Blood mixed with scorching heat as it sprayed outward, brutal yet awe-inspiring.

Fenrir let out an earth-shaking howl of agony. At his chest, Arcturus' fist had already driven straight through, dealing catastrophic damage to his heart.

At the brink of death, Fenrir spread his arms and suddenly pulled Arcturus into a crushing embrace. Then, he lowered his head, and his savage fangs sank deep into Arcturus' neck.

The golden light in Arcturus' eyes, once blazing, froze in an instant. After that, it slowly dimmed until all divine radiance vanished completely.

At the same time, Fenrir's arms loosened bit by bit.

In the end, both figures collapsed in a twisted posture, their lives extinguished together. What remained were countless corpses and a shattered, ruined battlefield.

This land had once held the Highland Tribe's beloved mountains, fields, and quiet valleys. It had also been home to the werewolves' dark, ancient castles, all of which were destroyed by the flames of war.

Andrew