Two were brave, or foolish to confront him head on. Mammon could still smell the stench from the third one who had run away. A lot of things had indeed changed in Vargr. Cowardice roamed, it seemed, and it sorely tarnished the tradition of claiming one's mate. Or perhaps he had been the smart one, this runaway wolf. It was of no consequence — they still dared to make a claim.

The remaining two circled him, their lips curling, dancing around their fangs, while drool fell on the ground. The hunger for a soul blatantly put on a show. One wolf was on each side, their intention to attack at the same time already exposed. Young lustful wolves were inexperienced in battle. At court, they drilled this recklessness out of new recruits by putting them through various missions and forced them to think. Only the cunning ones survived.

The rags these wolves wore confirmed they were vagrant. Maybe shunned for similar audacities? Whatever had possessed them to attack the Grand Marshal of Hell’s court had certainly thrown all reason to the wind. No matter how young they were, this could still see them executed for treason.

Mammon’s awareness was blurring with concern. Even now, he could still scent Haru. Where he had sent him was not too far, but how to know if he was alright? If he was safe? Would he even heed his warning and go inside the manor?

Stop. Focus. Think.

Haru’s safe.

To end this quickly, Mammon knew that using his full power would be the best option… but with Haru still so close, he hesitated. In the next instant, his attackers decimated his range of choices. The wolves lunged, but before Mammon’s very eyes, the smaller wolf disappeared while the large one kept his charge. In the next instant, Mammon felt the sting across his chest as something sharp tore his uniform open. They drew first blood. Four long cuts. From claws? How did he not even see it? That speedy mongrel.

Mammon was smaller, lighter than even the smallest of wolves. From a wolf’s perspective, he did not differ from a tall human. He swiftly positioned himself away from what he suspected could still be a pincer attack, but he still had no eyes on the smaller wolf. The larger wolf, however, Mammon saw very well. He was slower, bearing the power to cause significant damage, while his smaller friend used his speed to potentially disorient their opponent long enough until he landed his fatal blow. Confirming his thoughts, again Mammon felt another scrape; another rip, this time on his back. This time deeper. A clever combo, these two.

The larger wolf’s charge ended as he swung heavily, and as expected, he was slow. Mammon dodged it with ease, though his black hand went for the wolf’s ribs. This one was just too big to miss. Not a second later, he cursed, glancing at his bloodied claw; these were just stray kids. He wanted to avoid bloodshed where possible. Remaining on the defence, however, was no longer an option, lest he give them the chance to pursue Haru. If he could still scent Haru, so could they. Again, the thought of ending this as fast as possible pounded.

The younglings seemed determined to continue and circled him again; the larger one holding the gash on the side of his stomach, but Mammon kept his eye on the smaller one. He was the one who eluded him with his speed.

Mammon straightened himself, and gathered his focus. This wasn’t like him. If the Grand Marshal of Hell’s court lost this bout to these younglings… He would hand in his resignation to Lucious the very next day.

Focus. Haru wasn’t close. He was safe.

Enough of this.

Mammon's transformation was almost instant. His silky white fur contrasted with the blood on his chest. Only his left forearm remained black, the one the angel had cut off and then helped restore (*). It seemed tenuous, fragile even, as though it was made of smoke, but the blood that dripped from it already proved otherwise. His silver eyes sharpened, and his face distorted into something between that of a human and a wolf.  As he predicted, it halted their advance. By their perplexed glances at Mammon and at each other, the younglings had no clue who or what they faced. Clearly too young to have heard of the first half-wolf of Vargr. He hoped this would be enough to spook them.

It wasn’t. Not for the big wolf. While his smaller friend stood frozen, perhaps attempting to reason the scene before him, the giant shook his beastly head, and with a decisive growl, he got on all fours and leapt. He was fast this time. He seemed hungry and lacking choices. Mammon blinked a few times. If his eyes weren’t deceiving him, the wolf actually seemed… bigger?

There could be no more chances. Mammon met the charge head on, his muscles bulging when he grabbed hold of the wolf’s neck and belt buckle and used the wolf’s very momentum to throw and crash him against the wall of the nearest building. He went through it on impact, demolishing brick and mortar in his wake. Mammon wondered how the rest of the building didn’t collapse on top of him.

Spotting the smaller wolf still hostage to his own dismay, Mammon approached the hole to inspect the fallen giant. There he was, his back propped against another wall, head down and occupying a large part of what may have once been someone’s living room. He was a steamroller, this one. This minor bump would not deter him for long. The silver wolf crouched until he faced the unconscious wolf and activated his Risúl. This would ensure things quieted down for a bit.

He came out to find the smaller wolf missing from where he had been. So he recovered his nerve.

Mammon's wolf's form enhanced his senses, but more especially his scenting. This time, it wasn’t too difficult to track the shifty little fellow. Before he could land another one of his sneaky blows, Mammon snatched the wolf’s neck, arresting his movement single-handedly. Even though the wolf was smaller than the average wolf, he was still a good few centimetres taller than Mammon. It was with little concern that the Grand Marshal forced him to his knees so that their eyes could meet. Mammon couldn’t resist the satisfying feeling the alarmed confusion growing in the young wolf’s eyes brought him. After all, he was witnessing what his little mind could only deem as impossible. It had to overcrowd his yet developing intellect.

