes grew huge with alarm as he dove to the side frantically, not hesitating to stand in dazed fear at whatever chunk of stone that would come crashing down.

PFFFFFFT!

Something large and flaming came down...but it was nowhere near the size of the wall that had crashed down on them last time. This small chunk of rock was charred and flaming, but around the size of a small speeder. It landed on the ground with a burst, fragments of blackened rock coiling off of it and sending a small wave of sand flying. As the SharpClaw stepped forward, watching the flames diminish as the smoke settled, they let out a sigh of relief.

Until they caught a glimpse of something pink and frothy caught on the corner of the stone, bubbling next to the flames...which made an odd, crackling noise...

And right before the crackling stopped, Wolf, who stared on from a safe, huddled distance, couldn't help but recognize that noise from his exploits on the factory planet, Macbeth.

It was the sound of air distorting...rising from hot nitroglycerin...

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMM!

A tower of whirling flame erupted from the spot, shaking the ground under the staggering SharpClaws' feet and throwing mountains of sand in every direction. The lack of large debris limited the damage caused by objects hurtling in multiple directions, but the pulsing flame and immense shockwave was enough to cause the SharpClaw to flee rapidly to avoid the blast.

As the embers drifted to the ground and the walls of flames sprung loose by the expl, explosion's wake, a huge dust cloud engulfed the wide area, so thick and muddled that the SharpClaw could just barely make out the shape of the Elite next them.

Numerous coughs and groans echoed throughout the sandy area, as they all rose to their feet and gripped their weapons cautiously. There were a few injuries here and there, but no deaths...not yet. One or two of them squinted through the thick dust-cloud, their reptilian eyes scanning the smoky depths of the explosion-aftermath.

And there was no sign of Wolf...not the slightest shadow...or even the vaguest set of prints where he had walked.

But that didn't mean he was gone.

Some of the SharpClaw backed up, their clawed feet treading lightly.

"W-Where...is he?"

An Elite in the back bellowed over the rushing, distorted noise of dust swirling around in the depths of the foggy veil.

"All Elites, form up! Stick together, so that we can still see each other!"

A SharpClaw next to him gripped his pike nervously. "What the hell do we do now? We won't find him in this cloud...Do you think he fled?"

The first SharpClaw, the one who had taken initiative to give orders, looked around in the dusty mist, poking his scimitar out. "He's here...somewhere. He doesn't seem to be the type to flee or retreat...so when he strikes, we'll just have to engage him."

One in the front tore off his mouth-sash, yelling back at him. "Oh, bullshit! Don't talk like this is some cakewalk, like this is just another slave or bounty hunter we've got to pursue! You saw the kind of things he's capable of, along with the rest of us! He's probably taking advantage of this fog's thickness...we're not waiting for him, he's waiting for us! This slave's different from the others. He's dangerous..."

Another one shifted his feet uncomfortably. "Yeah, man...did you see what he did to Anaris? He gutted his face open..." His spear shook in his hands. "...like a stuck pig! A common warm-blood isn't capable of that kind of brutality," He added, his eyes darting through the dust. "He doesn't hesitate to show mercy or sympathy like the rest of the warm-bloods! He's different...he fights like us: without remorse or lenience..."

A SharpClaw in the back loaded his crossbow with a steel arrow. "Tch...I don't know what all you people are worrying about. You saw how he was earlier...he's covered from head to toe with bandages, and he's taking in more wounds. We can take him..."

The Elite next to him scowled. "You can wear that smug look when it's your body at his feet!" He looked around, wide-eyed. "I was watching his movements the whole time...or at least, trying...and the wounds aren't slowing him down. He's been moving at the same rate the entire time...he doesn't even stop to flinch or acknowledge the pain when he takes a hit! It's like he can't feel the pain..."

"Don't be ridiculous, of course can feel pain!" The one behind him retorted. He looked back nervously. "I mean, he's still human, isn't he?"

"He might be...or he might not..." Someone muttered. "I've never seen a canine move like that before...it's not natural..."

"So, what, is he a demon?"

"Can't be...a demon kills one man and takes his soul back with him. Unlike a man who kills many, a demon only kills one, and stops at some point." The SharpClaw talking gripped his sword. "But this guy...he's slaughtered most of our men already...and he's going to slaughter more."

The group of SharpClaw huddled closer, not necessarily for tactical advantage as much as uneasiness. They stared out nervously into the enveloping dust, which had suddenly made the air dense and cold. The slightest noise would send their frantic senses off...the clink of a sword, the creak of a spear-shaft, the rattling of someone shivering in their armor...

The SharpClaw that stood in the front notched an arrow into his shaking crossbow, pointing it into the ominous fog that draped the air in front of him.

