Chapter19 Untouched by Death

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The hunt had begun.

The wood is dead silent. The wind refuses to blow. The sun ignorantly shines upon the sky without any shame. Evening comes quickly as it could. So does a pack of wolves and their alphas.

They tread carefully through the plain. The Moorland is nothing but dangerous even to werewolves such as them. Alone, it would not deter them much, but their prey is even more so dangerous. For all the years she had been a werewolf, Arlinn had hunted beasts and men alike. But this time is different. Their prey is different. For once, they are hunting another hunter.

A muscle with legs.

A self-proclaimed apex predator.

A murdering fuckhead who wrestles a baloth in his workout routine.

The man, the myth, the legend. Garruk Wildspeaker.

Only the planeswalker with a death wish would want anything to do with him. Most don't even know he was after them before he appears in front of their face, which was likely their last moment.

But then again, Jace always have highly complicated failproof plans had he didn't often mindwipe himself, Liliana always has a horde of zombies ready, and Arlinn's logic is far from conventional.

Jon, on the other hand, is dragged into this mess without any say. Even if half of the story he heard was true, He would rather damn himself for eternity than let his mother faces that monster alone. His mother is powerful, yes, but, so does Garruk.

If he had learnt anything about how to interact with planeswalker, it is that there is always someone stronger than you. It only takes one slip, only one mistake, only one underestimation, for everything to be over. The multiverse is immeasurable and wild, and there is always a predator for your kind. Death is final even more so when you can leave the plane of existence, well for most anyway.

And by most, it means when a plot narrative is relevant. Rest in peace Venser.

They are close. Jon can feel it. His sense overwhelms him of the danger from this prey. His instinct tells him to stay away. Strange. He hadn't had this feeling when he fought regent dragons on Tarkir, but then again that time he had another regent dragon on his side.

As strong as he is, Garruk is just a man. A powerful beyond normal understanding planeswalker, but a man, nonetheless. He shouldn't be a greater threat than a fully-grown dragon. Right?

Oh, he will soon learn how wrong he was.

"Ready yourself, Jon. Any closer and he would hear us. We move in with uttermost silence." Arlinn crouches down and sniffs the track. She raises her hand and points toward the scent. Wherever she points, the wolves follow. "Take a quarter of the pack with you. Wait for him to single me out then move in to flank them. Hammer and Anvil. I will keep him occupied for you to strike. Remember, hit him with everything you got. Even if he didn't die, he should be injured enough for us to overwhelm him."

"But mother…" Jon protests. "It's not honorable. I should be by your side so we can defeat him together."

"There is no honor in the hunt! I will not let you fight him in close combat. You are not ready." His mother shuts him down. "He is far stronger than we combined. I taught you to fight men and hunt beasts. Not this. He is stronger than any man you ever face and smarter than any beast we ever hunted. He also has access to the same mana source we have."

"Then why are we facing him again?" Jon tightens his grip on his spear. "We could just stalk him and swoop in to take the necromancer."

"Because …." Arlinn's head snap. "Innistrad is our hunting ground. This is our home. We cannot let another predator get away with hunting is our turf. We cannot show weakness, Jon. The multiverse will not allow as such."

Arlinn sneers at a nearby wolf. The beast nods and assumes a crouching stance. She then glances back at Jon and doesn't like what she saw.

"Come on. Don't be discourage. There is more to a hunt than pure strength. Think of it as a challenge you need to overcome. Only when we face danger, wolves like us could grow."

It's not that he is doubting her intention. No. He never doubts his mother's intention on anything. He knows she had his best interest at heart. Always. Well, excluding during her succulent hobbies, that is.

It's the procedure that he has no confidence on. There are so many things that can go wrong. One slip and they are in deep trouble. One mistake and he might lose everything he had.

A fight between two planeswalkers is too unpredictable. His mother's fight with Sorin a few years prior is tantamount to that. Everything could be decided in a mere moment. He doesn't want to lose her, let alone die himself.

He squints his eyes and grabs his spear even tighter. His heart beats heavy. His tongue is restless inside his mouth. The wolf spirt inside is getting restless. It yearns for a fight. His blood is boiling with anticipation. His self-consciousness is freaking out too. It tells him to just turn and run away.

A beast wants to fight, but a man wants to run. Which part of him should he support?

"Jon!" He heard his mother's voice calling him. "Do you trust me?"

"Always. Mother. Always." He replied.

"Then trust me that we will succeed." She looks at him longingly.