“Wh-what did you do?!” He snarled. He was trying for confidence, but Mammon felt every tremble under his grasp. 

“Which do you mean, friend? I’ve done a few things here.” The silver wolf tapped some dust off his ruined trousers with his free hand.

“That thing from your eyes — that wasn’t Risúl. A-and why do you look like that?!!”

“Mm, an excellent observation, though I'd recommend caution. Doesn’t my small snout give it away?” Mammon used his index to tap on the tip of his black nose.

“You-You’re not a wolf! W-what are you?!”

It was astonishing. To coordinate an attack without even knowing who they came for. Ah, that’s right. Haru’s scent must deceived them so.

“Mm. What would you say I am, friend?” Mammon cocked his head as he squeezed his hold until the wolf groaned and scraped Mammon’s forearm, drawing more blood.

 “A fucking freak!!” The wolf blurted between strangled puffs, his eyes never leaving Mammon’s.

Mammon remembered that glare. It was disgust mixed with fear. Disgust of the unknown. Fear of change. Vargr had never spared him anything else. To them, even to younger generations who only knew to follow the pack, he would be nothing more than a freak. He chuckled at it, thinking how delusional Chief Lobos and Faolán were of their own clan.

Mammon slapped the young wolf across the face. Perhaps more than delivering pain, it stunned the wolf to stillness. Mammon then pulled him closer, and hissed, “this freak will teach you a valuable lesson before you consider chasing another’s mate ever again.”

“Wh… what are you talking… aaargh—” Another slap. This time backhanded, and the wolf held his burning cheek. “Stop doing that!!! What is wrong with you?!”

“Is it not clear? This is what disciplining looks like.”

“Disci— so what, you’re going to flip me and start smacking my bum next?!”

“Tempting. But I’d rather continue this process until you forsake your claim.” Mammon raised his hand.

“WAIT, wait, wait!” The young wolf pleaded and Mammon halted halfway. “Forsake what claim?! What are you even talkin—”

The wolf went quiet so they could both hear what they clearly thought they were hearing. The ground itself shook with brisk and weighty stomps. Whatever it was, it was enormous and it was headed their way.

“GHENUS, WAIT!” The wolf shouted as soon as he came into view. The gigantic wolf bulldozed his way between the two, forcing Mammon to lose his grip on the smaller wolf. Mammon felt the brute force of the blow on his ribs as he hit the ground, but was given no reprieve. He was the monster’s target. No sooner did he realise this the beast was on him.

Impossible.

The gigantic wolf he had knocked out earlier with his Risúl. How?! He was supposed to be down for at least a few hours, if not days. And how was he even bigger? There was no time to think. Stomps and punches came at him while he rolled and dodged and blocked, while the creature bellowed wildly, its eyes lost to fury. Mammon needed to put some distance between them. He looked up only to be greeted by the enormity of his adversary. Up close, and despite the mad attack, the wolf looked younger, but the difference in their sizes and strength was achingly clear, even with the silver wolf’s transformation. To be pinned down by this beast had to be the last favourable outcome. He needed to try again, double, no triple the amount of Risúl to shut down that ridiculous body.

“Mammon-san!!! Mammon-san!!”

Mammon heard it, yet his mind disbelieved it. Haru! Why?!

He sounded far, but not far enough. In a moment of sheer dread, Mammon’s eyes strayed to search, but he saw nothing, only the giant wolf on top of him bearing down with full force, nearly breaking through Mammon’s block. He tore the skin off Mammon’s forearms, his claws dug deeper, his fangs burrowed after Mammon’s throat. The Grand Marshal was thinking fast, but hearing Haru’s voice disoriented him. He shouldn’t be here! Why?! Why was he back here?! Was he hurt?!

It was no use, and choice became a fleeting luxury. Mammon disappeared, leaving his attacker to crash down on the ground by the weight of his own attacks. Mammon then appeared just a few meters in the air, above the wolf. By the time the giant turned and looked up, Mammon was already crashing down on him. In fact, Mammon had hoped for the wolf’s eyes on him. This had to work better when their eyes met. Mammon used his white Risúl again, this time increasing the charge to such an extent that it sent an explosive blow of wind and white light a good few meters around them.

Mammon winced, feeling the spasm of his injuries as he kept the Risúl going until he was sure the eyes of his enemy rolled to the back of his brain. The beast finally went down.

Mammon pushed himself up, searching frantically. Still no Haru in sight. There were no signs of the smaller wolf, either.

Then, an acute whimper followed. Like the cry of a wolf in pain. Only cut off too soon.

                                                                                               ***

*Risúl - a flashing power only the wolves can control. It has the ability of incapacitating a victim by rendering them powerless. 

*See chapter 24.1 of the main story when Mammon fought the angel Aarin.