"I don't like this...sitting in this dust, waiting for him to make a move. It's not like forcing one of the usual upstarts back into his shackles or barracks. He can move in and out of here whenever he wants...so quickly, we probably wouldn't hear it..."

"Yeah, I saw the way he moves..." Another one added in a low, fearful voice. "He's too damn fast...it's like the wind was struggling to keep up with him. He just cut through the others in the second it took me to blink...and then rushed past their bodies like a shadow..." He shuddered. "There was a moment or two back there where he moved so quickly and lightly...I didn't even hear his feet move across the ground...like he didn't even have any..."

The one next to him lowered his shaking sword. "N-No feet? What the hell is he? A ghost?"

A SharpClaw standing with his back to the mist turned at the word "ghost".

"Maybe...remember when I said that slave wouldn't be able to survive the Adder Tongues?" He gulped. "I'm beginning to think he didn't..."

"Oh, please...the dead don't walk, or bleed for that matter..."

"But the living don't kill like that, either," One said with large terror-stricken eyes. "Or have eyes like that...Did you see his eyes?"

"Damn it..." One of them muttered. "I should never have accepted this position at the Slave Yard...I should've stayed at the Palace as a Guardsman. I didn't sign up to fight someone like this...not someone who's a murderous freak who moves like a ghost, and stares at the corpses he makes with insane intent as he carves it up. He's just like Talon and his brother...someone who lives to bathe in carnage."

A SharpClaw far back shook his head. "No...he's not crazy. I've seen my share of deranged killers, and he isn't one of them...he's been calm the entire time...and I think that's way worse. He knows what he's doing. He's remained level-headed to give him the superior edge in the heat of battle. He's obviously fought battles like this before..."

"But as what? If he wasn't an assassin or bounty hunter before he was a slave here on Titania, who the hell was he?"

"Yeah, what kind of battles was he in to make him good enough to kill SharpClaw?"

CLANG!

The SharpClaw at the center banged his pike on the ground. "SHUT UP! All of you! Stop cowering like a bunch of weak-willed asswipes and stand your ground. You all think this slave's even worth being afraid of? If anything, he's afraid of us! He's hiding in the bowels of the mist because he knows we have the advantage in numbers. Why do you think he hasn't shown himself yet?"

WHOOOSHHHH-THAAAANG!

In that insant, there was a blur of sudden movement that the SharpClaw heard rush past their ears as it thundered across. A murky shadow passed over all of them, moving so quickly that none of them had time to spot in in the air fast enough to react. There was a flash of steel, a crack of wood, and the muffled sound of a pair of feet smashing into the sandy ground and sprinting away.

No one in the group had eyes fast enough to witness what just happened, but the result was enough to end all confusion. The distorted sound of multiple voices ringing at once shook the air as all gasped at the sight of the center SharpClaw, the one who had silenced them only a second ago, collapsed on the ground with the shaft of his pike shattered to severed splinters...

...and the blade plunged into his forehead.

The other SharpClaw looked up rapidly, eyes darting around to catch a glimpse of Wolf...but he was gone.

Pfft-pfft-pfft!

From out in the muddled depths of the surrounding dust cloud, there was the light but unmistakable sound of padded feet dashing through the sand.

"THERE HE IS!"

"Get him!"

Twang! Clurnk!

Arrows and spears flew into the foggy depths before disappearing from sight, the projectiles melting into nothingness upon hitting the surface of the dusty bowels.

Pfft-pfft-pfft!

The running sound echoed from outside the mist, but vibrated from behind them. The SharpClaw whirled around confusedly, whirling their blades and pikes blindly into the fog. Others whirled their heads in opposite directions, hearing the sound of footsteps from all around them in the mist.

Then, a shadow appeared in the fog-enveloped distance.

"THERE!"

A SharpClaw dashed forward, slicing through the mist with his machete. But by the time his blade cleaved its way through the smoke, the dark imprint of the shadow was gone.

Sltrrch!

"GAAARGH!"

The SharpClaw whirled around to the back of the group, to see an Elite clutching his shoulder, sliced open and gushing black blood into the sand. He collapsed to his knees, dropping his crossbow.

The machete-wielding one's eyes widened with disbelief. What?

How could-? He was right HERE!

How did he-?

WHRRRSHLIRTCH!

The other SharpClaw backed away with horrified stares, as the machete slipped from his hands and fell to the ground...along with his swiftly-cleaved head. One of them pointed a clawed finger in the mist ahead.

"He must be there! SHOOT HIM!"

Twang-TWANG! Twang!

Arrows whistled into the gathering wall of cloudy dust behind the decapitated SharpClaw's body. But they just disappeared, the sound of rapid footsteps echoing around them...before they echoed louder behind them.