There is a silent understanding between them. They look into each other eyes and peer into each other soul.

"Alright then. I will do as you told, mother." Jon nods and pauses. He looks down and sighs, then looks back up again. "Please. Promise me that you will be safe."

As if she was taken aback, Arlinn's mount is opened wide. Her breath stops in shock. Then she smiles. "I promise, Jon. I promise."

While Jon is conversing with his mother, an elder dragon is silently observing within the deepest recess of his mind.

'OOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooo' Its non-existence brows lift up. 'This is getting interesting.'

A fight is about to begin. It will be one hell of a fight too. A battle between planeswalkers are not a thing to be overlook. Even severely weaken as they are after the mending, their ability from drawing a mana directly from the plane is nothing to be scorn at.

And if the happen before the mending, Vaevictis would not be able to scheme at all. One planeswalker is enough to deal with him even when he is at the zenith of his power.

He still remembers that Ur-dragon damned Faralyn and his transmogrify. May his soul suffer for all eternity.

'Let see how well they fight. It will not be too late to help him at the last moment and bargain for more control of the body. Good. Good. It would not be obvious. A bloodline awakening would be a plausible explanation everyone goes to.' His not existence smile widens. 'No one would be a wiser.'

Vaevictis Asmadi knows that he needs to be careful about this. He could not let the boy's mother die, of course. Her death would push the boy toward Ugin and his minions, and that would cause too much of a problem. Having the boy stay at arm length from Ugin is a dangerous game he played. Of course, he would not be discovered if he didn't give his cousin any reason to look. But if the she-wolf dies, then Ugin might take the boy under his wings. By then, things will be unpredictable, and he couldn't afford that.

It's best if she is severely wound so she would draw all the attention.

'An apex predator of the multiverse. What a joke. If this foolish druid still alive when I'm out again, he will be the first one to know the true meaning of an apex predator.'

His non-existence claws scratch his non-existence chin. He needs to gather his power beforehand. The battle would be fierce and unpredictable. Like a coin toss, no one would know how it's going to end.

And while the dragon plots, the wolf spirit stalks and bidding its time. He pays the mutt no attention. For what can a mere lone wolf do when an elder dragon rules the sky.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

The frustration is unbearable. His prey had escaped him again. That makes it twice since he came to this accursed plane. It even worse that this time he almost had her. It was only one ax swing away. So close, yet so far.

Garruk Wildspeaker is not happy. In fact, he had never been happy. Ever since Shandalar, he found himself unable to rest. Dark whisper clouded his mind. It promises him of power had he gave it control.

Of course, he didn't surrender to its lie. He is goddamn Garruk Wildspeaker, and he had it with these mother fucking curse from the mother fucking veil!

Still, hunting down the necromancer is easier said than done. The hunt took him across the multiverse. He had to go to Ravnica! Sodding Ravnica!

That accursed plane-sized city is an antithesis of everything he stood for. He wishes nothing more than the plane's absolute annihilation, but he couldn't be bothered to do it himself. No number of beasts he could rally would allow it to happen.

But now, the whisper is getting stronger. His body feels less like his own by the minute. It is like he is looking through someone else eyes.

And it makes him rages even more. He wants to kill something. Anything. It doesn't matter whether it is alive or dead. He just wants to sink his ax into something and tear it apart with his hand.

Lo and behold, there is one coming right now. Perfect. He could use a fight.

'I hope this one would not disappoint.'

The wind fell silent as Garruk tightly grips his ax. Something is not right. The pack doesn't answer his call as it should.

No that is not how it really went.

The packs answer his call. The answer is NO!

Fine then, he will summon his own pack. But not with blackjacks and hookers, they are not natural.

Man-sized beasts emerge from thing air as Innistrad mana condenses into a shape per Garruk memories. This is the ability of most planeswalker shared but is rarely used. The reason? Fuck if he knows. But then again, not many had experience in leading a pack as he has.

Just as Richard Garfield intended.

*HOWL*

Garruk's head snaps and rocks backward just in time to dodge an incoming spear by a hair length. The spear was fast. Way too fast to be thrown by any man. Its impact rocked the ground with it landed and sent a mud high to the air.

Cursed. The thunderstorm masked the smell, that he knew. He thought it would hide him from his prey before it is too late, not the other way around.

Taken a deep breath, Garruk let out a bellowing cry. The air echoes with the power from his lungs. His beasts roar in response. Their scream shatters the silence of the Moorland apart. It struck fear in the heart of all the living in the area. All except those who are attacking him.

