Marcel gritted his teeth, planting his feet firmly in the forest's soft soil. His left hand tightened around his sword's hilt while his right instinctively summoned the mana coursing through his veins.
"Your Majesty," he growled, eyes locked on the werewolf. "Stay well behind us."
Cedric nodded, stepping back despite the pain from his wound.
Marcel turned to the assassins, his gaze turning icy. He pointed his sword at them, the blade catching the light filtering through the trees.
"You've just signed your death warrants," he said in a low, menacing voice that carried through the tense silence. "Every man here is ready to fall before letting His Majesty come to harm… and we won't fall alone."
He let mana flow lightly into his blade, creating a threatening hum.
"If you don't back off now, your corpses will serve as a warning to anyone who dares raise a hand against the king."
The assassins didn't respond. Nor did they retreat.
Their leader, a man with a masked face, simply raised his hand.
"CHARGE!"
Everything erupted into chaos.
"Block the horses!" the assassin leader shouted. "You three, handle the guards! The rest, with me to the king!"
The werewolf didn't waste a second. Its muscles tensed, then it launched into the air in a massive leap, claws aimed straight at Cedric.
Marcel reacted on pure instinct.
He pivoted, planted his feet, and raised his sword with both hands. The werewolf crashed into his guard with an impact that shook the captain's arms. The weight was phenomenal. Marcel felt his knees buckle dangerously.
"YOUR MAJESTY, FALL BACK!"
Cedric didn't need to be told twice. He stumbled back, aided by Claude, who grabbed his arm.
The werewolf snarled, its yellow eyes fixed on Marcel with animalistic rage. Its fangs snapped inches from the captain's face.
Then the beast shoved hard, sending Marcel sliding back several meters.
The werewolf charged instantly, head low, jaws wide open. Marcel countered with a direct thrust, injecting a burst of mana into his blade. The sword vibrated fiercely, emitting a high-pitched whine.
CLANG.
The werewolf's fangs struck the flat of the blade. The magical impact exploded between them, sending leaves and dirt flying in all directions.
The werewolf staggered back a few steps, shaking its head. Marcel didn't give it time to recover.
He lunged forward with a full-speed sword strike, releasing a concentrated magical burst from the blade's tip, like a miniature thunderclap.
The werewolf reacted faster than expected. It slid sideways with impressive agility for its size, and its hind leg swept viciously at Marcel's legs.
"Gah!"
Marcel lost his balance but rolled to the side, recovering just in time to block a brutal three-claw combo.
Stomach. Flank. Face.
Each strike was fast, precise, deadly. Marcel parried the first with his sword, dodged the second by stepping back, but the third grazed his armor at the shoulder with a horrific metallic screech.
"Fast little bastard…" Marcel hissed.
The werewolf didn't respond. It attacked again, using its massive shoulder to charge like a living battering ram.
Marcel had no time to retreat. He planted his feet, crouched slightly, and braced his sword in a low guard to absorb the impact.
BOOM.
The collision was devastating. Marcel felt the air leave his lungs, and he was hurled back several meters, his boots carving furrows in the dirt.
But he was still standing.
The werewolf growled, frustrated. It circled Marcel like a predator, searching for an opening.
Marcel pivoted with it, eyes narrowed. Then he struck with a heavy vertical slash, releasing a mana shockwave around his blade.
The werewolf raised its forepaw to block, and the magical wave exploded against its flesh. The creature roared in pain, stumbling back.
"That hurt, huh?" Marcel spat.
Around them, the battle raged.
"WHAT THE HELL IS ALL THIS?!" an assassin yelled, staring at the pile of dead creatures. "How… how is this possible?!"
"SHUT UP!" another roared, desperately parrying a royal guard's strike. "WHO CARES?! The king first!"
A third assassin, younger, spotted Cassian atop the pile. He blinked, confused.
"Hey, there's a kid up there—"
"IGNORE HIM!" the assassin leader snapped. "The king! Focus on the KING!"
The battle was fierce. The royal guards, despite being outnumbered, were the kingdom's elite. Every strike they landed was calculated, efficient, lethal.