The SharpClaw whirled around, arrows drawn and pikes lowered, eyes darting back and forth while they listened desperately for the sound. Heavy breathing from one another deafening their ears as they kept them alert. Their eyes, shaking fearfully, looked around in huge gazes...their sight becoming adjusted to the bleak nothingness of the fog...and waiting for the slightest outline of a shadow.

Then, one appeared...just a few feet away...

"OVER THERE!"

The SharpClaw spun around, stabbing their long-reaching pikes forward into the depths of the mist.

Shwa-HING!

All turned at the sound echoing to the side, as a SharpClaw gasped and fell to his knees, fingers curled gingerly around an oozing gash etched into his face.

SHING!

"Agh!"

Another SharpClaw, this one on the completely other side of the group, cried out as drop to one knee which had been split with a massive cut that bled a raw black.

Pfft-pfft-pfft!

The sound of rapid footsteps circled around the area, and the SharpClaw whirled their heads around. Now, their breathing had become heavy and chopped into wisps of stifled gasps. Sweat dripped down their necks and rolled off the edge of their sword-handles. They stepped back shakily, bumping into one another or stumbling over the fresh body of a slain comrade.

All of them were terrified...not of Wolf, or what he was doing...mostly because they couldn't see either one. They had no idea where he was striking from...if he was in front of them, or behind them...whether he was next to them, or right on top of them. He was not in a consistent spot, and yet he was consistent about how he moved about. He seemed to be around them...but also amongst them.

He struck them from everywhere in the mist...and yet was nowhere to be found.

"Shit...we can hear him, but we can't see him...so if he can't see or hear us either...how the hell is he finding us in this fog without being found first?"

WHOOSH!

A dark shape whirled over them, casting a shadow that traveled past their feet on the ground. They all looked up and saw a black shape, with pointed ears and tail, flip over in mid-air above them...swinging something so fast and blurry to see, it looked like a gleaming part of his hand.

"HE'S THERE! GET HIM!"

Hurtling showers of steel arrows shot through the air around the black shape as he whirled over their heads. Most arrows disappeared completely, while others rained back down on their heads, split into two fragments by the slice of a sharp blade.

The shadow disappeared as it landed somewhere in the barely-visible outskirts of the mist.

"He's on the ground! Shoot him down!"

Arrows split the air as they tore their way through the fog, but disappeared just as the shadow did. The footsteps echoed around them before becoming faint...and becoming louder, but appearing on the opposite side of the fog.

"Damn it! I lost him...but I definitely saw him this time!"

"Yeah, I saw him too...that must be mean this dust-cloud's getting thinner, and starting to fade away..."

An orange SharpClaw kept his eyes on the fog, while his hands automatically notched arrows into his shaking crossbow. His ears were clogged by his own nervous panting, arrows slipping out of his sweating hands.

Pfft-pfft-pfft!

The sound of footsteps grew louder and fainter around him, but he dismissed it anxiously, certain that no matter how hard he looked like the others, he wouldn't spot Wolf...

The other SharpClaw looked around anxiously, poking their pikes and swords out into the open mist, but not daring to step too far out of the reach of the huddled group...

Swa-SHING!

A SharpClaw groaned as he fell behind the Orange Archer, a bloody wound spreading its gory reach around in his stomach.

The Orange Elite, shoved his last three arrows into the multiple slots of crossbows reloading wheel and hastily pushed the wheel into the crossbow's handle outlet.

"GARGH!"

A SharpClaw on the other side of the group let out a gurgling, deprived scream before collapsing on the SharpClaw behind him, a series of acute slashes battering the area around his ribs.

Cocking his crossbow and letting the inner mechanism automatically notch the arrow, the Orange Elite raised his weapon and looked around fearfully, his heart pounding.

The air around him was infested by a series of whirling gleams, all appearing and disappearing at different spots in the mist. Each gleam struck down a SharpClaw, before a shadowy shape would pass by it with bolting speed. Suddenly, the mist started to thin from all the rushed movement within it, and the figure's shape became more visible. His face and expression were too dark and concealed to see, so the only visible things were his glowering eyes and bared teeth. It was then that the Orange Elite realized with shock that the shape was Wolf, speeding through the crowd of SharpClaw and whirling his Claw.

Now that the dust was starting to clear, he was more visible, and easier to see. The Orange Elite followed his movements with nervous concentration, the arrowhead tip on his crossbow following the pattern of his movements…..

He'd only get one shot at this...

CLANG!

Wolf whirled his Claw at the SharpClaw's halberd, his short blade scraping down the long shaft and slicing at the scaly fingers curled around it. The SharpClaw dropped his weapon with a roar of pain, staggering back and clutching his black-drenched fingers.

Krrnntch!

Turning his Claw in hand, Wolf bolted forward and smashed the butt of his handle against the reptile's snout with such force, that a sickening crack echoed from the swollen complex of his snout.

HWING!

