Ghost Wolf

by Brandon Chen

  Yuri closed his hand, crushing the Bount’s windpipe remorselessly. The vial that Tanya clutched in her left hand slipped from her limp fingers and shattered on the ground, its rare contents pooling at Yuri’s feet. The boy released Tanya, tossing her corpse to the ground like an unwanted toy. He watched emotionlessly as a tear trickled from one of Tanya’s eyes, rolling down her cheek.

  Stop this madness. A voice called to him from the back of his mind, but Yuri ignored it. Turning around, he faced Malyios’s shimmering figure as it levitated beside the urn that served as his cell. A headache suddenly ravaged Yuri’s mind and he winced, reaching up and grabbing his head. Give me back my body! The boy tightened his jaw; the pain that detonated in his head had intensified tenfold.

  “Free me!” Malyios’s commanding voice boomed.

  Yuri could feel the layers of his mind denying his former self, which was buried deep within his consciousness. Within moments, the demanding voice that echoed in his head faded. The old Yuri had been weak. He did not deserve the Oblivion Claw’s power. The throbbing pain in the werewolf’s head also subsided and he slowly rose to his feet, feeling Malyios’s steady gaze watching his every movement.

  He hovered over Tanya’s corpse and picked up her cloak, sweeping it around his body. Most of his clothing had been incinerated. Yuri glanced over his shoulder at Malyios, staring at the Titan from the corner of his eye. “My father … where is he?”

  “That has nothing to—"

  “Tell me,” Yuri growled, his bitter aura filling the area. “You once showed me a dream of my father wandering through the graveyard of Oblivion. Where is he now?”

  Malyios was silent.

  “Is he still here in Oblivion?”

  “No. Your father participated in the Oblivion Trials and passed. He is currently in Heaven with your mother. Now, please, free me from these chains of confine—"

  Yuri’s face was hard as he stared at Malyios. “Our accord was fulfilled the moment that I stepped through the Oblivion Portal. I owe you nothing,” he said, a hint of anger glinting in his piercing gaze.

  “I am the one that granted you that power, you ungrateful bastard!” Malyios screamed. “How dare you defy me?”

  “You pretended to be my father to trick me into freeing you. You deceived me,” Yuri replied, turning his back to the enraged Titan. He clutched his hand into a tight fist before his face, feeling powerful magic flowing through his fingertips. “You can spend eternity within that urn, Malyios.” He walked out of the Oblivion Vault, blocking out Malyios’s enraged curses. If he willed it, no voice would reach him.

  Yuri inhaled deeply through his nose as he stepped out of the volcano, a dark mist swirling around the Oblivion Claws at his side. Before him towered the colossal monstrosity that had ambushed him and Tanya only an hour ago. The enormous creature let out a boisterous roar that quaked the earth, terrifying enough to shatter the courage of a thousand warriors. But Yuri did not falter, nor did his indifferent expression change.

  With every second that Yuri wielded this unholy power, he could feel a part of himself being sapped away. Soon, he understood, there would be nothing left except an empty shell. The Oblivion Claws, in exchange for limitless power, would consume his soul if he didn’t learn to control it.

  The monstrous being brought it fists crashing towards Yuri, eager to smash him to pieces. The boy brought both of his claws slashing downwards, dark magic rippling in the air. Raw power left his fingertips and a massive explosion detonated the creature’s chest, filling the air and sky with black energy that blazed with heat. Pieces of the colossal monster crashed to the molten earth around Yuri.

  The power that Yuri had just emitted was strong enough to level a mountain with ease. It was frightening, this degree of strength. What will you do with this limitless power? He could hear his old frightened self, still cowardly whispering in the back of his mind.

  Yuri smiled, finally willing to answer. “I’ll eradicate anyone in my path.”

  Any Price for Power

  The power that flowed through Yuri felt limitless. The Oblivion Claws granted him strength comparable to the gods. He’d torn the molten giant, which had been wandering near the entrance of the Oblivion Portal, to pieces. His ebony claws had shredded the elemental’s rocky hide apart as if it were paper. With his Sacred Treasure, he no longer feared anything, even in the ethereal realm of Oblivion.