Out from the shadow emerges a woman and her pack of wolves. Interesting. Her pack outnumbers his five to one. Ha. There is the first time for everything he supposed.

Before Garruk could react, the woman struck. Her eyes light up as magic gathers in her hand. She darts forward with superhuman speed and lunges herself at him. Her mouth opens and lets out a terrifying howl. No words were spout but the message got across all the same. The woman, this planeswalker, is the plane's native, and he is intruding on her hunting ground.

Smile dawn on Garruk's face. He finds this amusing. 'Her hunting grounds. Fool! Garruk hunt as he pleases!'

He swings his ax to intercept this arrogant pretender but found his arms stopping midway. Chains of light smash upon his body and hold him in place. The restriction was placed on his limbs as the chains pull tighter and tighter.

A Luminous Bond. Basic utilization of white mana commonly used by hieromancer and the like. Simple, yet effective.

Even with his immense strength, he couldn't break this chain by force. He could supplement his power with green mana but so does his attacker with white. Such is a fight between planeswalker.

Garruk grunts as he struggles to get out of the hold. Before he could do anything else, though, his attacker slams her feet right across his chest. It sends him flying across the moor and lands fifty meters away. His packs move in to protect him but got intercepts by the wolves. One on one, they would not be any problem. His beast would tear down these wolves, even as unnaturally big as they are, like it made from wet clay. But five on one? Nah, this would be a problem.

The woman picks up her spears and readies herself for his counterattack. Smart. Almost too smart. She must have known that he could break the bond and caught her off guard had she continues her assault.

It is the first time he is being hunted. It had been a long time since he fought with another humanoid, the damned necromancer excluded.

Garruk connects himself to the nearby forest and taps deep into the plane's green mana. He funnels the green mana directly to the chains of light that bind him. The bondage is broken in an instant.

Naturalize. Basic utilization of green mana and a big fuck you to all enchantment and artifact.

The woman readied her stance. Her spear held high at the neck level as her body slightly lowered. This is not just another brute with a pack. This is a skilled fighter who hones her skills through blood and steel.

He raises his ax to counter her stance. The shaft is rested on his shoulder as the ax head is extruded toward his back, hiding it from his opponent's view. His knees slightly bent, lowering his center of gravity enough to be effective.

It is a standoff. An Ixilan standoff.

Garruk squints. His mind analyses and predicts what his assailant would do. She would probably think him a brute due to his sheer size. He could use that to his advantage and catch her off guard.

'If she thinks I am a brute then … She would try to out speed me. She is using spear, so she will try to keep distance.' Thought Garruk as he channels more and more green mana toward his muscles.

He aims to end this in one swing. He expects to see her surprised face when her spear struck true, but he didn't die. Right before he cleaved her in half, of course.

But he couldn't be more wrong.

The hunt is going just as planned for Arlinn Kord. Her wolves keep Garruk's panther-deer-boar, whatever the beasts are called, occupied. She caught the brute attention. The trap is set, and it is about time she springs it. Just a little bit more.

'That stance. He will try to catch me off guard after my hit land.' Arlinn realized. 'He thinks I will rely on my speed. Typical brute.'

Gripping her spear tight, Arlinn summons her power. Her psyche taps into nearby mountains and forests and draws red and green mana into her muscles and bones. The wolf spirit roils in excitement. With mana enhancing her body, she could match Garruk's strength, speed, and then some.

With a silent challenge, she lunges herself forward. Her spear, ever ready to strike at her target, points toward his heart. Her arms cock back as she blitzes toward Garruk like a … well, wolf lunging at its prey.

With her speed, Arlinn becomes a blur and reaches her opponent in less than a second. She trusts her weapon right before she enters Garruk's attack range. The spear strikes true as she sees her opponent coming for her head with the corner of her eyes.

As the ax blade cleaves through the air, it saturates with black mana so strong she could dread. Aren't Garruk a druid-shaman? Then how could he be able to use such dark power? Did Tamiyo's information wrong?

*HOWL*

The coming of the ax's blade seems inevitable. The momentum can't be overcome. Physic doesn't work that way, neither does their magic. She could see the man smile beneath the helmet. Good. This is within the scope of her expectations.

