A rain of branches and leaves scattered as the wolf-shaped monsters lunged all at once.There was no time to retreat, no room left for thought.
Claws slashed through the air, fangs glistening with bloodlust beneath the moonlight, ready to sink in at any moment.
Ursulyn unleashed his magic. The ground erupted beneath him, sending up colossal spikes of thorn. Yet the wolves adapted swiftly—leaping between the gaps, using the thorns as stepping stones to drive themselves faster.
One wolf came in from the side—blindingly fast.
A claw swipe nearly tore through the Adventurer. He hurled himself to the ground, letting the attack pass an inch above his belly.
But there was no time to rise—another wolf was already mid-leap.
Thick roots lashed out from the earth like whips, knocking the beast away.
Ursulyn didn't stop there. He poured fire into the roots, twisting them into flaming whips.
But these wolves were no ordinary creatures. Two of them bit down on the burning roots, locking their jaws and holding the flames with their own bodies.
Flesh peeled, but their fangs held fast. Their eyes never wavered, blind to pain—as though fire itself could not bind them.
The others wasted no time, streaking toward the Greenwood Witch and the Adventurer.
Five wolves struck first, leaping straight at the Adventurer, forcing their defenses to split.
Ursulyn moved to aid him, but two more wolves launched from his right, maws gaping, fangs glinting in the moonlight.
"Hrrm!!" Ursulyn growled.
"I'll hold out against them! You deal with the other two!" the Adventurer shouted, sprinting back to gain space.
The pair near Ursulyn attacked in perfect unison, leaving no opening to escape.
Instead of retreating, Ursulyn stepped forward and dropped low, swinging his staff upward with brutal force. A thunderous crack resounded—
Duaghh!—the two monsters were hurled back, froth spilling from their mouths.
Ursulyn lunged after them, ready to finish the strike.
But before he could, three more wolves burst from the shadows of the underbrush, charging his flank.
He spun, staff raised. In an instant, a Chandrapuspa bloom unfurled, releasing a cloud of soft pink pollen into the air. The wolves staggered, their movements faltering before they collapsed into a heap, tumbling over the foaming pair.
Seizing the moment, Ursulyn flung all five dazed beasts toward the flaming roots still clamped between the jaws of the burning wolves. Their half-melted flesh already revealed bone and glistening organs beneath.
The inferno consumed them whole, until the stench of scorched meat spread through the night forest.
Yet the monsters rose again. Charred, their fur and skin sloughing off, they showed no sign of agony.
Ursulyn narrowed his eyes, unsettled by the sight.
He drew a long breath and moved swiftly. These black wolves were not simply savage foes—they were creatures that defied the limits of flesh itself. If he only held his ground, they would come and come again, until his body could no longer move.
The wolves darted faster, surging for him.
Even as he evaded their strikes, the heat of their burning bodies pressed close, claw swipes and snapping jaws battering against him in relentless waves. Ursulyn deflected them with ease, but the fire clinging to their attacks seared the air, forcing him back step by step.
One wolf leapt high, flames roaring larger across its body. Ursulyn thrust his hand upward, weaving a barrier of thick, leafy roots. Fire exploded against it, and the beast tore through, claws slashing straight for his face.
He dodged sideways at the last moment, though the heat scorched his skin raw. Sparks licked his arm when he caught the strike on his staff—blisters rising where the flames touched.
He knew then: this fight could not be won with ordinary spells.
Planting his staff deep into the earth, Ursulyn summoned the forest itself. The ground shook as thorned vines burst forth, ensnaring the wolves. In an instant, all five were trapped in their coils. Fire surged through the vines, turning them into towering pillars of flame.
Still, the wolves did not yield.
Their bodies melted, bones glinting through the ruin of flesh—yet still they tore and clawed at their bindings, relentless.
Ursulyn began to whisper the words of annihilation, a spell powerful enough to erase them entirely.
But before the first line could pass his lips, a different wolf lunged from his left flank.
Reflex alone saved him—roots sprang up into a woven wall, the beast's flames breaking across it, sparks striking him once again.
The wolf lunged again, claws poised. This time, Ursulyn did not dodge. He slammed the tip of his staff into its chest, and colossal roots erupted upward, driving deep into the creature's body, pinning it in place.
Ursulyn's breath grew heavy. The monsters gave no pause, striking without mercy.
A flicker of hesitation—barely a heartbeat—
From the front, a shadow streaked through.
It shattered the Greenwood Witch's defenses, slamming into him with brutal force, hurling his body far back through the trees.
The forest broke before him, great trunks splintering as though nothing could slow his flight.
And then it stood revealed: a wolf, its body ruined beyond recognition, black smoke billowing skyward from its burning hide—yet it struck Ursulyn with terrifying speed and strength.