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Dark Fate, Chapter 64
🕑 Added 2021-07-03 01:00:32 +0000 UTCChapter 64 – Culling the Pack
The alpha staggered back as he dropped his axe, hand at his throat, trying to stop the bleeding. One of his pack cried out, attempting to cast a healing spell. Unfortunately for him, he was making a production out of it, reciting the words of a prayer to some god or power that I didn’t care enough about to listen to their name.
I pointed at him, and a [Blood Bolt] flew from my fingertip, without any need for an invocation or calling out the names of the skills I was using. The blood-red orb struck the healer in the face, taking him from his feet. He did not get back up.
Not that I expected him to, of course. After all, my base damage for a [Blood Bolt] against a living creature would be enough to kill anyone without a Constitution greater than 13 in a single shot. With a critical hit? Well, you’d need at least a 41 CON to survive that. Headshots were definitely crits, on most creatures.
Seeing their alpha wounded and one of their own killed with a single spell caused the pack to do what pack animals always did, when attacked. I might be scary, but they still had the numbers, and they hadn’t seen enough of my power to know how outclassed they were. It started with one of the wolves losing control of their emotions, and howling. Soon, they all howled, and their bodies changed into those of standing wolves.
“Focus on defense, kill those you need to. If any of them submit, then they can live.”
Orders given, I slashed out with my blade, but the Alpha avoided it, going down to all fours as he changed into his hybrid form. Shifting may not have completely healed the Alpha, but it did seal the wound across his throat, so he wasn’t actively gushing blood. I hadn’t expected the Alpha to be able to concentrate enough on anything but not dying to shift, and so my blow caught nothing but air.
For a moment, just a moment, there was a gap in my defenses. But a moment was too long when facing an Alpha Werewolf. The wolf pounced, driving through me, and taking me to the ground.
Like with the fight against the final boss of the mall dungeon, just because I didn’t take damage from an attack didn’t mean I could ignore the raw kinetic energy it put off. I needed more mass for that, or something to make me immovable. Of course, either of those came with their own problems. More mass was obvious, but being immovable? Well, sometimes it was far more beneficial to ride out an attack, letting it reposition you, rather than getting pinned down by it.
Either way, I now found myself on my back, and the alpha gnawing on my arm, trying desperately to rip it to shreds. Unfortunately, his teeth didn’t meet the almost three thousand damage needed to break through my Shadow Armor, and it certainly didn’t have any armor penetration. Foolish wolf just relied on strength and ferocity to win his battles, and didn’t bother trying to cover his weaknesses.
I decided that an example needed to be made. The wolfman was thrashing, trying to remove my forearm from his mouth, but I jammed it forward, propping his mouth open, and preventing him from trying to bite anything more important. With my other hand I let go of my scythe, since I couldn’t use it while I was on my back and fighting one-handed, anyways.
It wouldn’t do for the alpha to not know how badly he had misjudged before he died. His strength was less than mine, but not by far. As I slowly pushed myself up off the ground, and into a standing position, I saw the alpha’s eyes go wide. He clearly was not used to getting overpowered when it came to raw strength!
That look of shock became one of horror as I undid my glamour, revealing my true form. The alpha started punching, kicking, thrashing, trying to force my arm out of his mouth, but it was deep enough that he couldn’t get it back out without unhinging his jaw, or ripping out his teeth. Sucked to be him, because I wasn’t letting him go.
Spreading my wings wide, so that I could be certain that all eyes were on me, I held up my free hand, and coated that arm in hellfire, careful not to damage my clothes in the process. The alpha yelped as my hand moved, slowly and deliberately, towards his face. He tried to jerk away, but I held the arm in his mouth steady as a rock. He tried to grab my burning arm, and force it back, but all that happened was him howling in pain as the hellfire burned his flesh.
My open hand closed, with two fingers out, like a peace sign. Or, more appropriately, like something out of a Three Stooges skit. Slowly, inexorably, they moved towards the alpha’s face. The last thing he saw was the green flames just before I gouged them into his eyes, and the howls became true screams.
Pulling my hand away, I allowed the wolfman to grab at where his eyes used to be while I simply snapped my fingers to douse the hellfire on my arm. Not needing him to remain still any longer, it was time to remove my arm from his jaws. Of course, the same issue that made it impossible for the wolf to pull off my arm also hindered me extracting that arm from his maw. Fortunately, I had a solution in mind.
Gripping his lower jaw with my free hand, I pulled, as hard as I could with an effective strength of over 100. The wolfman’s screams became shriller, but they cut out altogether as I ripped the jaw loose from my arm, leaving it dangling by a couple straps of skin from the rest of the wolf’s face. The werewolf was not dead (though no doubt he wished he was), but simply fell unconscious due to the pain and shock. I let him drop to the ground, like a sack of meat.