Ears perking at the sound of a blade ringing through the air behind him, Wolf leapt to the side before the chipped edge of a SharpClaw axe could hack his ribs open from behind, the Elite holding it yelling through the smoke.

Wolf started to dash back into the barely-visible depths of the thinning mist, preparing for another sprint around the group of SharpClaw that stumbled over each other in the cluttered panic. Once he had stepped far back into the mist, until the SharpClaw were but clamoring silhouettes in the distance, he winced as he tried to ignore the searing gash on his ankle where a pike had grazed it.

He panted heavily through his battered ribs, his breath heavy and dehydrated from the heat...

I can't keep this up for much longer...I'm almost exhausted...

There's not that many of them left...must be less then ten of them by now...

Ker-TWANG!

Suddenly, a noise erupted clearly through the coiling dust cloud, and Wolf froze as he heard a streaking whistling sound follow it instantly. He turned slowly, just in time to see a blur of silver fly towards him, before disappearing as it passed his line of vision and sunk itself into his shoulder.

At first, there was a piercing pain that stung that shoved itself through the aching wounds under his bandages. It was sudden and shocking, but not too painful. His eyes wandered groggily, off-set without prepared reflex, down towards his shoulder to see a long, silver arrow-shaft protruding from his shoulder.

There was very little pain, just the shock in the aftermath of processing the wound's existance.

But then, the electric arrow's voltage charge ignited...

...and everything went from bad to worse.

Wolf's eyes grew huge as the familiar, blueish-white onsluaght of searing pain wrapped around and under his skin, burning and popping his senses open. The bolts of electricity spiked his fur up and drew his body down into a horrible, heavy feeling, his bones tingling so much that they felt like they were going split. His arm, shoulder, and back went completely numb, his mouth releasing one last yell of pain before his body collapsed.

"GAAAAAAAAAAARGHHH!"

The electricity spun from the arrow's point, embedded deeply into his shoulder. He sank into the ground, the smoke from the intense charge as well as from the dust coiling off of him, as he emerged into the blinding sunlight.

Clump!

He fell to his weakening knees, his hand shooting out to to the ground to catch himself before he fell face-first into the sand. The electricity numbed down the quivering surface of his supporting arm, as his shoulders rose and fell to his deprived panting.

Damn it...electric arrows, where the hell did they get these from?

And when did they start using them...?

Then, he remembered...that first day when he arrived at this place, when he was being escorted in chains like everyone else...and that upstart cardinal, who had been put down with the shock of an electric arrow...

Head lowered so that he watched his own sweat droplets fall and disappear into the sand, he cursed under his breath.

Shit...they DID use these before...and I didn't prepare for it...

...and it caught me off guard like a stupid, careless idiot...

The electricity burned into his arm, but not in an excruciatingly-painful way. Its effect was starting to wear off slightly, but not fast enough before Wolf heard the ringing sound of voices from inside the whirling dust-cloud behind him.

"HEY! Look over there! I saw a light flash from that side...looked like an electric charge!"

"One of the arrows hit him! Take him down while he's still paralyzed!"

Wolf looked down at the arrow plunged deep into his shoulder, with clenched teeth.

"Stun"? It didn't do that...

My arm feels like it's been thrust into a Central Power outlet on the back of a ship's engine...

But I can still move...rigidly, but still fully...

He froze instantly, his eyes lighting up.

But THEY don't know that...

He kept his back bent and his spine arched, shivering slightly at the small bursts of pain from the aftermath of the electrical surges. His fur spiked up in numerous places from the static charge, and his hand vibrated in the sand from the tremor of rushing footsteps hammering the ground in the distance.

The last of the SharpClaw burst out of the dust-cloud, pointing their swords and pikes around, while their reptilian eyes searched the area, squinting from exposure to the sun after being stuck in the shade of the mist.

Then, their eyes fell on him.

"THERE HE IS!"

"Wait!"

Everyone turned to the Orange SharpClaw with the crossbow, who looked stunned that he even managed to land a hit on Wolf.

"We...we can't be too hasty about confronting him. We've already seen what he's capable of, and he's already outsmarted us once. He's killed enough us to prove he can't be underestimated...it could be a trap..."

For a moment, none of them moved, acknowledging the caution in his words. They remained on the spot, gripping their weapons tensely, as if waiting for Wolf to spring up and somersault towards them, Claw swinging. But after a few furrowed eyebrows, a few looks around, and the sight of him, weakly crouched on the ground with an arrow on his shoulder, their uneasiness started to wear away.

Wolf continued to pant where he was, eyes darting around to catch any suspicion or hesitation in their expressions. Even if he wasn't paralyzed, his movement was limited to a slight degree...and they were starting to notice...

