Chapter Ten: The Wolf's Banishment

After the Rabid Young Direwolf unleashed its Frenzied Clawing, it fell into a lull, its two wolfish paws hanging limply at its sides, muscles twisting and trembling uncontrollably. The virus infecting it seemed to have drastically weakened its stamina—after using just a single powerful skill, its breath was already harsh and ragged, like a bellows being worked.

A shrill cry pierced the air!

Skinny Monkey’s fighting instincts immediately told it this was the perfect moment to join the fray. Clutching its staff, it rolled on the ground, darting straight to the direwolf’s front. As it rose, it planted its forefeet and sprang forward with inertia, lifting its staff high overhead. Its thin arms erupted with surprising strength, bringing the weapon down with a heavy crash upon the wolf’s skull. Both players present could hear the sickening crack of bone.

Staff Technique: Skull Shatter!

A pained howl tore from the direwolf’s throat. Even with one brow ridge caved in, the bloodlust flooding its mind only made it more savage. It grasped the staff with one paw, yanked Skinny Monkey toward itself, and followed up with a vicious kick, sending the creature flying.

Ash glanced anxiously at Skinny Monkey, but soon realized this collision had not seriously injured it; on the contrary, it seemed to stoke its fighting spirit. Rolling to dispel the force of the landing, it sprang up nimbly and dove back into battle.

Now, it was Not-a-Sword-Saint who took the front line. Seizing the instant when the Rabid Young Direwolf tossed aside the staff, he unleashed three quick sword strikes. Each blow dealt only minor damage, but together they succeeded in bringing the direwolf’s health below forty.

In this situation, the true value of the two Peashooters became clear—their sustained damage output made up for the players’ relatively weak attacks. Skinny Monkey’s staff strike alone had knocked off thirteen health points, and its impact went beyond that.

With one eye rendered useless, the Rabid Young Direwolf’s combat prowess was greatly diminished. It launched another wild frenzy of claws at Not-a-Sword-Saint, who was now close at hand, but every swipe missed its mark. Its attack speed was already mediocre, and now, robbed of accuracy, the pressure on Not-a-Sword-Saint lessened significantly. He could now fully assume the role of drawing the beast’s aggro.

Ash rejoined the battle, and Skinny Monkey, having recovered its weapon, charged forward recklessly. Both wielding staff weapons, they laid into their target with ferocious blows. Coupled with the Peashooters’ steady barrage, they quickly reduced the direwolf’s health to just twenty.

A piercing wolf’s howl resounded!

The terrifying Wolf Howl, now off cooldown, swept through the Wolf Valley with renewed force. This time, the power was even greater—the direwolf’s chest heaved as it howled skyward, nearly tearing its own lungs apart. Ash, Not-a-Sword-Saint, and Skinny Monkey all succumbed to fear.

[Notice: You are within the range of "Empowered Terrifying Wolf Howl." You must pass a Willpower check of level five to avoid negative effects.]
[Notice: Checking... Your Willpower is level three. Check failed. You take four sanity damage.]
[Notice: You are afflicted with "Fear" for two seconds. During this time, you will lose control over your character.]

Suddenly, Ash’s vision was awash in crimson, and he began running chaotically, unable to regain control despite frantically manipulating the force-feedback controls in his pod. Not-a-Sword-Saint fared even worse; with lower Willpower, he was fearful for a longer period and took more sanity damage. After two wolf howls, his sanity points had dropped by more than ten.

Fortunately, the Peashooters perched on their shoulders seemed wholly unaffected by the wolf’s howl; they continued to pelt the still-uprearing direwolf with pea projectiles.

Skinny Monkey, with slightly higher Willpower than Ash, soon shrugged off the negative effects. It immediately noticed the direwolf was clawing madly at its own chest, as if trying to release some monster lurking inside.

Not good!

Skinny Monkey realized the beast was about to enter an even more powerful second form. Without hesitation, it charged forward, swinging its staff down hard, shattering the direwolf’s remaining intact brow ridge and reducing its health to just four points.