Looking around, I could see awe and fear in the eyes of the wolves. Every one of them that wasn’t actively fighting was staring at me. They had all been hopped up on their own superiority, as being werewolves who were bigger and stronger than the rest. And their alpha had been the biggest and the baddest of the lot. But now? Now, I had just proved to them that they were merely slightly bigger fish in a much larger pond.
Of course, the alpha wasn’t the only one on the ground. Five others had all been dispatched, including one that had been trying to rush me from the side while I had been focused on the lead wolf. That one had the telltale signs of being blasted with holy flame. Two others looked to have been cut in pieces, while the last two had a very bad case of being absolutely beat to death. I would have to reward the girls later.
Turning my attention to the pack, I infused magic into my voice as a simple spell drew my scythe back into my hand. “You mongrels thought that you were strong. You are weak. Pathetic. But I can show you what you lack. Any of you who dispute how weak you all are, come and try me. You can come all at once, you know. It won’t make a difference.
“But know this! If you stand against me, you will suffer before you die, as your leader did. Kneel as a slave, or die as a dog. CHOOSE!”
There were twenty-seven wolves still standing at the moment. Seventeen of them took that step. None of them were women. That was to be expected. In an ‘alpha male’ group like this, even if the women were fighters, they weren’t likely to try and fight me for dominance. A couple of the men, as well, held back, and I could see cool cunning on their face, rather than bestial rage. They were the smart ones, the ones that would make sure they came out alive, either way the fight went.
Those seventeen, however, all charged at me at once, weapons held high as they howled in rage. It was the reckless bravery of berserkers, lost to the bloodlust and the rage. They knew no fear, and that made them dangerous. Well, at least against foes on their level. I was something else entirely.
My silvered scythe slashed through the air as I ducked and weaved through the melee. It was not as impressive as it sounded. There were too many wolves, too close together, with too little actual training. They were all trying to beat me with their clubs, or cut me with their blades, but they did not know how to work together, and kept getting in each other’s’ way, spoiling their chances for a critical hit, that might actually do some damage to me.
One by one and two by two, the wolves fell. Not dead, of course. No, I left them screaming in pain as the silver burned their skin, halting their regeneration, forcing them to hold their entrails in, or desperately holding the stump of a severed limb. Even worse (for them), wounds caused by silver interfered with a werewolf’s natural ability to shift, making it a force of will to shift while the wound persisted. They were too angry, and in too much pain, to focus and shift back.
After ten had fallen, the sober realization cut through the heat haze of rage and adrenaline. They were not the top dogs, not any longer. They broke, and tried to run, but my girls were there, blocking them in, just long enough for my scythe to swing around and impale a wolf, hook his spine, and sling him to the ground with a squelching thud.
Barrier spells slammed into place, created by Rachel. The six remaining wolves were trapped in the middle. With me. They shifted, tried to beg for their lives. I ignored them, claiming their heads. They were too brash and too stupid for me to use as anything but chained attack dogs. Worthless.
That left ten wolves still alive, however. All ten shifted back to their human forms, and kneeled. They knew that I was too strong for them. They might be cowards, or just smart enough to join the winning side. It would take time for me to figure out which was which, but they were at least smart enough that I could work with them, and use them for something other than shock troops. Eventually, I would need cannon fodder, but until then, I wanted quality over quantity.
I belted out a command, and the ten moved, all kneeling in a line, just feet away from where the still unconscious alpha was lying, bleeding on the concrete. I ended his suffering by removing his head from his shoulders with my scythe. Two of the women flinched at that. Perhaps they were the alpha’s women?
One by one, I went down the line, and attached Tier 1 Slave Collars to their necks. They tried to object, of course, once they realized what it was, but at my order they fell silent. Soon, all ten were added to the ranks of my property.
As I expected, they were all werewolves, all between levels 20 and 25. Not as strong as the late alpha, but strong enough that, compared to the normal civilians who were in the level 5 to 10 range, they were akin to gods. Which easily explained why they were so full of themselves.
That didn’t matter now. They were broken, humbled. Tamed. At least for the moment. I didn’t doubt that there would be challenges later, as the smart ones tried to push the boundaries of their collars, and find out where the loopholes were. But, for now, they were whipped dogs, brought to heel.
I took a deep breath. “Now, lets see what additions I need for my new house.”
Comments
Jonas
Thanks for the great chapter
Demian Buckle
Thank you for the Chapter.
Andy Ammeter
Thanks for the chapter
Colin Dearing
A nice reminder that powerful compared to some doesn't really mean anything when meeting much more powerful...
Dwight Brown
Thank you.
Grant
Ha, sounds like the mc has some guard dogs for his home. Wonder how they were able to grow in levels so quickly. I am also curious if these werewolves are made through breeding, bite, or either one.
Sanginius
Very Nice Thank You.