Then, a bulky SharpClaw with a spiked mace stepped forward, eyeing Wolf for a moment. Then, a savage smile started to play on his lips and swung his mace up. Wolf curled his fingers around his Claw with his less-rigid hand to be ready for the first strike, while he poured out as much strength as possible on his weakened, supporting arm.

"He's not hiding anything...he's been wounded, and he knows it! He's in one spot with nowhere to run and no dust to hide behind... There's nothing stopping me from bashing his damn brains out now that he's crawling on the ground like a trampled cockroach!"

WHOOSH!

Wolf's hand flew up with a sudden jerk of reflexes as the massive mace swung down and smashed against his Claw. The block lasted for only a second, before his eyes widened in surprise at the sudden onslaught of superior weight that rattled his arm. The mace sent a vibrating repulse that caused the Claw to rip free from his shaking, smaller hands and clatter to the ground.

"Argh!"

He grunted as his wrist twisted slightly from the sudden force of strength, feeling like an iron pincer collided with the recovering strength of his bones.

The SharpClaw snarled as snatched at Wolf's head with the hand that wasn't burdened with the mace's weight, his clawed fingers grabbing a fistful of his head-fur faster than he could react.

The sudden pinching and wrenching of the short fur on his head being yanked and ripped at caused Wolf to let out an agonized yelp. His arms swung about uselsessly while he was in the SharpClaw's grip, his eyes watering from the intense jerk of pain. Being hoisted off his feet by the taller SharpClaw, he swung his foot out and aimed a kick at the SharpClaw's stomach.

KRRRNT!

His bare foot smashed against the armored chest of the SharpClaw, causing him to stagger back but let out an unaffected grunt, releasing his grip on the fur. Wolf landed on his feet, eyes scanning the ground hurriedly for his Claw.

But right as he spotted its glinting, half-sunken surface peeking from the sand, Wolf felt a massive, thick, scaly object latch around his neck and drag him back. Whatever it was was as big and as thick as a log, hooking its massive hold around Wolf's throat and crushing it with its anchor-like weight, the clawed hand at the end of it gripping the back of his neck into a choking hold.

"Haaach-grrt-KAAAK!"

It was like having his throat flattened while being caught between two griniding, bone-crushing gears. The SharpClaw continued to hold him in a tight lock, his huge arm hooked around Wolf's neck and crushing it slowly. A horrible, tightened, restricted air of frantic choking escaped his throat as the skin on his neck started to tighten. His stomach started to well up into a sickening ball, a hot, nauseous feeling crawling up his body and making him sick.

Wolf wanted to scream under the immense pain, as he felt his neck forge itself over the bone marrow underneath, but was unable to pass an air of his own voice from his blocked vocal chords. The hot, putrid breath of the SharpClaw stung the insides of his ears as the SharpClaw sneered into them from behind.

"Yes...that's it. Struggle and choke, like a corpse in a compactor...you aren't so powerful now, are you?"

The SharpClaw watching stopped gawking in fearful caution, and started to smile conifdently, a few of them daring at a jeering laugh or two.

"KKAACH-Ah-HAAAAH-kkrrrt-kaaak-KAAAK-"

Wolf's voice gurgled ino a harsh, shaking, strangled scream, as the SharpClaw continued to choke him.

He struggled uselessly, his arms hanging limply by his side as all other body functions screamed for help at his battered, suffering lungs. Tears of strangled agony brimmed his huge eyes, that looked in all directions desperately. He couldn't think anymore than he could breathe, but he tried to kick some reflex into his feet and arms to do something.

He jabbed his elbows into the reptile's stomach, kicked at it weakly, and even tried wriggling under his grip...but that just took too much energy out of his already-exhausted body, and wasted air that he was losing fast.

The SharpClaw's arm tightened. Wolf's fur spiked as his mouth hung open, saliva starting to build over his lip as his mind and insides screamed in pain. He hammered his fists weakly against the SharpClaw's arm...gnashed his teeth, but the arm was too low under his chin to reach for a bite...

"Tch...you warm-bloods amaze me with your weakness, you know that? Any moment now, your tiny little neck will snap like a dead twig..."

Then, Wolf's hands flailed around over his head, reaching and clawing at the air above it. The SharpClaw gave an amused sneer.

"Stupid idiot...what are you doing...?"

...then, his hands caught his face.

Shwa-SHING!

The second he felt the familiar scaly skin under his fingertips, he unsheathed his claws and sunk them into the SharpClaw's face.

"GAAAAARGHHHH!" The SharpClaw let out a throaty yell, but growled as he kept he kept a tight lock around Wolf's throat, determined to break it...

Patchy, hushed breaths escaped from Wolf's mouths as his face was drained of color, drool pouring over his mouth and uncomfortably dribbling down his sun-baked chin. His legs started to go limp, twitiching slightly, as he panted weakly through his punctured lungs and powered the last of his energy to dragging his Claws down the Elite's cheek.

