Corrupted blood dripped off the many, metal poles jutting out of Shay’s mangled body. Just standing was a defiance of death.

Thomas swallowed his saliva. His gut had been screaming at him throughout the entire fight, but only in the end did he hear its words: Shay was dying to fight 

‘Shay has gone mad,’ Thomas thought. ‘This doesn’t make any sense! I won, didn’t I? I dropped a bridge on his head for the goddess’s sake! He should be running, not fighting.’ He took a step away from the homicidal maniac, then another. Before he knew it, his trembling back hit a solid wall. He cursed.

“You can’t dodge this time!” Shay barked as he lunged at the noble with a sudden torrent of strength. Thomas tensed. The claws grated off his spear shaft but the heavy impact shot through his entire body. His spear flew out of his grip as his left arm went limp.

Thomas fought the instinct to reach for his spear and pulled vials out of his belt. Two corks hit the ground as he splashed the vials’ contents onto Shay’s face.

Green liquid soaked into the flesh, which turned blue-ish brown before peeling open. Veins expanded and blackened. The lycanthrope let out a low growl, seemingly immune to the bitter pain.

Thomas let out a laugh. “Just die already!”

Shay twisted his body sideways at an upward angle, pointing the spikes along his back towards Thomas as if a cavalry unit pointed their spears at the young noble. Thomas leapt away too late, and the spines punched through his body.

Shay increased his momentum, using Thomas like a battering ram as he charged through a wall, then another, then another. ‘He even changed his fighting style,’ Thomas thought, his mind clear despite the unimaginable pain his body was in. ‘He’s going to run me through the entire ruin!’

His life essence protected him, but he could feel it thinning after each hit. He couldn’t free himself as his body was thrown about like a ragdoll. In his desperation, he clawed and bit and kicked and punched, but Shay was dead-set on using the last shreds of his monstrous strength.

Thomas’s life essence couldn’t hold on anymore, and it dissipated.

Blasting through one last wall, Thomas found himself in the entryway.

Shay shifted his direction away from the thin walls of rotten wood, and sped up, heading towards a solid, stone pillar.

Thomas’s eyes went wide as he realized he would be crushed between pillar and the charging monster. The clever wolf must have been planning on this.

In one last attempt at freedom, Thomas drew a dagger, then drove it into Shay’s spinal cord, severing it. The lycanthrope howled in pain. Thomas happily watched Shay’s back legs go limp, a happiness which faded as he realized they weren’t slowing enough. The last thing he heard before everything went black? Bodies cracking against stone.

Everything went black.

…

Shay ran as fast he could towards a pillar and in the process, a burning pain stabbed into his spine. His legs stopped listening to him, but it didn’t matter as his momentum carried him into the stone support, crushing the noble with a satisfying crack. He heard his bones shift as he also hit the stone.

The ruin quaked. Parts of the ceiling tumbled through ancient cobwebs to the ground, birthing clouds of centuries-old dust. Several pillars collapsed, burying the front entrance in rubble.

Little white snowflakes fluttered onto Shay, only to be dyed red by his blood. He fell onto his haunches, stars flying through his blurred vision. He couldn’t feel the creeping cold, nor could he taste the vile poison in his mouth.

Thomas was heavy on Shay’s back, so he shook him off. Somehow, he still felt heavy. He took one step on his shaking front legs and fell, coughing up blood.

Everything was blood. His fur was blood. His mouth was blood. His eyes were blood. There was too much blood.

The rush of battle left him and the pain, which he was previously able to ignore, crashed against his insides. It was the venom. It was a cruel shadow that had been waiting in the dark. Now that Shay was weak, it hammered nails through every single muscle, paralyzing him. It allowed him to be conscious, so he could feel himself get ripped apart.

Everything was so heavy, even his eyes. He struggled to keep them open, only to stare blankly at the destruction he had caused. Through the blackness, eating away at his vision, he caught a twitch of Thomas’s hand.

A foul smelling steam rose off the noble. Slowly, unnaturally, Thomas rose to his feet. His wounds had vanished without a single scar to show for it. He was so skinny that a gust of wind might topple him over. His back to the lycanthrope, he stared up at the clouded, night sky.

Luckily, Shay’s mouth was still open, allowing him to speak. “Over…here,” he said in a shaky voice that was barely above a whisper.

Thomas turned around. Shay couldn’t lift his head up to see the noble’s face, but he could tell that Thomas was looking down at him.

Thomas shambled over to Shay and fell to his knees. His blue eyes dimmed, an inner darkness threatening to consume his consciousness. He opened his mouth and a line of drool escaped. “Not yet,” he muttered as he white knuckled his dagger’s hilt.

Shay forced out a hollow chuckle. “I’m starting to think monsters…are different from humans.” he said between labored breaths. “It’s because of…because of hunger. Humans aren’t hungry enough. They don’t have the same kind of hunger that you have…the same as mine…the same as all of our kin. Welcome…to the world of monsters, where the strong eat the weak. Always eating. Always being eaten…on the inside. Finish me, and my strength will become yours.”

Thomas placed his dagger against Shay’s neck, and Shay could feel the blade trembling. Thomas’s mouth opened and closed. He wiped his drool onto his sleeve. “Why do you seem so happy? Why do you enjoy others’ pain? You could have lived like a normal person damn it!” His stomach grumbled, and he winced.

“Am I smiling?”

“You can’t tell?”

A coughing fit racked through Shay’s body. After it passed he said, “No, I can’t feel it. I can’t even feel the hunger anymore. It’s gone. It’s finally gone-“

Thomas’s dagger clattered to the ground. A tear splashed on the blade.

A vicious snap rang out in the dark night.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.