An Omen of Ill Will

A moment later — or perhaps minutes — John’s eyes fluttered open to a throbbing headache and a sharp pain on his cheek.

“Hey! You’re alive, thank Artemis,” Cynthia said from above him.

“Wha-?” John mumbled vaguely, before the night’s events suddenly came back to him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he muttered as he sprung up. “Mom?! Saccha?!”

“Your mother will be alright, she’s just under sedative. The faery, however, needs serious treatment,” one of the Order medics replied calmly while he tended to them. It seemed that the aircraft had suffered a few major dents but had otherwise held together. “Though, we’re lucky the helicopter only made it to the treeline, or the crash might’ve been a lot more serious-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cynthia replied briskly, while rubbing her bruised arms. “Now let’s get the fuck out of here, my mom needs help.”

“Are you insane?! I barely escaped that cave alive, hell, I might as well be halfway dead. He’s going to slaughter us if we go out there!” John replied.

“Are you an idiot or do you just not have a pair down there?!” Cynthia shouted back, her fists clenched as she resisted the urge to punch him. “The bastard will just waltz back over here and turn us into brûlée once he’s done with my mom. We have to help her!”

John bit his tongue before he could suggest they simply run away; the very thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. In Cynthia’s eyes now he recognised the same burning need he’d felt when he found out Vulpis had taken his mother. The girl, no not just her, Miranda, Moira, Red, Chey, and everyone else were lending their support in this rescue mission. The least he could do is help Cynthia now. When had he become so self-centered? ‘Heh, who am I kidding? I’ve always been this way,’ John realised, ‘sponging off my mom and dad’s wealth to shut myself away from this shitty world with video games.’

“Alright,” John said grimly. “We’ll help your mom — I just fucking hope our friends are done with the rest of Vulpis’ pack; we could use their support right about now.”

“No kidding,” Cyn replied dourly before raising her bow. “You get the door, I’ll shoot.”

“Alright,” John agreed and put his hand on the latch while Cynthia notched an arrow. Once she gave him a nod of her head, he pulled it open.

Cyn took one step forward before her eyes widened. “Mother fuck-” she barely managed before something collided with her and smashed her against the opposite door. She groaned in pain and slumped like a sack of potatoes. Miranda was much worse for wear. Her body was covered in bloody gashes and leathery burns, and one arm was badly bent out of shape, but she was alive, thankfully.

John’s wide eyed stare turned to peek out the door. Vulpis let out a pained snarl as he pulled Miranda’s bowie knife from his chest and tossed it away before cauterising the wound with his own flames. A similar gash extended all the way from his lupine snout to his right brow, rendering the eye underneath useless. It seemed that the mature huntress had given as much as she’d got. Nonetheless, it was the warg that remained standing.

“By the lady, what is this monster?!” one of the medics breathed.

John didn’t know, and he didn’t want to know either. Vulpis, whatever created him, and the whole bloody Abyss could leave him the fuck alone whether he survived the night or not, thank you very much.

“Sir,” the second medic began. “You need to keep that monster off our backs while we treat the wounded. You must hold him off.”

John’s stomach lurched at the cold truth of his words. With both of the huntresses down, he was the only one left to fend the warg off. He stepped out of the crashed aircraft. Gone was any false bravado or burst of insanity to fuel him; their last bout had made it painfully clear that, despite all of John’s grinding to raise his skills and level, he was still outmatched by the warg. John would die if he fought Vulpis again.

He took another step forward despite it all, letting out a small chuckle as he did. There wasn’t really anything else he could do. If he ran, Vulpis would catch him. If he hid, Vulpis would find him. If he fought, well… at least he’d go down fighting — and there was always the chance that his allies would make it in time for a last minute rescue. Hell, it’d be nice if Gaia pulled a deus ex machina right about now, just do everyone a favour and smite the bastard. However unlikely it was, the thought still amused John.

“It seems you finally understand, boy,” the wolf glared at John with his remaining eye as he spoke, but glee saturated his gravelly voice. The moon lurched over the dark clouds above as the warg spoke, casting a pale sheet of light on the ground. The cry of some sort of bird could be heard from far above. “You’re weak. Your allies are weak. My power surpasses your own, tenfold.”

John’s throat was dry as he bared his silver swords. The warg didn’t seem to care that the Order medics were beginning to unload the wounded from the crashed chopper. His eyes were focused solely on John, probably thinking he could just hunt down any escapees later. “You’re right. You’re a fuckton stronger than I am.”