Yet even this wasn’t enough to stop the Rabid Young Direwolf from transforming.

Bloodlust and battle frenzy fully awakened the monster’s savagery. It tore the fur from its chest, and from the wounds now flowed dark red blood—no longer the gray-red ichor of viral corruption. Its muscles swelled, stretching its wrinkled pelt taut. With the fur removed, its chest muscles ballooned, their contours now sharply defined, each terrifying sinew clearly visible.

In a blink, the direwolf’s second form stood revealed—a hulking mass of muscle. Through the Eye of Appraisal, Ash saw its attack rating had increased, and its health restored to a quarter full.

A triumphant howl rang out!

Empowered by its bloodline, the direwolf howled skyward, its fangs gleaming with bloody saliva, a savage spectacle. Its claws had grown half again as large; a single strike now could cripple or kill outright.

Yet Ash and the newly-recovered Not-a-Sword-Saint instantly realized their opportunity had come.

The greatest reason: the direwolf was now completely blind, a headless fly, its immense strength wasted on empty air. The Peashooters’ ranged advantage was now absolute.

“Don’t rush,” Not-a-Sword-Saint declared. “We’re way ahead of the normal pace. Let’s each take a flank and let the Peashooters wear it down.”

He and Ash both retreated, their shoulder-mounted Peashooters dutifully firing. Skinny Monkey, cowed by the direwolf’s imposing presence, wisely held back.

Pop, pop!

Two more peas struck home, driving the direwolf to distraction. It tried using its hearing and smell to locate its foes, but Ash and Not-a-Sword-Saint always slipped away just in time. Now blind, its movements were further hampered, and the lurking virus still sapped its speed.

“This is it—its health is down to fifteen! As long as we avoid the Wolf Howl’s range, victory is all but certain!” Not-a-Sword-Saint said excitedly, raising his voice to draw the direwolf’s attention. The beast, missing once again, turned toward him, unleashing another dreadful Wolf Howl.

The sound waves rippled outward, dread filling the air.

Not-a-Sword-Saint, despite all precautions, was caught completely off guard; the direwolf’s second-phase Wolf Howl had no warning at all. For a third time, he succumbed to terror, lost control, and—unluckily—ran straight into the direwolf’s path!

With pent-up fury, the direwolf lunged at his general position, its now-empowered Frenzied Clawing slashing twice across his beast-hide armor, knocking him off balance and to the ground. If not for a missed first attack, he would have been killed on the spot.

Even so, the hide armor barely softened the blows; his health was now only three, his sanity equally frail. Any further assault would spell his end.

If the direwolf landed just one more hit, it would erase him without effort.

Not-a-Sword-Saint saw no chance for recovery. Still in a state of fear, he gave up struggling and simply lay back in his pod’s reclining chair, awaiting the game-over screen.

“Ah, just when I finally found someone to carry me, I failed to seize the chance to soar…” he thought, equal parts wry and regretful.

But even as Not-a-Sword-Saint abandoned hope, Ash still dashed to his rescue. Seeing this, Not-a-Sword-Saint was genuinely moved. Yet one figure moved even faster—the staff-wielding Skinny Monkey.

The blind direwolf groped its way to Not-a-Sword-Saint’s side, ready to finish him off with a stomp. But before it could act, a staff smashed hard into its waist, Skinny Monkey’s small frame unleashing tremendous force, knocking the direwolf off balance and sending it stumbling.

This heavy blow dealt massive damage, and the two Peashooters followed up with another volley, whittling the direwolf’s health to a sliver.

Desperate and cornered, the direwolf tried one last struggle, but Ash’s collapsible staff gave it no chance to recover. With a steady hand, he brought the weapon down, at last slaying this formidable foe.

A dying howl faded as the direwolf collapsed.

Ash and Not-a-Sword-Saint both received notifications of a huge contribution increase.

Even with Skinny Monkey’s assistance, the direwolf had been more than capable of crushing the players. Only through a series of lucky turns had the two managed to survive this ordeal unscathed.