(Warning: This episode contains violence and blood that may upset some readers.)
Sweat beaded on Rip’s forehead. His blood magic was consuming his energy rapidly. He had used most of his power in that first attack, but it had not even fazed the werewolf.
Still, he refused to go down that easily.
“Come on. Is that all you’ve got?”
The wolf charged straight at him. Even in his beast form, he seemed in control of his instincts. He was not reacting wildly as Rip expected.
Rip fused the two blades with blood magic and hurled them forward. It pierced the wolf’s chest, making a deep wound, one that should have caused anyone enormous pain. But strangely, the wolf did not seem affected. Or rather, he was ignoring it. He kept charging straight at Rip.
In the next instant, he leaped, aiming for Rip’s neck.
I have to move.
“Keugh!”
Rip tried to move, but he was too slow. The wolf’s jaws closed on Rip’s shoulder and bit.
Teeth sank deep, sending a wave of agony through him. The wolf released him, then bit again.
A scream tore from Rip’s throat.
The wolf’s teeth sank deeper, crushing through flesh, grinding against bone. Rip struck the wolf’s head with his fists repeatedly, but the blows had lost their strength. Panic had already taken hold of him.
The wolf tightened his jaws around Rip. Then he shook his head once.
Rip’s body snapped violently, like something fragile being torn apart. The wolf threw him away.
Rip slammed into a pillar, collapsing to the ground in a broken heap. One of his arms bent at an unnatural angle.
His chest still moved, but barely. Shallow, uneven breaths dragged in and out of him. His eyes had gone glassy.
***
Wox walked toward Rip. Each step left a bloodstain on the floor. The blades had done real damage. He could feel his strength seeping out with every heartbeat. But it did not matter. Nothing mattered except the thing in front of him.
Rip was unable to move. His back was against the pillar, his body slumped at an angle that would have killed a human. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, running down his chin.
Rip’s healing seemed to be working, but it was too slow. The damage was too severe. The healing could not keep up.
Wox stopped a foot away from him. Close enough that his breath brushed against Rip’s face. The vampire smelled of fear now. The arrogance from earlier was nowhere to be seen. Or so it seemed.
Rip looked at Wox with his unfocused red eyes. Then he let out a whisper, so faint that Wox almost missed it.
“...bas…”
Wox tilted his head, his yellow eyes studying the broken creature in front of him.
Rip thought he was still the predator, even as death breathed in his face. But he never had been.
Wox kept staring at him.
As their gazes met, the vampire’s eyes showed the first sign of real fear. His mouth opened to scream, but no sound came.
Wox opened his jaw and closed it around Rip’s head. His teeth sank deep into the neck and tore it free from the body.
The sound of tearing flesh echoed through the hall.
Blood sprayed from the stump of Rip’s neck like a fountain. His headless body collapsed onto the floor.
Wox held the head in his jaws for a moment longer. Then he opened his mouth and let it fall. It hit the floor with a wet thud and rolled to a stop. Rip’s dull red eyes faced Myor from across the hall, leaving behind a hollow, lifeless stare.
Wox stood over Rip’s fallen body, a low growl scraping in his throat. Blood dripped from his muzzle and his wounds, soaking into his fur before spilling across the smooth floor beneath him.
He turned his head toward the other vampire.
Across the hall, Myor had stopped breathing. His red eyes were fixed on the head, as if he had seen a ghost.
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