“Yet you will fight, regardless?” Vulpis smirked, his bloody claws gleaming in the moonlight.

“Will I die either way?”

“Painfully.”

“Then yeah… I’ll fight.”

The warg let out a throaty chuckle at John’s proclamation. “That is a respectable choice. I didn’t expect it from you,” his one good eye mellowed for a moment. “You may be weak, but you struggle and fight for life where others would have fallen long ago. It reminds me a little of my past self… before I…” the warg shook his head and his expression hardened once again. “It matters naught. As we stand here now, I feel nothing but hate for you.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” John replied.

“Mmm, I’ve had enough of talking,” the wolf’s voice lowered. “It’s time I taste your blood on my tongue.” With that, Vulpis charged — or tried to.

As he took his first step towards John, something small and sharp whistled through the air from the treeline off to John’s left, piercing the warg in the lower abdomen. It was a throwing knife decorated with a large golden feather which vaguely gleamed like it was emitting light.

“Hey there, kid, glad I could make it in time,” Arnold waved to John while boldly waltzing out of the treeline. Behind him, the college-aged hunters and huntresses John had briefly met in the caravan park perched among the trees, their bows drawn and ready to fire. Nearby, John caught the gleam of golden armour moving between the trees as a familiar flair of red hair organised her knights into a firing line. John almost collapsed to his knees at the sight of him. Help had finally arrived.

“There are more of you irritating hunters?!” Vulpis howled in pain.

“Aye. So you’re the Big Bad Wolf, ‘ey?” Arnold asked aloud. “Well, you certainly look bad… but I’ve seen bigger.”

“You squawk loudly, but you will be charcoal like the rest come morning,” Vulpis replied, breathing deeply as his flaming gauntlet burst into life once again.

Arnold didn’t look too impressed. “Neat flames, but I prefer lightning…” he said before snapping his fingers. From high in the sky, a bird returned the call, its voice melding into a thunderous crack as golden light cascaded downwards, honing in on the knife currently embedded in Vulpis like it was a lightning rod. It probably was. The warg fell to his knees, roaring in pain as the dangerous current coursed through his body as it tried to reach the ground. “...it’s far more shocking, you see,” Arnold finished with a wide grin.

John heard Cynthia groan from behind him, having evidently regained consciousness. “Shut the fuck up, Dad.”

“Hold your applause, my darling daughter, thunder claps for itself.”

The huntress shoved off the Order medic carrying her, to stand on her own two feet just so she could give her father the finger. But John’s attention was quickly wrested away as a flurry of golden-blonde hair filled his vision.

“John! Thank goodness you’re safe,” Red cried, as she pulled him into a bone crushing hug.

“Red…” John barely managed to **** back his tears before the dam broke.

“Get a grip, the both of you,” Chey snarled as she briskly walked past them to face her brother. “Save the waterworks for after our dear Vulpis is dead.” John was surprised to see her standing there, naked as the day she was born for the second time that day.

Red reluctantly peeled away from John, before grimly turning to face her father who coughed and sputtered on the ground, the hairs on his body as straight as nails. How he had survived that lightning strike was beyond John.

It seemed that Arnold was equally surprised. “Well shit, the only thing more shocking than my attack is the fact that you survived it. I guess you are as strong as you look,” he drawled as he regarded the warg with his hands on his hips. Then he seemed to notice Chey and couldn’t resist letting out a wolf whistle. “Well, I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting yet, ma’am. Name’s Arnold, and you look like a woman who likes her toys large.”

Chey regarded the Hunter with dead eyes. “Do you want to get your arse fisted?”

Arnold blinked once before replying a little too quickly. “Absolutely.”

“Dad, I will strangle you later,” Cynthia cut in with a groan as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

Arnold held up his hands in defeat. “Alright, alright, homicidal werewolf first, fisting later, got it,” he replied before gesturing to the Alpha warg as he struggled to his feet. “Take it away, pal.”

Vulpis coughed and spat blood on the ground, before his eye turned to his sister. “I must admit my astonishment at seeing you here, Chey,” his voice barely a rasp after his electrocution.

“I wouldn’t miss your execution for the world,” Chey replied coldly.

“My execution?” despite his weakened state, Vulpis snorted. “You failed to do so once before, you will fail again now, but this time, I will not be so merciful as to let you live to try a third.”