Bertrand beheaded an assassin in one fluid motion. Another guard drove his spear into the chest of an enemy who got too close to Cédric.
But the assassins were numerous and desperate.
One, seeing his comrade fall at his feet, completely lost his nerve.
"No, no, no! This wasn't supposed to happen!"
He charged blindly, somehow slipping past the guards in a moment of collective distraction, rushing straight for the king.
Cedric's eyes widened.
SWISH.
Claude appeared from a blind spot, his ceremonial dagger buried deep in the assassin's throat.
The man collapsed, eyes glassy.
"Stay… with me… Your Majesty…" Claude gasped, hands trembling.
"Good work, kid," Cedric murmured, though he was pale as death himself.
Marcel and the werewolf were tearing through everything in their path.
A tree collapsed, its trunk sliced clean by a werewolf attack. Marcel rolled to avoid it, countering with a swift diagonal strike infused with destructive mana.
The blade traced a glowing arc, creating sparkling bursts that briefly disoriented the werewolf.
Marcel seized the opening, chaining two quick strikes. The second was amplified by a concentrated mana explosion, creating a mini magical impact behind the sword.
The first strike hit the werewolf's shoulder. The second exploded against its flank.
The creature howled in rage and pain.
Then it countered with a coordinated double attack: one forepaw slashed at Marcel's face while its jaws aimed for his neck.
Marcel blocked the paw with his sword and used a counter-parry technique, releasing a mana burst that shoved the werewolf's jaws back.
But the creature was relentless. It let out a terrifying howl that echoed through the forest, vibrating the air itself.
Marcel felt his heart clench despite himself. That cry was unnatural, designed to terrify.
And in that split-second distraction, the werewolf lunged.
Its fangs clamped onto Marcel's left forearm. The armor held, but the pressure was immense.
"Damn it!"
Marcel yanked back, but the werewolf pulled harder. He felt his balance waver dangerously.
In a desperate move, he slammed the pommel of his sword into the werewolf's elbow. The grip loosened slightly.
Marcel broke free, staggering back three steps, panting.
His armor was dented, scratched, partially broken. Blood trickled from several superficial cuts.
The werewolf was bleeding too. But it was far from done.
Marcel raised his sword for a wide circular swing, combining a hip rotation with a mana surge, creating a gust capable of repelling multiple attacks.
The werewolf partially dodged, but the magical gust still hit, forcing it to slide sideways.
Marcel moved to exploit the opening, but his legs buckled.
The werewolf saw its chance.
It charged with full force, grappling Marcel's shoulder like a wrestler and unbalancing him with a hook.
Then it struck his exposed flank with a devastating kick.
CRACK.
Marcel felt several ribs give way. He was hurled violently against a tree several meters away.
BOOM.
His armor crumpled under the impact. Marcel collapsed at the tree's base, spitting blood.
"Captain!" Bertrand shouted from across the battlefield.
Marcel weakly raised his head. His vision was blurry. He could barely breathe.
The werewolf approached slowly, ready to deliver the killing blow.
Then it stopped.
It turned its head toward Cedric, still protected by the remaining guards.
And it realized wasting more time on Marcel was a mistake.
The werewolf pivoted and charged at the king.
"PROTECT HIS MAJESTY!"
A guard threw himself into the werewolf's path. The creature slammed into him, sending him flying like a ragdoll.
A second guard attacked from the flank, his spear aiming for the werewolf's ribs.
The creature spun with astonishing speed, snapping the spear with a paw swipe. Then it struck the guard's chest, sending him rolling several meters.
The guards were strong, well-trained. But the werewolf was an abomination, far beyond what a normal human could face.
Fortunately, the surviving assassins came to its aid, keeping the other guards busy as they tried to intercept the beast.
The werewolf was now less than ten meters from Cédric.
Its fangs snapped in the air with anticipation.
A perfect straight line between it and the king.
Atop the pile of corpses, Cassian frowned.
"What the hell…" he muttered.
He'd nearly died minutes ago. He hadn't even had time to process it, to figure out where he was.
And now these people were making a racket right next to him.
"I'm done," he said aloud. "If they want to fight, they can do it somewhere else."