STTTTLLLRRRRT!

"!"

Chunks of torn, scaly flesh ripped off of his face and dangled on the ends of Wolf's claws, black blood gushing from the huge, wavy claw-marks that were gashed deep in the SharpClaw's face. He let out a spine-tingling scream that almost tore the inside of Wolf's ears out, and slackened his grip on his face to throw a hand up to his bloody face.

"Huuuughhh!"

Wolf gasped as he sucked in the air that his tightened lungs had denied him, the cool rush of it soothing the choked, clumped-up areas down his throat. He collapsed to the ground, coughing and spluttering in a loud, painfully-hoarse voice. He reached up and rubbed his throat gingerly, wincing as he ran his fingers over the horrible, thick, searing bruises of the SharpClaw's bicep-mark that striped his neck, the scales imprinted into his flesh.

The SharpClaw dropped his mace on the ground with a sand-spraying thud, groaning as he clutched his face, flailing his other hand around blindly.

Wolf whirled around and caught his hand, clenching it furiously. He bared his teeth into a yell as he jerked it back by the wrist, moving behind the SharpClaw, and yanking it back so that it twisted at an unnatural angle.

KRAAAK!

The SharpClaw, blinded by the pain that gripped his face with extreme intensity, howled Wolf twisted his arm all the way back so that a sickening crack echoed from within his stretched skin, his arm curled backwards in a crooked, broken twist that hung limply. Wolf released the bent arm with a grunt of effort, his hands sweating from having to pull the massive-boned arm all the way back with his smaller, inferior strength...which had been the equivalent of bending an iron crank.

The SharpClaw's good hand snatched at at his sash blindly, drawing his dagger and thrashing madly with it.

"YOU MISERABLE, MANGY LITTLE FUCK! I'LL KILL YOU!"

Wolf ducked under the first swipe easily and curled his hand into a fist, aiming for the most obvious and vulnerable spot on the SharpClaw.

SLAM!

Stllrrtch!

Wolf snarled menacingly as he hurled his fist at the open wounds on his face, his knuckles mashing against the fleshy under-surface of the wound. The SharpClaw roared as he stumbled back in an agonized daze, but Wolf brought both fists up, and aimed intense, enraged punches at the open gashes.

SLAM!

WRRTCH!

KRRRNTH!

The pulsing blows mashed deeper and deeper into the wounds, Wolf punching them so hard that his fist traveled deeper inside the gashes and drenched his knuckles with the black blood that sprayed from them. The SharpClaw groaned as he was forced to his knees, spitting and coughing blood, but Wolf didn't show any leniency...the bruises on his neck and the scars wouldn't let him. These SharpClaw wouldn't show mercy or fairness in a fight...he wasn't about to do the same.

"GRAAAGH!"

The SharpClaw yelled as he flung his hands outwards, his fingers blindly curling around Wolf's neck, and tightening once they had felt it. Wolf seethed as the bruise on his seared with pain, as the same scales that had etched it scraped against its swollen surface, denying him of breath again.

Wolf didn't wait for the same set of events to occur a second time. He thrust his fingers in the mouth of the SharpClaw, prying it open as the reptilian fangs sank into his palms. He clenched his teeth, struggling against both the pain of his hands and throat. Finally, he gripped the top and bottom portion of the SharpClaw's mouth fully, the fangs sinking deeper into his hands, as he pryed it open with his full strength.

"HUUAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!"

SNAKKK!

The SharpClaw let out a gurgling, distorted scream, as Wolf tore the jaw down with such fierce force that the flesh in the side of his face completely ripped off, the bone holding the side of his jaw together snapping completely. With his mouth literally hanging sideways like an broken door-hinge, the Elite's eyes bulged out of his socket, all speech and noise that wailed from his mouth retching and inaudible. Blood gushed from the side of his mouth, pouring down on his tunic and chain-mail, giving both a repulsive stain.

Finally, the Elite's eyes rolled back and he collapsed unconciously in the sand, passing out from the immense exposure to pain. His limp fingers slid off of Wolf's throat before he hit the ground. His snapped jaw was pushed diagonally above his snout, and the black, damp patch of sand that surrounded his body grew bigger around him.

Wolf's ear twitched slightly as he let his shoulders rise and fall, panting heavily. His breath was ragged and hoarse from the struggle to breathe, and the fur on his forehead hung in matted, unkept, untamed spider legs. The heat had become hotter and more unbearable from the toll of exhaustion on his body, and the thickness of the air seemed to expand its way through his recovering lungs. His hands were almost completely black from the blood that stained them from the ferocious punches, making them look dipped in ink. They were clenched, with a thin trail of his own red blood seeping through his blackened fingers from the deep teeth-marks that were sewn into his palms.