Arlinn let go of her spear and dugs under Garruk's arm. The momentum it carried allows it to shallowly embed on the brute's shoulder. Her body forcefully twisted as furs rapidly grows on her body. A rapid transformation makes her body bends to an impossible angle, which in turn allows her to dodge by a hair length. Her elongated arms then snap and catch the brute's own, effectively holding him in place.

"JON! NOW!"

The opportunity presents itself soon enough. His mother's plan works. Garruk's beast might be bigger, tougher, and more savage but they had numbers on their side. His flanking attack had gone unnoticed, but he caught the beasts off guard all the same. The path is clear to the target. The brute's back is turned toward him. All he needs is a signal from his mother.

"JON! NOW!" howled his mother as she transformed out of her harm way.

*ROAR*

Jon let out his bellowing warcry. He jumps out from the shadow and darts across the battlefield with a speed of lightning. His dragon blood boils with excitement. It yearns to be let loose and let loose he will. He had one chance. One opportunity to make this work.

Red, Black, and Green mana surge through his body. The lessons he learnt from Ugin and Uncle Vol had paid off. Bloodfire, vitalfire, and deathfire burn within him, ready to be unleashed. His majestic spear hums and shakes uncontrollably, as if it came alive.

Seeing that Garruk is unprotected, and his defense is compromised by Arlinn, Jon trusts his weapon forward with all his might. It pierces through dense flesh, breaks his ribs, tears a hole in his lung, the tip comes out the other side, and the shaft struck halfway through. Had it been any other man, planeswalker or not, he would already be dead.

But Garruk is a genetic freak. Pumping green and black mana into his body is what keeps him going. With the right application of magic, a mortal wound is downgraded into a mere flesh wound. The brute doesn't even flinch at his pain. Instead, he screams in frustration and wrests his arms away from Arlinn claws, lifts them up, and smashes right at her shoulders. The mana enhanced crushing blow catch the werewolf by surprise and made her collapse on the ground. He then turns toward Jon with bloodshot eyes.

Clearly, Garruk doesn't appreciate a spear through his chest.

*ROAR*

So, Jon greets him with dragon fire. It is a Draconic Roar that intends to destroy everything in its path.

The flame burns bright and lit up the Moorland. The darkness of the twilight recedes and hides away in fear. The streams keep coming as Jon's rage grows. His dragon blood boils to its limit. It wants to destroy this insolent dreg of the multiverse that stands in its way. Ever fueling his emotion, the blood grants him more power and take more control of his decision.

While the dragon fire is burning outside, Inside Jon's psyche, the elder dragon smiles. Everything went according to his plans. Even better than what he originally planned in fact. The boy even willingly let his power overtake him as soon as he saw the she-wolf on the ground. Vaevictis Asmadi nonchalantly inserts more of his influence on his host mind. This is too easy.

Almost too easy indeed. Had Jon not sense his target still standing strong, he would think that too. However, his instinct told him that his opponent is unscathed. He senses that Garruk somehow successfully protected himself from the fire.

Had his mother wasn't behind the man, he would increase the intensity of his flame until there is nothing left but ash. Alas, he is not that heartless.

Garruk is pissed. Very pissed. His lung got punctured. There is a spear lodging on his chest. And he is getting burnt by a little boy, probably of the werewolf that attacked him. How can a werewolf breath fire anyway? Even so, his head would make a fine trophy, and her skin would make a fine cloak.

He could have been turned to ash too had he didn't cast Fog spell in time. He had been really lucky that he already saturated green mana on his skin right after the moment he got sneak attacked. From his quick calculation, he could keep it up for another few seconds.

If he was to fight the boy face to face, he would not give the boy a chance to unleash this kind of devastating spell. Alas, he got caught in a well-laid trap.

Well. It's time to break out of it.

Channeling even more black mana from the nearby swamps into his ax, Garruk creates a protective ward of destruction against the flame. The fire is intense and immensely powerful, he gives the boy that, but it also contains a major flaw. This flame is a channeling spell. If he could break the boy's concentration, the power behind his spell would backfire. All he needs to do is to shorten the gap and everything would be over. He could take care of the she-wolf afterward.

Too bad for him, the she-wolf is tougher than he expected and just wait for the moment to strike again.

Custom Card of the Chapter

Card Name: Double Team

Mana Cost: 1G

Type: Instant

Card Text: Up to two target creatures your control each fight target creature you don't control.

Flavor Text:

"I don't think your meaning of double team matches ours, Arlinn." – Narset

"Well, I'm not complaining." - Sarkhan Vol

Rarity: Common