The Shoreless Sea floated calmly beside him. It pulsed faintly, as if responding to his mood.
Cassian sighed and raised a hand toward it.
"Fine. Give me something to shut them up."
The Sea began to open. Slowly this time, not in the panicked frenzy from earlier.
And something emerged.
First, a massive clawed paw. Then a second. Then a muscular torso covered in reddish fur. Then wings, enormous, folded against its back.
And finally, a head.
A lion's head, with a flaming mane and eyes blazing with fierce intelligence.
The Manticore fully materialized, standing tall beside Cassian. It was easily three meters tall, its tail tipped with a cluster of venomous barbs that swayed lazily.
Cassian instinctively knew what to do.
When a creature comes out of the Sea, I have a few seconds to bind it. If I do nothing, it'll be free.
He chuckled softly.
"Let them go free? What a joke."
He pointed at the Manticore.
"Come here."
That simple command sealed the creature's fate. The binding was complete. The Manticore obeyed without hesitation, positioning itself in front of Cassian.
Up close, the beast was even more terrifying. Cassian looked up at its monstrous face, its massive fangs, its eyes fixed on him with absolute obedience.
Cassian grinned. Then he pointed at the battle below.
"Make them stop."
The Manticore slowly turned its massive head toward the scene of violence. Its eyes narrowed.
Then it opened its jaws.
And roared.
The sound was deafening.
A primal, ancient roar that echoed through the forest like the cry of an angry god.
Everyone froze instantly.
Swords halted mid-swing. Assassins stopped running. Guards looked up, faces pale.
"Wh… what was…?" Bertrand stammered, his voice trembling.
The werewolf, halfway to Cedric, stopped dead. Its ears pricked up.
All eyes turned to the top of the pile of dead creatures.
And they saw the Manticore.
Standing majestic and terrifying, staring down at the battle with eyes that promised death.
Beside it, Cassian, small and beautiful, watched calmly.
"I… I must be seeing things…" an assassin muttered.
"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!" another screamed.
The assassin leader, for the first time since the operation began, seemed to lose his composure.
"Retreat," he whispered. Then louder: "RETREAT! SCATTER!"
Several assassins didn't need to be told twice. They dropped their weapons and fled into the forest, panicked.
Others hesitated, glancing at their leader, then the Manticore, then the king.
No one wanted to draw the creature's attention.
Cassian watched the scene with satisfaction.
"There. Finally some control."
But the werewolf didn't move.
It was mere meters from Cedric. So close. So close to completing its mission.
It slowly turned its head toward the assassin leader, their gazes meeting.
The leader gave a barely perceptible nod.
Now or never.
The werewolf charged.
It covered the last meters in two lightning-fast bounds. Cedric desperately raised his sword, but the werewolf's strength was too great.
Its fangs clamped onto the blade, and it yanked.
Cedric was dragged several meters, his feet carving furrows in the dirt. He gripped the sword with both hands, using the blade as a barrier between him and the deadly jaws.
"YOUR MAJESTY!" Claude shouted.
Atop the pile, Cassian frowned.
"…Seriously?"
Someone still wanted to fight?
"Punish that insolent fool," he said calmly to the Manticore.
The creature unfurled its massive wings.
And with a single beat, it leaped from the pile.
The werewolf didn't even have time to react.
Massive claws clamped onto its body, ripping it away from Cedric. The king collapsed, gasping.
The Manticore lifted the werewolf into the air like a mere toy.
The lycanthrope's gaze didn't leave the king below.
I was so close…
Frustration surged within it, drowning out all rational fear.
It turned to the Manticore.
And growled.
The Manticore growled back.
Below, the royal guards rushed to Cedric, forming a protective circle around him.
"Your Majesty, are you hurt?!" Bertrand asked.
"I… I'm fine…" Cedric panted, though he was covered in blood and dirt.
Claude, meanwhile, stared at Cassian atop the pile.
"That kid…" he muttered. "He's not normal. Not at all."
He frowned, thinking aloud.
"Maybe he's not even a kid. Like… a hidden master using mysterious techniques to look like that?"
Then he put a hand to his head, sighing.
"Why do I always overthink…"