  The white-haired boy ambled to the area where he had first landed in Oblivion, spotting the same purple markings engraved in the volcanic ground that he’d seen at Lichholme’s portal. Stepping into the center of the mysterious symbol, he felt himself being drawn upwards, as if he were being sucked into a void. A cold sensation flowed over him as he was whisked away from Oblivion, returning to the freezing temperatures of Lichholme.

  Yuri opened his eyes, absorbing his surroundings. He recognized the cave and the cloaked corpses that lay at his feet. Ordinarily, he would’ve felt elated after surviving a trip to Oblivion, even though his journey had been brief. But he currently felt no emotion. Even if he tried to appear euphoric, he knew that it wouldn’t be genuine. He felt indifferent about everything except the mission he’d set for himself: go to Malyssa’s encampment and exterminate the vampires that had slaughtered his friends. Saving Terias and the engineer had been pushed to the back of his mind. Right now, he thirsted for the taste of vengeance.

  The boy strode out of the cave and found an army of at least a thousand werewolves loitering in the snowy cold. They raised their heads at the sound of approaching footsteps, and seemed disappointed when Yuri emerged from the grotto. The beasts had come to await their master’s return. They must be Tanya’s werewolves, monstrosities that would be set upon Escalon’s innocents. Yuri licked his lips, his violet eyes flashing sadistically. I’ll destroy them.

  The werewolves sensed a murderous aura radiating from Yuri, all of them dropping to their battle positions as they bared their fangs at the lone boy. To their surprise, the human’s body began to change. Yuri transformed into a werewolf that was larger than ordinary, matching the size of Faelen. He had white fur that blew in the thrashing winds of Lichholme, and his eyes retained their violet color. “A thousand enemies,” Yuri boomed, looming over his opponents. “A perfect warm-up.”

  One of the beasts pounced at him, indicating to the rest of his comrades that it was time to attack. The werewolf army charged at Yuri, but the lone monster was not worried. He raced forward with triple the speed of an ordinary werewolf, his claws slicing across his enemies. Bellies and throats were ripped open, each blow powerful enough to tear a body apart.

  Tanya’s werewolves didn’t stand a chance. They rushed straight into a massacre. But they fought Yuri anyway, their frenzy triggered by the potent scent of their leader’s blood on the boy’s clothes.

  Yuri could feel the werewolves’ untamed rage as they slashed at him, but that didn’t make them any more formidable. His movements were too quick for them, with his senses augmented tenfold by the Oblivion Claws. His every physical attribute had improved, especially his strength.

  The Ghost Wolf pounced over one of his enemies, grabbing the creature by the jaw and snapping its head back with a forceful crack. Landing behind the collapsing beast, Yuri lashed out and sank his magical claws into the chest of another monster. He ripped his arm to the side, tearing out a bloody chunk of the werewolf’s body, causing the opponent to spiral to the snowy ground.

  It only took Yuri thirty minutes to massacre a thousand werewolves, their corpses scattered in the ichor-soaked snow. He panted, watching their unmoving bodies, hoping that one of them would get up so that he could continue fighting. His blood boiled from the heat of battle and he could feel his claws twitching, eager for more carnage. The Oblivion Claws hungered for more souls, and he would feed his beloved Sacred Treasure.

  Looking off into the distance, Yuri sniffed the air and caught the scent of a gathering of vampires, located forty miles away. Shaking with anticipation, the we
rewolf’s lips curved into a nefarious grin. “A perfect place to test my new power.”

  ***

  Terias felt sapped of energy and hope as he lay on the cold floor of his cell. He had been thrust into a tiny chamber with dozens of other blood-bags. They were well clothed for Lichholme’s frigid weather and the vampires fed them fairly. But at night, the blood-bags endured a terrible burden. Over two pints of blood were extracted from the prisoners every night.

  But Malyssa had given Terias special treatment; she personally came into the cell every night and took his blood. She made sure to leave enough to keep him alive, but Terias was always left unconscious. He constantly felt dizzy, as if the world were spinning around him. Even now, his stomach knotted as he lay on the cold floor of the cell. He shivered and softly licked his lips, which tasted of bile.

