Ren dragged himself across the floor, an arm outstretched like a man clawing from the grave. Stone crunched beneath his fingernails, slickening with blood—his own blood.
'That sword… I have to—'
Behind him, the wolf thrashed, screaming in volcanic pain.
The blade gleamed faintly where it had fallen near the stairs—dull, battered, and soaked in layers of dried blood. And yet, it felt radiant. Like it was calling out to him.
Nearby, Eva coughed weakly on the ground, her body trembling from the impact of the fall.
She watched Ren crawl. Watched the beast shudder and begin to steady itself.
Then—
Ren's right hand reached the sword. His fingers closed around the worn leather grip, slick and tacky beneath his palm. He stood. Just with one arm. Just with this one chance. The blade was heavier than it should have been. It dragged at his shoulder, at his spine, as if resisting him. He bared his teeth and hauled it upright, letting the tip scrape stone as he turned to face the beast.
Its single, blood-matted eye locked onto him. Black froth bubbled from its ruined jaw, lowering itself into a charging stance, back legs coiling beneath its cracked hide.
Ren's body screamed to collapse.
'Keep moving…'
But he didn't step back. He stepped forward.
'Don't stop…'
A step.
'You can't stop…'
Then another step.
'Not yet…'
The wolf growled low, its bulk shifting as it lunged. And so did he.
Ren broke into a sprint, dragging the sword behind him before his body remembered how to run. The weight vanished beneath instinct. He saw it—massive, unstoppable, a living catastrophe barreling toward him. And yet his own heartbeat thundered louder than it.
The wolf struck. Jaws yawned wide, rows of corroded teeth descending—
Ren threw himself backward and slid beneath it.
CLAMP
Its mouth snapped shut inches above his head. He hugged the sword to his chest and let momentum carry him. As soon as he cleared the beast's rear, he twisted and slammed the blade into the ground. Sparks burst as steel bit stone, anchoring him enough to halt his slide.
The wolf skidded to a stop, claws carving trenches as it pivoted, hauling its bulk around to finish what it started. But Ren was already moving. He surged forward, sword in hand, sprinting for its hind leg. He stumbled once—nearly fell—but momentum carried him on. He reached the leg.
Ren slammed his boots into it and leapt, knees jolting as he kicked off the inner joint and landed on its hip. The wolf bucked, an earthquake beneath him. He nearly lost his footing—nearly lost the blade—but he crouched low and climbed, scrambling up its back.
The beast howled, a seismic bellow that rippled through the chamber. Its shoulders rolled, spine twisting as it tried to shake him free. But Ren flattened himself, throwing one arm around a curved ridge of ragged bone along its spine—like clinging to a rock in an avalanche.
The sword nearly slipped from his grasp. He tightened his grip and dragged it close.
Another buck. Another wrenching twist.
Ren's body slammed hard against the beast's back, his jaw cracking against bone with a sharp burst of pain. Blood filled his mouth. He ignored it. He rose and sprinted again, boots striking smoother flesh now, closer to the nape.
'Keep going…Keep moving. If I fail here—'
His gaze flicked downward to Eva, coughing and barely able to move.
'She'll die.'
All of the sudden, the beast snapped its head to the roof.
Ren's body lurched, as he was launched into the air.
He spun midair, weightless, blood trailing behind him in crimson ribbons. The sword tore free from his grip, flipping end-over-end just above him.
He reached out with his left arm.
The one that wasn't there.
His heart dropped.
Memories flashed through him in broken fragments.
His mom's gentle touch.
Eva's soft voice.
And his utter hatred for The Mother.
Below him, the wolf reared back on its hind legs, maw gaping wide, one oozing black eye locked onto him with primal rage.
Then—
Pain, Ren's left shoulder detonated. Bone erupted from the ragged socket like a lightning strike, spiraling outward with terrifying speed. Before muscle, before nerves, before flesh could even begin to regenerate, skeletal fingers had already wrapped themselves around the falling hilt.
CLANK
Bare white bone locked onto leather, his right hand completing the grip after. Ren twisted midair, arms raised high overhead. The moment stretched out. Then gravity reclaimed him. He came down like a meteor.
IMPACT
The sword drove into the top of the wolf's skull.
CRUSH
Flesh and bone shattered. A geyser of black blood erupted upward as the wolf cried—a deafening, bone-rattling howl of pure agony. Its limbs flailed once. Then seized.
Its massive body collapsed, its eye rolling lifelessly into the back of its skull.
Ren landed atop its head, sword buried deep inside. He stayed there, breathing hard.
Staring at his hands, they were still shaking. Both of them—fingers vibrating violently against the leather-wrapped hilt, knuckles bone-white. His breath came shallow and hoarse.
"…Still shaking," He murmured. "It doesn't stop even after they're dead."
The wolf was defeated.
He was whole again.
The fight was over.
And yet—
His arms wouldn't stop shaking. Ren didn't have an answer for that.
"…Oh well, it doesn't matter anymore."
He exhaled and stood, wrenching the sword free.
Eva stood at a safe distance, staring at him in stunned silence.
Ren looked down at her—sword hanging loose in one hand, the other still unfinished.
And he smiled. A pure innocent smile.
"We did it, Eva."