His eyes traveled groggily towards the SharpClaw that were watching.

The Elites in the distance were dead silent, with the exception of a few stifled gasps and drawn breaths. Their eyes were massive with terror, their mouths hanging open but only emitting a few horror-stricken, choppy noises that might have been speech. There was no color in their faces, and their weapons rattled noisily in their shaking hands. All of them looked like they wanted to run, but there weren't enough urgent thoughts to push their fear-stricken legs to move.

Their eyes followed the unconscious body on the ground, and then back to Wolf.

Most of them couldn't believe what they had just witnessed...the rest just didn't want to. The massive, muscular, superiorly-built SharpClaw, felt like small, meaningless, terrified children in the presence of this newfound horror.

Wolf was a picture of ungodly malice, his face hollow and sunken like it was deprived of life. His hunched shoulders and lowered head cast a long, ominous shadow in the sand...his starved, thin figure giving him a deformed, twisted appearence. His ragged bandages flapped in the wind, hanging off of him like peeling skin. The countless wounds, bruises, cuts and bandages that decorated his body only added to the menacing aura he had about him.

He didn't look alive...or dead.

A few stammered sentences were formed on the SharpClaws' trembling lips.

"Wha-? Did you see that?"

"H-He...he ripped his jaw off..." One of them said, pointing at him shakily. "...with his bare hands..."

"No way...no fucking way. A normal canine doesn't have that kind of strength..."

"Forget about strength...who the hell is monstrous enough to do something like that anyway?"

"Barbarous freak...what the hell is he...?"

Wolf turned his head and fixed his one, gleaming eye on them. Slowly, he plucked his Claw from its buried spot in the sand, and started to walk towards the SharpClaw.

A rush of fearful gasps passed through the crowd, as the weapons rattled in their hands. None of them had a shred of confidence of facing Wolf now...not after what they had just witnessed. They weren't afraid of him killing them...they dreaded what he would do to them before they collapsed in pain. They might have feared Drakon, or the Adder Tongues, or their master, Talon...but they feared Wolf even more.

His feet made faint trudging noises in the sand, the grains crunching under his feet.

The orange Elite in the middle raised his crossbow shakily. "D-DON'T COME ANY CLOSER! Stay where you are, you got that? Or I'll put another arrow in you! I mean it!"

But Wolf just kept going, blood dripping from his drenched fists and making a trail where he walked.

There were numerous clanks of chain-mail and plates as the SharpClaw pointed their weapons out shakily, taking terrified steps back every time Wolf took one towards them.

Sweat ran down the Orange one's brow. "Didn't you hear me? I said, STOP!"

Krrnch...krrrnch...

Wolf just kept walking.

The SharpClaw's eyes grew huge. "STOP, DAMN IT! I'LL...I'LL KILL YOU!" There was no intimidating or forceful confidence in his voice. His voice trembled more than his hands did, hushed breaths covering the terrified sobs in his throat.

Krrnch...krrnch...

The other SharpClaw cringed with wide eyes, their open mouths quivering and their breathing chopped and heavy.

"IF I HAVE TO SHOOT YOU TO MAKE YOU STOP WALKING, I WILL! Another arrow, that's all it'll take!"

Krrnch.

Wolf's feet came to a halt in the ground, sand billowing past him in the dusty wind. He looked at the nervous SharpClaw in the middle, eyeing his crossbow. Then, he looked down at the silver arrow that was still embedded in his shoulder. Slowly, he raised his hand, and curled his fingers around the shaft.

ZZZZZZZZT!

Electrical charges burst from the wound, sizzling and coiling around Wolf's arm, but he kept his stanc straight and his feet planted firmly in the ground. He clenched his teeth as his flesh on his shoulder and fingers tingled painfully, containing his yell of agony with a low, deep grunt. As the surges spiked his fur and bit into his senses, he winced slightly as he yanked it out.

Slrrrtch!

The SharpClaw's mouths dropped even wider with disbelief as Wolf held the blood-tipped arrow in his hand, flinching occaisonally from the dying glow of buzzing electricity on the charged arrowhead.

None of the Elites moved...none of them blinked in the stunned silence that followed. Wolf should have been on the ground, screaming, before slowly becoming rigid and curling into an agonized, unconcious heap. And yet here he stood, defiant to both logic and human capacity...holding the arrow like a freshly-pulled annoyance of a splinter, too easily dealt with.

"I bathed in the agony of enough electricity to kill a human being before I came here, scum," Wolf finally said, in a low, indifferent voice that wasn't even that loud...but seemed to echo in a tambour that surrounded the SharpClaw. "And then, your master used that barbed set of whips to peel the flesh off my back and bones. After enduring that, do you really think the damage of your arrows is worth two shits?"

Krrk!

