King Domine's hand rose, fingers already closing around the tar-soaked sack.
He never got the chance to pull it free.
Ercale came down from above in a straight, controlled drop, the borrowed longsword already descending with him. The blade struck across Domine's forearm and drove it down—not cutting through, but forcing the limb away from his head before the motion could complete.
Domine shifted instantly, his other arm snapping upward to take over.
Bram was already inside that space.
The lightning spear in his hand twisted mid-spin, compressing into a shorter, denser blade as he stepped in and smashed it across Domine's second arm. The strike cracked through the air and knocked the limb down again, breaking the motion before it could reach the sack. No damage, but the interruption was enough.
Domine clicked his tongue and abandoned his hands entirely.
His tail snapped upward instead, curving toward his head to tear the obstruction away in a single motion.
"Nope, not happening!"
The tail never reached the cloth. X had already looped a heavy iron chain around the tip, anchoring a massive anvil to the end of the limb. As Domine drove the tail upward with monstrous speed, he didn't feel the weight until the arc was already committed. Instead of a sharp, slicing strike to the sack, the momentum pulled the anvil straight into the side of his own head.
The bone-shuddering crack of the iron colliding with his skull sent a shockwave through his spine. His balance snapped instantly, his own force throwing him sideways as the weight of the anvil dragged his neck down.
That was the opening. They moved on it immediately.
Ercale stepped in low, the longsword carving toward Domine's lead leg. Simultaneously, Bram's blade drove for the opposite ribs. Domine pivoted to catch Ercale's steel, but Bram's weapon was already grinding against his side. As Ercale passed through the turn, he let go of the longsword.
The blade was still in the air when Bram's hand left his own weapon.
In the heartbeat where the steel swapped mid-flight, Bram's lead hook buried itself into Domine's solar plexus. A split-second later, Ercale's palm slammed into the King's temple from the opposite side. The two hits landed as one, the internal pressure forcing a sharp exhale from Domine's lungs.
Ercale caught Bram's weapon out of the air. Bram caught Ercale's.
The spears and swords never stopped moving. Ercale spun with the catch, the lightning stretching the metal into a pike that he drove into the gap of Domine's guard. At the same instant, Bram came in from the blind spot, the longsword rising in a brutal, heavy uppercut that forced Domine's chin back.
Domine's hand flashed toward his head again.
Ercale released the pike. As the weapon hung in the vacuum of the fight, Ercale's elbow smashed into Domine's wrist, pinning the hand down. Bram took the opening, catching the falling pike and slamming the blunt haft into the King's throat while his other boot swept Domine's lead foot out from under him.
The King's body tilted. He tried to catch his weight with his tail, but the anvil's dead weight anchored the limb to the floor. X dropped a flat iron plate exactly where Domine's staggering heel had to land. The King's foot struck the edge and slid, the recoil throwing his center of gravity even further off-line.
Ercale and Bram closed the distance from left and right.
Ercale's fingers locked onto Domine's shoulder, using the grip to vault himself into a knee-strike that caught the King's jaw. Simultaneously, Bram's fist hammered into the King's kidney. The two forces met in the center of Domine's mass. He could not shift his armor-plates to absorb both; the impact went deep.
They never gave him a second of stillness.
When Ercale's blade forced a hand wide, Bram's strike was already landing on the exposed flank. When Bram's tackle slowed the King's turn, Ercale was already behind the shoulder. Weapons blurred between them—thrown, caught, and immediately driven back into the fray. Every time a hand twitched toward the sack, an unarmed strike or a redirected pommel broke the line.
X made every stumble permanent. A plate under a heel, a chain-tug on a claw—never enough to stop him, but always enough to ensure the next two-pronged hit landed clean.
Domine's patience finally shattered.
"Dominus Sacci Cremare."
Heat flared.
The tar-soaked sack vanished in a roar of orange light, the cloth collapsing into grey ash before it hit the floor. A thin line of blood trailed from the corner of Domine's mouth as he lowered his hands.
"You had enough fun," Domine spat, looking angered.
Ercale and Bram pulled back at the same time, their chests heaving as they reset their footing.
"All of that for a little trickle of blood," Bram muttered with an frustrated sigh. "Fuck sake… if only Winter was here to deal with this bastard."
"Or if I had my damn axe…" Ercale muttered in annoyance.
Just as the ash from the burned sack drifted through the air, the Demon Lord's attention snapped upward.
Something cut across the light.
High above the crater, silhouetted against the blazing sphere of holy energy hanging in the sky, a shape tore through the air with violent intent. Not falling, not hesitating, but driving downward in a committed arc.
A mass of fur and muscle.
Claws extended.
Callum.
The werewolf had launched himself from the crater's edge, his descent controlled by nothing but raw force and momentum. His body twisted mid-air to align the strike, his left arm tucked in tight while his right drew back fully, shoulder coiling as every ounce of strength loaded into a single, decisive blow.
The air split around him as he came down.
Not a wild lunge. Not desperation.
A clean, killing trajectory aimed straight for King Domine.
Callum's right arm snapped forward at the apex of the drop, claws leading the motion as he brought the full weight of his body and speed behind the strike, driving it down toward the Demon King.
Callum the werewolf was ready to try and kill King Domine once again.