The Luso bloodline was the oldest and most revered werewolf family in all of Friki. Max’s ancestors were the first to organize the disparate werewolf clans, and they were at the helm both during the ages they fought against vampires, and when the truce was made with the ruling Rathegalia family. If you were a Luso, you were werewolf royalty. Thus, by extension, being able to call themselves a Lusonian made all the werewolves feel as if they were a part of greatness. Max knew how to be a leader, and he knew this gained him more ruling favor with the masses. He also knew what they wanted, and at that moment, they wanted my and Astor’s heads on sticks.

When we reached the center of the arena and the standing room, only sections were filled, Max entered the circle to thunderous applause. He walked around, greeting the Lusonians with a raised fist in a demonstrative fashion. As he paraded about, Astor leaned over to me. He was clearly weak from the beating Max gave him minutes ago, but he summoned the strength to inform me that it appeared the first werewolf opponent was going to be Chandler Luso, Max’s brother. Chandler was on the front lines, alongside Max and the rest of the Luso family, when Astor and the Rathegalias joined them to fight the evil warlord. They were not personally acquainted, but Astor said Chandler was a great fighter. He was an elder sibling to Max, wiser in his older age, but Chandler was the beta wolf in the pack, because Max was exceptional. Nevertheless, that did not mean Chandler was to be taken lightly at all.

Astor continued by telling me the Lusos were known for their strength; that even in their human form, they were stronger than some vampires and most other creatures. He warned me to watch out for their grappling, because if they got a hold of me, it would mean severe punishment would follow. He also said that Max allowed his momentum to carry him with each power punch. It was something observed while getting pummeled to the ground earlier. Astor bet that Chandler probably did the same, since families trained together, and he did not see any elder werewolves present, meaning the Lusos most certainly oversaw all the combat lessons. The fact Astor was calculating weaknesses while suffering a massive beat-down boggled my mind. His warrior acumen had been impressive up to that moment, but he amazed me once again.

However, his physical frailty stood out even more. Astor was already in a weakened state before we left his home. Then, he was bludgeoned by Max, and he grew even weaker. Blood leaked from his nose and mouth, and I could tell his vampire healing powers were not going to repair him fast enough to fare well in battle. I jokingly offered to take the first fight if he didn’t mind, and for the first time I saw a smile slightly creep on his face. He told me to have at it, so I helped him back out of harm’s way, and stepped up.

When the crowd saw me approach, they grew quiet. Max turned to me, and said he admired my readiness to die. He told me I had a true warrior’s spirit, and then explained the rules. Everything was legal, and if I won, I got to sit a turn while Astor fought. We would continue to rotate, until we were both dead. Then, he walked out towards the middle of the arena, and yelled to everyone that the first match would be between me and his brother, Chandler Luso. The Lusonians erupted in adulation for their werewolf royalty, and when they did, Chandler walked up to Max and embraced him. Next, as Max departed, he waved his arms up and down, inciting the crowd. Their cheers echoed in the night sky, as if we were in a sound chamber. It was deafening, and the more Chandler riled them up, the more rowdy the crowd became.

I looked on, partially in amazement, but also in anticipation of what might happen. I clocked potential exit routes, in case something went awry and we needed to leave suddenly. Unfortunately, the only way we were getting out of there was if I flew us to safety. To check with Astor, I turned around and made eye contact with him. Then, I gestured up towards the sky with my head. He shook his own “no”, though. We were to face the werewolves, and whatever our fates were, we were to accept them. Honoring my vampire friend’s wishes, I nodded in agreement, and turned back around to Chandler. I was just in time to witness his transformation.

As he became more charged up, I could sense he was about to shapeshift. His body didn’t shake, he didn’t convulse, and he didn’t scream. His skin didn’t rip to shreds, his bones didn’t crack, and he didn’t bleed everywhere. No, the transformation was quite smooth and natural. His hands, feet, and limbs grew, as did the rest of his body. Claws formed, his head formed into a wolf’s, and his body grew more dense with muscle. Gray hair was everywhere, with dark gray streaks here and there. Chandler’s eyes were also black, but his white pupils never lost track of me. Finally, when the transformation was done, not fifteen seconds later, Chandler towered over me. I tried to size him up to gage distance and reach, but before I knew it, he attacked.

The werewolf almost decapitated me with one blow. I was able to duck and move out of the way, though. The crowd “oooh”d and “aaah”d in excitement, and I could see Max laughing and clapping his hands. Chandler was wasting no time pressing forward, however, so I had to concentrate solely on him.

