The Wolf Knight and the Monster of the Cellar
The dragon girl and the adventurer climbed up into the upper cellar, emerging through the hidden passage and scrambling up the ladder. At first, they wanted to stay and listen—just to hear how the battle below was unfolding. But the clash was so violent, so raw and elemental, that the very walls trembled. Dust rained from the ceiling, bottles rattled on the shelves. In a heartbeat, they made their decision: better to leave the house entirely and wait outside, hoping Anita would be the one to emerge victorious.
Down in the mage's laboratory, however, the battle was already raging at full force.
Anita's ice‑demon form moved in perfect harmony with the combat technique known as feral mode. Her body was as light as dancing snowflakes, yet as deadly as a raging blizzard. The demon—whatever this grotesque, twisted creature truly was—towered over her, at least twice her size. Fortunately, the laboratory was spacious; otherwise Anita would have lost all room to maneuver in the very first second.
The demon lashed out wildly, like a deranged old woman trying to swat a hornet—ferocious, unpredictable, and putting every ounce of strength into each blow. The sheer force behind its strikes was terrifying; whenever its arm slammed into the floor, the stone tiles cracked, and shards of debris burst into the air.
But Anita was faster. Much faster.
Her ice‑blue eyes glowed with predatory focus, tracking every movement, and she slipped past the demon's attacks as if the air itself parted to let her through.
After only a few minutes, two things became painfully clear:
First: the demon's intelligence was even lower than Ironclaw's.
It didn't speak, didn't strategize—just drooled and charged like a maddened boar with an axe buried in its skull.
Second: its body was protected by an absurdly thick layer of earth‑element defense.
Anita had already delivered countless slashes and thrusts, but neither the wind element nor the ice‑demon's power could pierce that unnatural armor.
"How in the frozen hells can this thing's earth element be this tough?" she hissed. "This is on the level of a Stonebear's armor!"
She barely finished the sentence when the demon struck again. Anita spun aside, and the blow hit the floor with such force that every shelf in the lab rattled. The monster didn't care about anything—not the laboratory, not the house, not even its own body. It only smashed, rampaged, and tried to crush the Wolf Knight.
The fight had been going on for at least five minutes when Anita finally landed a massive cross‑slash across the demon's chest. The Dark Sword bit deep into the creature's flesh—or whatever passed for flesh. The wound split open, but instead of blood, stone‑like cracks spread across its body, as if she had carved into a living earth golem.
Anita's patience was wearing thin. This thing was as stubborn as a holy cockroach that had fallen into the Goddess's chamber pot and bathed in sacred yellow water.
She was just trying to figure out how to break through its defenses when the demon's body suddenly began to crack. Chunks of its stone armor crumbled away, falling like debris from a collapsing cliff.
The creature let out a shriek—not the roar of a warrior, but the terrified scream of a child seeing a needle for the first time. It clutched its head with both hands, shaking violently as if something inside were tearing it apart.
Then, without warning, spheres of water materialized around it.
Anita froze.
This wasn't random.
The water spheres were forming from the demon itself.
The demon was summoning them.
There was only one explanation:
This grotesque creature possessed two magical elements.
Earth… and water.
Anita stared in shock at the swirling spheres of water forming around the demon. "What in the sweet, honeyed chalice of the Golden‑Haired Goddess is happening here?" she fumed inwardly. "How can this thing have two elements?"
She had no time to ponder. The water spheres suddenly shot toward her, all at once, as if obeying an invisible command. Anita raised the Dark Sword and sliced through them one by one. With every strike, the blade's ice‑demon aura froze the droplets instantly, turning the shattered spheres into solid ice pellets that crashed to the floor and burst into glittering shards. Within seconds, the laboratory tiles were coated in a slick layer of icy debris.
That was the moment the Wolf Knight decided she'd had enough.
The demon let out another guttural roar and prepared to attack, but Anita was faster. The Dark Sword flared with the combined fury of two elements: the freezing bite of ice and the razor‑sharp force of wind. The energies spiraled together around the blade like a miniature storm, and Anita lunged forward with a single, decisive strike.
This time, nothing resisted her.
For some reason, the demon's earth element had completely shut down. The slash carved through its body as effortlessly as slicing warm butter. The blade nearly cleaved the monster in half, and only the ice‑demon's freezing effect kept the flesh from splitting apart entirely. Even so, the blow was fatal.
The demon collapsed onto its back, staring blankly at the ceiling. Its chest barely rose—it was simply waiting for death to claim it.
Anita finally allowed herself to breathe. The Demonhunter Sword pulsed with energy, awarding her five full points for the kill. Her eyes lit up, and she immediately broke into her wild, slightly childish victory dance.
"Yes! Five whole points! I knew this thing was clan‑leader level!" she cheered inwardly.
But her triumph didn't last long.