  The weakened knight had his head in Lena’s lap. She stroked his head gently. Every day, she tried to reassure him that things would be okay, that one day someone would come to rescue them, that this hell wasn’t permanent. But Terias didn’t know how much more torture he could endure. He had only been a blood-bag for several days, but already he looked pale as a ghost and was so feeble that he could barely even move on his own. Most of his days were spent in darkness, resting in a desperate attempt to recover, only to have his blood sapped once again each night.

  Lena could see the despair in Terias’s dark eyes. The young man didn’t even have the energy to mourn his deceased mentor. She hadn’t heard him talk since the second day they’d been in this prison. Biting her lower lip, she wondered if help would ever come. There were no more human settlements in Lichholme, and the only civilization that might have the strength to stand against the vampires was the Frozarians. The chances of them shattering Malyssa’s forces were slim. Lena had seen that there were thousands of vampires here. Malyssa called this place an encampment, but Lena thought it was more of a city than anything else. Infiltrating such a place would require a legion of skilled warriors.

  Lena lowered her gaze, tears welling in her eyes. No one would be coming after them. After all, the only comrades that she’d had in Lichholme had all perished by Malyssa’s hand. On their first day as blood-bags, Terias had promised her that his other friends would come to save them. But that was a pointless hope that he’d fabricated in his deluded mind in an attempt to cope with this horrific reality.

  The other people in the cell had already accepted their inescapable fate. Several of them had committed suicide since Lena and Terias had arrived, using their fingernails to tear out chunks of stone from the floor. They would then use the shards as weapons to inflict wounds upon themselves until they died. Lena had originally tried to stop them, but the more time that she spent within these chambers, the more she realized that perhaps hope truly was out of reach. Perhaps death was the only way to escape this hellish prison.

  Lena closed her eyes, remembering Twinklehart’s face as clearly as if she’d seen it yesterday. She missed her mentor, and all the gnomes of Etaon. But like the other Iradians that she’d accompanied to Lichholme, they had perished in this perilous land. Would her time to join them come soon, or was she destined to suffer the rest of her days in these chambers?

  The distraught woman glanced up at the sound of a metal bar sliding. Malyssa stood outside of the cell, her eyes on Terias’s unconscious body. Her emotionless gaze swept across the room, and the prisoners all cringed as they felt the vampire’s terrifying stare boring into them. She finally stopped at Lena, a crooked smile flickering across her face. “Do you find me cruel?” she asked, her hand on the bandaged stump of her dismembered arm.

  Lena said nothing.

  “This is simply our nature,” Malyssa said. “Just as you humans breed cows and harvest their meat, we breed you so that we can extract your blood. It’s intriguing to see how shocked you are when you realize that you are being treated no better than a farm animal. Because that is what you are now, an animal, with no purpose but to feed my people.” The vampire grinned as Lena dipped her head, on the brink of tears. “Don’t be upset. This isn’t your fault. Nature put you below us on the food chain.” As she reached to her belt for the jingling keys to the cell, she heard a heavy bang.

  “There has been a breach in our southern wing!” a voice shouted. “H-He smashed through the wall and has killed over a hundred of our troops already!”

  “What?” Malyssa exclaimed, her eyes wide with disbelief as she stared at an exhausted vampire that had rushed into the blood-bag prison. The creature was covered in blood … vampire blood. “He? Is it only one person?”

  “Yes! It’s a Ghost Wolf, one from the legends,” the vampire cried out.

  “A Ghost Wolf?” Malyssa echoed. She knew the tale. It was said that a werewolf, fused with the darkest magic of Oblivion, would become a Ghost Wolf, achieving levels of power that exceeded all other supernatural beings. In all of history, only one Ghost Wolf had been recorded, and it was one of Terrador’s deities. Never before had a mortal obtained such strength.