The werewolf clawed at me with both hands, forcing me on the constant defensive. I was dodging and parrying his arms the best I could. He was just so damn strong. The Leviathan was powerful when it hit me with its necks and smashed into me with its heads. Well, the impact from absorbing Chandler’s blows when I blocked felt the same, even though the werewolf was not over twenty feet tall, and weighed a fraction less. His power was alarming, and I knew I had to use my quickness and land precision strikes. So, that’s exactly what I did.

When Chandler would rush in, I began accelerating to close the gap faster than he could recover. Then, once inside his guard, I would unleash furious hooks and uppercuts. I had the element of surprise, as none of the Lusonians, not even Max, realized I was a hyper-being. Thus, when I hit Chandler and rocked him to his core, causing him to stumble backwards before I jumped in with a flying knee that sent the werewolf to the ground in pain, everyone in attendance gasped. Max was flabbergasted, as were the other werewolf warriors. They did not expect me to land a hit, let alone send their werewolf royalty crashing to the ground. That was when Max yelled at Chandler in an ancient tongue I could not decipher. He was obviously angered and embarrassed, and I take it he was demanding his brother get up and finish me. And so that was what my opponent tried to do.

Chandler rose to his feet, furious. He roared, and charged forward again. When I accelerated this time, he slowed his progress enough to grab me. From there, he leaned in to try and bite my head off. I raised my arm to shield myself, and Chandler bit it. Blood sprayed everywhere and I yelled in pain, but I gathered myself, and lodged a knee into his ribs. I felt one break on contact, and that loosened his grip. I fired multiple more shots to his body, cracking more ribs, breaking them. Next, when Chandler was hunched over, I placed my hands behind his neck in a Muy Thai grip, and smashed my knee into his snout. This sent Chandler to the deck again. I was successful in freeing myself from his clutches, but I paid the price for my mistake. My arm was deeply punctured and ripped open. I stepped back and grabbed it, trying to ease the pain, but it was shooting straight up my arm into my side. To make myself feel better, I thought at least I was standing, while Chandler had fallen. But then Chandler re-emerged.

When the werewolf stood up, the crowd erupted in cheers. Max pounded the wood frame of the wall on the other side of the arena, encouraging his brother to fight on. Meanwhile, I looked back at Astor, and saw he was still sitting with his head back against the wall and his eyes closed. My companion was resting, while I was battling a vicious monster. It was great to know I could count on him to be my cheering section.

Chandler attacked again, and this time he was striking with all of his might. The impact from his claws was greater than before, and since I was stumbling from the force of them, I was not able to time my blocks as well and employ the same accuracy. Before, I was able to have my arms hit Chandler’s wrists, avoiding the nails. At that point, he was hitting my arms with his claws, and the gashes were adding up. Blood poured out of my wounds, and I knew I could not handle his onslaught much longer. Chandler was much too fast and powerful for me to remain defensive. Then I remembered Astor’s words. He said Max allowed momentum to carry him through his punches, and when I observed Chandler, he did the same thing. Having found a weakness, I was now able to make my move.

When I had an opportunity, I created space between Chandler and me. As predicted, he quickly closed the gap, and launched ferocious strikes with his claws. Using his momentum against him, I timed my maneuver and jumped back, allowing him to stumble forward. Then, when he was off balance, I planted my feet in the ground and launched myself with full force at Chandler. In mid-air, I extended my leg and blasted my foot into the werewolf’s neck, crushing his windpipe and spine into the back of his throat. The contact was solid, and I immediately knew I felled him. Finally, my enemy dropped to his knees, his head wobbling from having no neck support, and plopped down, dead in the dirt.

I stood before Max, panting heavily. The night air filled my lungs, as rage filled the pack leader. He punched a hole in the arena wall, and I could tell he wanted to murder me. However, I had won my match, and it was now Astor’s turn. Max yelled at my vampire friend to get up, and approach the center of the arena to die. However, Astor remained motionless, ignoring him. Max roared again for the vampire to move, and this time Astor budged. I walked towards him, and noticed he was as calm as ever. I looked in his eyes, and asked him if he was alright. He nodded he was fine, and told me no matter what happened, to not interfere in his battle. I told him he was in no condition to fight a werewolf, and begged him to let me fly us to safety. He shook his head “no” once more, though, patted me on my shoulder as a friend, and then moved to the center of the arena, awaiting his opponent.

‍