A sudden blast of putrid gas erupted from the demon's body—an unholy stench like a rotting swamp, a dead troll, and a week‑old fermented orc boot all detonating at once. The smell hit Anita with such force that the monster‑meat stew churning in her stomach rebelled instantly. She dropped to all fours and vomited violently, just like she had on her last birthday after eating everything in sight and washing it down with every strong drink she could find.
"I'm not eating monster meat in the slums for a while…" she groaned, wiping her mouth. Then the stench hit her again, and she retched a second time.
She was still wiping her lips when a raspy voice spoke behind her.
"My experiment… my life's work… it failed after all…"
Anita's head snapped up.
Where the demon had lain moments before, a horribly twisted man now lay gasping. His skin was gray and cracked, his eyes sunken—but he was recognizable.
Watered Marek, the mage of the estate.
"Wait… you were the mage? You were that disgusting demon creature?" Anita asked, stunned.
"Watered Marek is my proper name… though my family name was originally Toth…" the man coughed, spitting blood.
"Ah. Well, sorry then," Anita muttered. "If I'd known, I wouldn't have killed you. Or—well—you're still alive, but that wound won't heal. The demon‑ice is the only thing holding your body together. Once it melts, you'll die instantly."
"So… this is the end for me," Marek whispered. "Whom do I have the honor of addressing? My killer? No… that sounds too harsh. I bear you no hatred. My… conqueror."
"Anita," she replied. "The Whirlwind. Wolf Knight of Wolfwood."
"I see…" Marek breathed. "How strong was I… as a monster?"
"About as strong as a Fire Demon Clan Leader."
"So… I reached the level of a Knight Captain…" He coughed again, blood staining his chin. "But… I couldn't control my mind. Even though I became so much stronger…"
Anita stared down at the dying mage, still trying to comprehend the grotesque transformation he had undergone. "What in the foul, reeking pits of the underworld did you do to yourself?" she asked as she slowly pushed herself to her feet, letting the Dark Sword drop to her side.
Watered Marek let out a ragged breath. "I mixed the genes and blood of gray imps with my own," he whispered. "I thought I had perfected the formula, but… I was wrong." A violent cough shook his body, and dark blood spilled from his lips.
"You experimented on yourself?" Anita's voice sharpened. "Have you completely lost your mind?"
"I did many foolish things," Marek admitted, his gaze drifting somewhere far beyond the ruined laboratory. "That's why the Royal Order of Mages expelled me. At first, I experimented only on criminals… but eventually, even that wasn't enough. I began abducting people from the slums. When the truth came out, I lost everything. My family had been a respected mage lineage for generations… and I destroyed our name forever. If my father were still alive, he'd spit in my face. The old man drank too much, but he had a good heart. The villagers loved him. Me… never."
"If they didn't love you, I'm sure they had their reasons," Anita replied dryly.
"Oh, they did," Marek said with a bitter smile. "I don't deny it. That's why I wanted to atone. I stopped abducting people. Instead… I injected the miracle serum into myself without any testing."
"What miracle?" Anita scoffed. "Look at what it turned you into."
"I truly believed it would work," Marek whispered. "It was my last chance. If I could create artificial super‑soldiers, my life's work would help win the war against the demon armies. And then…"
"You would have cleansed your family's name," Anita finished for him.
"Yes…" Marek breathed. "But it seems the Goddess never forgave my sins."
Anita crouched beside him, studying the cracked, stone‑like patches on his skin. "Still… your work wasn't entirely worthless. You're water‑elemental, yet you managed to use the earth element of the gray imps. Even if your experiment ended horribly, you weren't on the wrong path."
A faint, grateful smile appeared on Marek's twisted face. "Thank you. You have no idea how much your words mean to me."
"But you also implanted the gray imps' weakness into yourself," Anita continued. "The moment you switched from earth element to water, you lost your invulnerability. After that, one strike was all it took."
"I'm glad you're here with me… in my final moments," Marek whispered. "Thank you."
Anita sighed. "I really am sorry it turned out this way. If instead of experimenting on yourself with demon blood in the shadow of your village, you had come to Wolfwood… Young Wolf would've gladly experimented with you. On demons, I mean."
"Young Wolf?" Marek blinked. "I've never heard the name. Who is he?"
"The greatest mage in the world," Anita replied simply.
"I see…" Marek murmured. "Give him my regards. My wound… it's starting to hurt terribly. Please… grant me a quick end."
Anita rose to her feet and stepped over him. She drew her knife, the blade glinting with the sharpness of the wind element. "Any last words?"
"Good luck… against the demons," Marek whispered.
With one swift, clean motion, Anita slit his throat. The wind element ensured the death was instant and painless.
She wiped the blade and sheathed both her knife and the Dark Sword. "A real shame, Watered Marek," she murmured. "You and that old geezer Master Florian would've gotten along surprisingly well."
With that, the female Wolf Knight cast one final glance at the fallen mage, turned on her heel, and headed toward the exit.