The wolfsbane burned Fenris internally with no signs of stopping. It was potent.
'Why didn't I smell it?' Fenris thought. 'Probably something was put in my drink to mask the smell.'
'The barkeep!' Fenris' eyes widened. He turned his head toward them.
One of the hunters, the one with a longsword, tossed a pouch of coins to them.
"That's your cut. Now get out of here."
With the barkeep gone, the hunters began to surround Fenris and Buck, their runed weapons raised.
Fenris's eyes sifted through the hunters—more accurately, their weapons. To discern what powers they held. A habit he had formed whenever he was in a fight with hunters.
Runes in this world were seals of magical power in objects, giving whoever held them—mage or not—certain magical abilities through those objects.
The blade on the longsword seemed to have wind runes. Two archers, one female and the other male, had fire runes etched into their bows. And the last hunter—
Too far to see. The wolfsbane in his system made Fenris' vision too blurry.
But most were elemental runes. The most common and basic form of rune magic. Nothing complex such as dimensional or telekinetic runes.
That was good news—in a way.
With all his might, he pulled himself to stand. Running wouldn't be an option. The hunters had surrounded them, blocking any exits.
"Fenris, stay down," Buck said. "I'll handle this myself."
Fenris laughed—or maybe coughed. How was Buck going to take all these hunters by himself? Not like Fenris himself was going to be much use in his current state.
Maybe if it was close to night, then he'd have a chance. But it was high noon. Fenris knew he was going to die. He had somewhat accepted that.
This wasn't just about survival anymore. It was about not going down without a fight.
Fenris brought both hands to his sides, bringing out his claws and showing his golden eyes and fangs.
"Let's go!" he proudly declared.
A strike. Fenris flew backwards, crashing into one wall, then another. He heard a crack.
Alcohol poured down on him from all angles. He opened his eyes to find an elongated whip snapping back to its original size, back to the fourth hunter.
'I guess it just wasn't elemental runes,' Fenris thought.
He tried to stand, but he couldn't. He couldn't feel his legs. That crack he heard earlier—it was his spine. With the wolfsbane still in his system, stopping him from healing, and the alcohol from the broken kegs pouring into him, Fenris began to sink into a sort of drunken state.
"Fenris! Are you okay!?" Buck screamed.
"That's a stupid question," Fenris said, hiccupping.
A wind strike. Buck evaded, crouching, both fangs and claws out.
"One down, another to go," Longsword said proudly.
Buck smirked. "We'll see about that."
He brought his clawed hand down on the tavern's wooden floor.
The room felt—cold. Icy mist slowly rose from Buck, travelling to all parts of the room.
Then—the mist hardened, turned into solid, cracking forms of ice, trapping the hunters all the way up to their knees.
'Did he just…' Fenris thought, surprised. 'No, it's the bane and alcohol scrambling my mind. Wolves can't do magic.'
The hunters had stunned expressions as well. But theirs were mixed with dread, and a shiver not just from Buck's ice trap.
"'H-How…' Longsword stuttered, frightened.
If Buck had a runed weapon like they did, it would have made sense—but they had all seen him use his hands to perform magic, not an object.
'Ah—' the female archer winced in pain.
They all followed. They looked down in horror to find the ice slowly traveling above their knees.
If they didn't act quickly, they would all be frozen.
Buck dashed. Longsword braced himself, unable to move. But Buck wasn't going for him, nor the two archers behind him.
Buck's grip was on the neck of the fourth hunter—the one who had struck Fenris."
The ice traveled faster all over the fourth than it did the rest. When the ice completely enveloped the fourth, Buck squeezed—
crushing the fourth into pieces of ice.
"That was for Fenris." Buck's eyes landed on the fourth's runed whip.
He picked it up and slowly returned his gaze to the other three. His golden eyes and the misty ice background made a terrifying blend.
"Get us out of here!" Longsword screamed to his archers.
Both nodded as they pulled their bows. No arrows were placed on the strings. No normal arrows, anyway.
Arrows constructed out of pure flames formed in the bowstrings. They charged, glowing brighter by the second as they gathered more power.
Buck approached them. He didn't rush. It was almost like he was toying with them, like they were prey.
"Now!" Longsword commanded.
The archers released—but not at Buck. Below their feet.
Boom!
Mist and ice shards erupted, scattering all hunters and Buck around the tavern.
"Ugh!" Longsword crashed into a wall, the female archer against his sword.
They stood quickly, back to back, preparing for Buck's attack. As they did, the mist had turned into a sort of blizzard, blinding them.
The female archer called out to the male archer, but he didn't answer. Moments later, a detached head bounced and rolled to their feet—it was the male archer.
"'SHOW YOURSELF, YOU MONSTER!!!'" the female screamed at the top of her lungs, firing blindly into the blizzard.
Longsword followed, swinging his windstrikes all around as much as he could.
Nothing happened. No indication that Buck was struck by their attacks. The blizzard remained.
The remaining two hunters heard a growl—loud and echoing, vibrating even through their bones.
Panicked and unsure what to do next, Longsword turned to his companion.
"We need to—" His eyes widened. She was gone.
"When did he…" Longsword was alone. Female presumably dead. More than ever, he swung his windstrikes all around him in a desperate attempt to save himself.
He reached for his pouch and downed a vial. His eyes flickered with a luminescent glow as he focused intensely on the blizzard.
He squinted, hoping for a reaction, but nothing came. Night potions helped those who ingested them see through darkness.
Longsword knew that, but desperation and sanity weren't a perfect mix.
The blizzard became colder by the second—or maybe that was just his nerves. His jaw dropped halfway as he came to a realization. The thing surrounding and enveloping him wasn't just ice.
It was something he had felt every time he used his sword.
"Wind magic," Longsword whispered.
Like on command, Buck was now visible in the blizzard. Longsword jumped back in response, his hands numb and his heartbeat irregular from fear and the cold.
"Come on. What are you waiting for? I'm ready."
Buck didn't attack, as Longsword thought. He smiled as he extended his hand. Longsword bit his lip. A human heart lay in Buck's palm—bloody and not frozen by the blizzard.
Longsword screamed, throwing one more windstrike. Buck evaded it quite easily. The numbness from the ice had hindered Longsword.
"I'm done with this," Buck said.
The blizzard slowly died down, revealing the dead hunters and the now-destroyed, barely-standing tavern.
A loud creaking was heard. Longsword turned toward it.
"The pillars—" he said, horrified. They were damaged. Soon the entire place would fall apart.
A strike.
"AH!" Longsword screamed.
A piece of the roof flew off, detached. He collapsed, bleeding quickly.
He looked to where the strike had come from. His hateful eyes saw Buck, with a devilish smile, using the whip of his dead comrade.
"Have fun being flat," Buck said.
He rushed to the unconscious Fenris, carried him on his shoulder and ran out of the collapsing building.
Now outside and away from danger, Buck took one final look before it came crashing down, killing the last hunter who had dared to hurt his friend.
Looking towards Fenris, still unconscious and in pain. Buck smiled. "I was planning on talking you into this, but since you're taking a nap, I guess you won't mind tagging along with me."
"I'm taking you to meet the pack"