Chapter 60
Rimefang had no interest in the relic and had thrown in with the stronger Goblin faction. Their opponents, meanwhile, were two mortal enemies forced into a shotgun alliance.
Five Elite-ranked leaders now faced off in a three-against-two battle, and the larger side was cooperating willingly. Lucian and Fenrir had no choice but to fight together, yet even then, they looked destined to lose against the combined strength of the Goblins and Frost Sabertooths.
Lucian's expression darkened, and much of Fenrir's rage drained away beneath the weight of the situation. With brute force no longer enough, both men fell back on the standing of their races.
"Rimefang, the Vampires have no quarrel with your people," Lucian called. "Help me claim the relic, and I swear the Frost Sabertooths will rise beyond their former peak."
Fenrir stared at him in disbelief. "You bastard! I'll kill you myself!"
Even now, Lucian had no intention of cooperating honestly—he was trying to lure Rimefang over to his own side. The Vampires and Werewolves truly deserved their reputation as mortal enemies.
Fenrir turned his fury on the Goblins instead. "Lay a hand on me today, and the Werewolves will wipe your entire race off the map!"
His threat carried the blood-soaked pressure unique to his kind, and many Goblins flinched back.
Goblins were cowardly by nature, but they had entered this fight knowing the stakes.
The Archpriest raised his staff and swept a violent spell across the army, whipping the frightened warriors into a frenzy.
"Our race may not match the Werewolves in strength," the Archpriest shouted, "but you seem to have forgotten where you are. This land belongs to the Stormcrown Empire. Humanity protects us. Do you dare make an enemy of them?"
The Stormcrown Empire ruled the entire region through overwhelming force. Not even the Werewolves could afford to provoke humanity without consequence.
Of course, that argument only held if the humans would actually defend the Goblins when disaster came. The Archpriest was lying.
Fenrir had no way to know that.
"You expect me to believe humanity would fight for you?" he snarled. "We'd destroy your race before they ever arrived!"
Rimefang cut in with open contempt. "Why waste breath arguing? Kill them all here, and no one will ever know who did it."
He understood the Goblins well. If they came to believe the Werewolves posed an existential threat, they might abandon the agreement at any moment. By speaking first, he shored up their resolve and kept the temporary alliance intact.
Lucian's face tightened. Rimefang clearly had no interest in switching sides—he was committed to the Goblins.
The Frost Sabertooth Chieftain ended the debate with a roar and attacked. His charge set off the others, and all five Elite-ranked leaders hurled themselves into battle.
Frost swept across the plaza as Rimefang hammered Fenrir with a relentless assault.
The Werewolf leader twisted and wove through the storm, but the barrage still drove him backward.
Blood-colored power sheathed his claws, and each counterattack tore through Rimefang's icy armor—yet the Frost Sabertooth fought as though exhaustion didn't exist. Every time Fenrir found an opening, the Goblin Archpriest intervened with precisely timed magic, grinding him down into an ever more desperate defense.
Across the battlefield, the Goblin High Chieftain kept Lucian occupied.
The Vampire leader stayed in constant motion to avoid the massive warhammer, while spells from the Archpriest repeatedly forced him out of position.
Stationed behind the main battle, the old Goblin supported both Rimefang and the Chieftain whenever a gap appeared, and his interference piled enormous pressure onto Lucian and Fenrir alike.
"Damn it!" Fenrir roared.
Lucian looked no less grim. If the battle continued like this, they would lose.
Fenrir abandoned caution and played his final card.
His body swelled violently as every strand of fur stood on end. A savage wave of blood aura erupted from within him, his eyes turned crimson, and long fangs pushed past his lips as his frame transformed into a true giant wolf.
The Werewolves' berserk form. It burned his life force and bloodline essence in exchange for a temporary surge of strength. When the transformation ended, he would be left badly weakened—but that price no longer mattered.
The Vampires possessed a similar blood-burning art, and Lucian activated it without hesitation, sacrificing part of his own bloodline for a short-lived spike in power.
The five Elite-ranked leaders collided again. Their combined auras swept the plaza as explosions and impacts rocked the pit, and for the first time, the two sides looked evenly matched.
Rimefang and the Goblins stayed calm. The Werewolf and Vampire transformations couldn't last. As long as they held their ground, victory was still inevitable.
"Kill the caster first!" Lucian shouted.
His kind already excelled at speed. He slipped past the Goblin Chieftain and vanished, reappearing near the rear formation as he rushed the Archpriest.
The Archpriest swept his staff through the air, unleashing a torrent of green spells that fell like a storm and kept Lucian from closing the distance.
"Let's see how long you can keep that up, old man."
Lucian's body burst apart into dozens of bats that attacked from every direction at once.
The Archpriest's composure cracked. He drove his staff into the ground, raising a green barrier around himself and the ritual formation. The bats slammed into the shield with piercing shrieks, each impact sending violent ripples across its surface. The barrier clearly wouldn't hold for long.
The Goblin High Chieftain came charging back with a roar. His massive body moved like a living fortress, every step shaking the plaza, and he brought his warhammer down toward Lucian's true form.
Lucian had no choice but to abandon the Archpriest. He reassembled and dodged at the last possible instant, but the hammer's shock wave still hurled him across the battlefield.
He crashed into the stone wall with a bone-jarring impact.
Blood spilled from his mouth, and the color drained from his face.
The three-against-two advantage had become impossible to ignore.
Rimefang and the Goblin High Chieftain remained largely unhurt, their auras steady and controlled. Fenrir and Lucian had both taken serious wounds, and their strength was already beginning to fade. The Archpriest had suffered some damage as well, but the runic circle supporting him held stable.
The armies had not stood idle while their leaders fought.
Every faction had sent its troops to contest the dragon claw.
The Werewolves and Vampires held the edge in individual strength, but they couldn't overcome the Goblins' sheer numbers—not with the Frost Sabertooths backing them.
The battle at the base of the pit dissolved into total chaos.
As the fighting dragged on, the Werewolves and Vampires bled out their forces. Most were killed or crippled, while Fenrir and Lucian accumulated wound after wound. Their defeat was all but certain.
The Goblin Archpriest, who had been tracking the struggle around the relic, finally saw his opportunity. With the enemy leaders occupied and weakened, he could claim the dragon claw himself.
The relic was nearly in the Goblins' grasp.
High above the battlefield, Lilith knew her moment had finally come—and that it would also be her last. If the Archpriest reached the dragon claw, everything was over.
She turned to Giles.
"Do it."