The thin alloy of the arrow snapped like a twig in Wolf's clenched fist, its splintered remnants littering the ground.

The SharpClaw stared at the shattered arrow, and then at the countless wounds on Wolf's body.

He took a few more steps forward.

"WAIT!"

Wolf stopped at the clattering sound of a SharpClaw dropping his pike to the ground and throwing his arms up, shaking frantically.

"Don't kill me, please...I surrender, I surrender!"

A SharpClaw next to him scowled furiously. "SHUT UP, you idiot! Have you lost it?"

The shaking one ignored him and fell to his knees imploringly. "Please, I don't have anything to do with you, I was just ordered to go after you like everyone else...we didn't beat you or torture you like Drakon did, we're just following orders! I've done nothing to you, please, DON'T KILL ME!"

The other SharpClaw grabbed him by the collar. "I said, shut up, you dumbass! Do you want to get yourself killed? The penalty for surrender is death! Do you want Drakon to slaughter us, or turn us over to Talon?"

The fearful one swiped his hands away and screamed in furious desperation. "I DON'T CARE! I don't want to die...not like this, not like this...whatever Drakon or Talon will do to me will be quick, but if I die at his hands, he'll make me wallow and cringe in my own pain first! I never signed up to fight someone like him, and I'm not dying like this! I WON'T!" He panted through choked sobs of fear, and the other SharpClaw looked amongst themselves nervously, as if sharing the same thoughts.

"Tch...you stinking hypocrites..."

The SharpClaw turned at the sound of Wolf's voice, eyebrows furrowed quizzically. He stared at them, a welling, disgusted hatred burning in his stomach.

"What's the matter? You can stomach watching a helpless child, a crying woman, a frail old man, or anything weaker than you squirm in its own blood while you beat it to the brink of insanity...but not when it's one of your own? Not when there's something that can stand up to you, and kill you?" Wolf sucked the last of his dehydrated saliva out, and spat on the ground. "That kind of cowardice would shock me, if only I hadn't seen it before..."

He raised his Claw and pointed it in their direction, its gleam causing all of them to step back.

"It's the kind of weak hypocracy I despise with every fiber of my hatred. And personally, I'd like nothing more than to carve your skin off before making you tear each of your bones out, one by one...so you know what it feels like to hear nothing but the sound of your own screams, to be reduced to the victims you torture so casually..."

The SharpClaw's eyes grew massive as their scales became sleek and shiny with sweat, all of them afraid to breathe.

But Wolf slung his Claw on his shoulder. "...But I won't."

The Elites' terrified expressions faltered slightly, looking at him with confusion.

"Now that I've seen how spineless and afraid you are of a fair fight...nothing would come from slicing through hordes after hordes of you. It'd be a waste of my energy, not to mention waste of my Goddamn time. I only pick fights with those worthy enough to die at my feet or let me die at theirs. Besides, that bastard groveling on the ground over there made a valid point...my vendetta's not with the likes of you..." He raised his head, his purple eye flashing with cold-blooded hatred. "...It's with Drakon."

The SharpClaw on the ground gingerly rose to his knees. "So...what will you do with us? Let us live?"

Wolf scowled. "Don't consider it an act of mercy. That's like considering someone to be merciful because he's to lazy to crush a few roaches with his foot. You can do whatever the hell you want, as long as it doesn't affect me. If you're afraid of you're master finding you, then feel free to confront the desert's wrath as an alternative to his, if you want."

He turned and walked towards the towering column of smoke that rose from the dot of a temple in the distance, the orange tower of fire appearing bigger than it was before...an indication of the spreading wake of the explosion.

Wolf's eyes widened alertly, heart racing in sudden realization. He whirled his head around to the SharpClaw.

"Wait! Before you go...that temple over there...it doesn't have much longer before it collapses, doesn't it?"

The SharpClaw turned surprisedly, but were too afraid not to answer.

"Wha-? Oh...I dunno...no, I guess. It wasn't built to endure fire, I don't think..."

Wolf studied their expressions. "And if I were to find anyone that was still there...that had been working there, I mean...where would they be locked up? Where would the cells be?"

Glancing at each other with nervous confusion, the SharpClaw shrugged.

"It depends on who they were. The cells were filled according to species...who are you looking for?"

Wolf looked back anxiously to the fiery remnants of the temple, praying for his fears not to be true.

"I'm looking for a reptile...like you, only smaller...a chameleon. He's tall, thin, blue eyes...kind of unhealthy-looking..." He hesitated for a moment, thinking of the most distinguishable trait. "And wears a grin on his face...the kind that makes you feel uneasy...like he can't be trusted with anything sharp. Do you know where I can find him?"

That was all the things he can think of when describing Leon. Well, almost everything...

I also owe him something...a debt. One bigger than he could imagine...

End of Chapter