  At first, Malyssa contemplated denouncing the messenger as a liar. The chances of encountering a Ghost Wolf were nearly impossible. But then she felt a heinous aura that was so filled with hate that her body started to quiver on its own. Sweat formed on her brow and she clenched her teeth, frustration on her face. She also recognized the scent of the intruder, but could hardly believe that it was him. “Gather everyone. We’ll need our full force to bring down the Ghost Wolf.”

  ***

  Yuri dashed towards Malyssa’s settlement with all haste, his confident gaze trained on the high walls of the encampment. He swiped his Oblivion Claws to launch forth a magical projectile of darkness that shattered through the barriers of the city. Debris rained down on defenseless vampires, squashing them beneath boulders of stone. The white werewolf charged forth, his claws sinking into the snow as he sprinted towards the city.

  Vampire soldiers, clad in shining armor, flooded through the gaping hole in the city’s barriers. They raised their steel swords as they prepared to engage the sole attacker. The creatures flashed across the snowy plains, moving even faster than Tanya’s werewolves had. But their speed meant nothing to the Ghost Wolf.

  Yuri jammed his ebony claws into a vampire’s chest plate with such speed that the monster didn’t have time to react. Before the enemy knew what was happening, Yuri’s dark nails had pierced straight through metal and entered flesh. Skewering the vampire with his cursed claws, a burst of magic channeled through his forearm into his fingertips. A beam of black energy discharged from the tips of his nails, exploding out of the vampire’s back and engulfing a dozen of his comrades, incinerating them instantly.

  The other warriors stared at Yuri’s tremendous power with disbelief, unable to fathom how quickly the werewolf had eradicated a dozen vampires. But the Ghost Wolf wasn’t going to give them a moment to marvel at his strength. He bolted forward, his body stretching into a blur as he shot across the battlefield, felling enemy after enemy with fierce blows that struck his opponents down.

  The snow became coated with blood as lifeless bodies crumpled to the ground, collapsing beneath Yuri’s frenzy. A vampire swiped at Yuri’s face in a desperate attempt to strike the werewolf, but he ducked and brought his nails scraping up the creature’s chest and finally across his face. Watching as his final opponent dropped to the snow, Yuri saw that the remainder of the vampire force had retreated behind the walls of their city, hoping to regroup.

  Yuri’s heart was pounding, satisfied by the agility and talent of his enemies. His mouth twitched at the sea of bodies that lay sprawled at his feet, but he said nothing. Trudging through the bloodstained snow, he continued towards the city. He would continue his onslaught until this entire encampment was razed to the ground. He felt that he was being somewhat merciful to the vampire race. Rather than condemning them all to extinction for the atrocity that they’d committed at Etaon, he would only annihilate Malyssa’s city.

  The Ghost Wolf stormed throu
gh the city’s streets, a single slash of the Oblivion Claws able to crumble an entire street of buildings. The dark magic that surged from his claws ignited several wooden structures, causing them to burst into flames. Soon a conflagration swallowed the southern district of Malyssa’s city, lighting up the area like a blazing torch in Lichholme’s dark night.

  Yuri moved through the scorched city, slaughtering every vampire in his path. Whether they were children, elderly, or soldiers didn’t matter. They were all monsters, and he was relentless as he dealt doom to his enemies. He could feel a twinge of pain in his head, knowing that his past self was desperately struggling to regain control of Yuri’s body. This body isn’t yours anymore, Yuri. It belongs to Oblivion.

  “Aren’t you satisfied that you’ve finally obtained the power you’ve always dreamed of?” Yuri’s corrupted voice cackled as he stepped over the bloody cadaver of a slain vampiric child. “Never again will you feel powerless! Never again will you be too feeble, too late, too incapable to save those that you hold dear to you.”

  Please, stop this! This is not what I wanted! The true Yuri’s voice was filled with dismay, his pleading cries echoing in the Ghost Wolf’s mind.

  But the werewolf did not respond as it continued deeper into the city. Bloodlust usurped his mind as he attacked every living thing in his path. Piles of mutilated corpses towered around the malicious monster. The boy in Yuri’s mind continued to scream for the beast to stop this carnage, but it did not heed the pleading cries.