“You are alone, Vulpis,” Chey replied sternly. “Your packmates have either died or betrayed you. Yet I stand against you here among friends, family, and allies. You’re finished, Brother.”

“Please, Vulpis,” Adelia called as she stepped out of the forest to join her family beside John; “Surrender. You’re sick — surely you can see that. But if you cease this resistance, we can help you get better.”

The Alpha warg seemed to consider her words for a long moment. “I have known sickness my whole life. But this? This power is nothing you can cure,” Vulpis began slowly, his eyes taking on an unsettling colour, and something in his voice caused a primal fear to bloom inside John. Something was very wrong here. “Friends, family, allies — don’t make me laugh, you’re all nothing compared to her, and though you may be right, my sister, her verdict is to make you suffer,” Vulpis straightened himself, cracking the joints in his neck as he did. “So while I still breathe, that’s what I’ll do.”

“Fire!” Moira hurriedly commanded her troops from the treeline. The clearing was filled with the deafening sound of rifle fire as the Order knights shot arcane silver bullets at Vulpis with practiced precision. Meanwhile, hungering for a piece of the warg themselves, the Hunters of Artemis simultaneously unleashed a volley of arrows.

It was nothing an ordinary man could survive, yet Vulpis, who until a moment ago had stood on the brink of ****, was far from ordinary. Flames roared into life along the warg’s entire body, casting a wave of heat and fire across the clearing like he’d self immolated into a miniature sun. Chey whirled around and unceremoniously kicked John in the chest, sending him flying backwards into the dirt, before picking up her sister and niece and diving to the floor. Mere milliseconds later a heatwave blasted over them.

The silver bullets let out a sharp hiss as they began to melt out of shape, while the arrow shafts ignited before splintering apart, leaving Vulpis mostly unharmed. John, meanwhile, curled into a ball as the flames washed over him, fire brushing and licking against his arms and back, expecting any second that he’d be swallowed and it would be game over. But it seemed that Chey had saved his life as the flames subsided; John had already lost count of the number of close calls that night. He let out a small groan as he began to pick himself up, his HP bar now under fifty percent. The last time that had happened was when Frank had beat the shit out of him on his return to school, good times that. ‘I mean, at least Frank wouldn’t have killed me — probably,’ John thought while managing a wry smile.

“JOHN! LOOK OUT!” he heard the voice of Red scream in warning.

But his reaction was far too slow. He had barely turned his head before he felt a burning hand grab him by the neck and hoist. “You have been a nuisance all night, boy,” Vulpis glowered as he brought John face to face with himself. There was no human left to be found on the warg’s face, it had been wholly twisted into a bizarre mix of fox and wolf, with eyes that were two orbs of molten light. What's more, his flames had taken on a quality that was darker and more sinister than before, with a long black tendrils smoking from a blood red core. A long tongue slithered out of the warg’s maw and whipped across John’s cheek as if to sample him. John cried out in a mixture of pain and disgust, the warg’s tongue like a hot iron to his skin. “Now that! That is what I’m looking for. Pain, terror… ugly and raw” the warg grinned.

Red leapt at him from behind, snarling with fangs and claws bared. The flames on her father’s back flared into life to keep her at bay. “Stay back or I will snap his neck, you insolent child,” Vulpis snapped at her.

John didn’t get to see her reaction, but given that no further attacks came, she must have backed off. “Wha— do you wan-?” he barely managed, all the while fighting for breath as Vulpis held him by the neck.

“I believe I was quite clear,” Vulpis’ grin widened as he directed John’s gaze towards the crashed helicopter. “I want to make you suffer.”

With a lack of anywhere to go and most of their medical supplies being scattered through the crash of the aircraft, the Order medics had been **** to take shelter in the relative safety of the chopper while they treated the wounded. But taking advantage of the distraction the arrival of their allies provided, one of them had attempted to escort the least wounded of them to a safer distance.

John tried to scream but barely managed a voiceless **** as Vulpis’ hand tightened around his throat, causing tears to blur his eyes. The heat began to rise again, as the flames on Vulpis’ free hand erupted with fervent desire to burn and consume. John kicked and struggled with as much might as he could muster. The warg barely seemed to register any pain, even when he fired a Mana Arrow point blank into his thigh. He simply laughed as the fireball sprung from his clawed hand.