Sherwin's remaining body twisted violently, bones cracking and muscle fibers stretching grotesquely as he completed his monstrous transformation. The figure expanded to an unnatural size, towering nearly as high as the theater's second-floor windows.
Crimson mist erupted from its wolf-like form, eyes blinking open across its grotesque flesh—eyes that soon flooded like bloody tears, cascading into a river of scarlet that spread across the street.
The Pain Wolf itself had descended, its gaze feral and unblinking as it locked onto the figure it had named a "monster"—Lorrian, the Vampire King.
Lorrian had no interest in engaging in direct combat with this titanic abomination. He casually raised his hand, beckoning the chains forged from blood curses that hung from the ominous scarlet cross behind him. With a sharp crack, dozens of blood-red chains tore through the air, surging toward the Pain Wolf's massive form.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The chains whipped furiously, missing their mark and plunging instead into the river of bloody eyes. Two, however, found their target—one wrapping tightly around the wolf's thick, muscular foreleg and another around its throat, hungrily draining the beast's raging lifeforce. With every heartbeat, the scarlet cross behind Lorrian grew in size and power.
An ear-splitting howl shattered the night as the Pain Wolf unleashed its fury. The flowing river of blood erupted upwards, transforming into a savage pack of wolves that stampeded down the street, their spectral claws gouging deep scars into the concrete.
Street lamps, benches, trash cans—everything in their path was swallowed, leaving only scorched devastation behind.
Watching the overwhelming force approach, Constantine's heart skipped a beat. His instincts screamed at him to hide inside the theater, but seeing Lorrian, the great Demon Lord himself, calmly standing his ground, Constantine instead fixed his gaze, eyes bright with anticipation. How could someone as mighty as his master possibly be defeated?
But Lorrian himself wasn't as certain. He felt a flicker of caution at the immense power the Pain Wolf wielded. It was merely a sliver of its true consciousness channeled through its follower, yet it possessed such terrifying strength. He realized he'd underestimated the true depths of the supernatural world he'd been thrust into. Confidence was good—but arrogance would cost him dearly.
Even as these thoughts raced through his mind, Lorrian's expression remained cold and composed. With another silent command, the blood curse chains sprang forth once more, driving themselves deep into the blood-river, anchoring him as his shadowy wings burst outward, carrying him into the darkened skies above.
Below, rivers of shadow surged from every corner of the city, rising like tidal waves to meet the approaching flood of blood. The two waves collided violently, exploding into torrents of crimson and black.
Yet the Pain Wolf wasn't so easily stopped. Burning winds of destruction erupted around its towering figure, incinerating the blood-cursed chains binding it. With a primal snarl, the Wolf launched itself skyward on currents of flaming blood, jaws open wide, spewing scalding fire toward Lorrian.
Burning droplets pierced Lorrian's shoulders, igniting patches of his dark coat.
"Damn," Lorrian murmured, voice dangerously low. "I rather liked this coat."
His eyes flashed coldly as torrents of shadow rose to form immense black waves behind him. From within their depths burst thousands of razor-sharp black-and-crimson blades, slicing effortlessly through the Pain Wolf's hide. Gashes deep enough to expose bone appeared across the creature's muscular frame.
Immediately afterward, the tidal wave of shadows engulfed the Pain Wolf entirely, burying it beneath the flood, countless blades churning within, peeling away flesh and muscle with every rotation.
But the beast's resilience was frightening. With a deafening explosion of flame, it tore itself free, blazing furiously as it howled skyward, its destructive aura more intense than ever, the flames hot enough to carve wounds into the night itself.
Below, the bloody river continued devouring Lorrian's shadowy tide, annihilating it piece by piece. The shadow was infinite, yes—but the flames of destruction wielded by the Wolf were relentless.
Seeing this, Lorrian recalled the power of regeneration he'd previously granted to his followers, reclaiming it instantly for himself. With renewed strength, he ascended higher, ignoring the exhausting drain on his spirituality. He summoned a vast black-red blade, enlarging it until it stretched impossibly across the darkened heavens.
The scarlet cross behind him dissolved into glowing runes of blood curse, melding with the immense sword. His dark robes fluttered in midair, shielding him from the scorching rain of bloodfire.
"Aaaaahh!" Sherwin's tortured face appeared within the horrific cluster of eyes upon the Pain Wolf's head. His features twisted in unimaginable agony. Never had he suffered such torment—not even in all the years spent preaching pain and silence. Ironically, though he had encouraged his followers to embrace suffering and silence, Sherwin himself had never truly believed. Now he was forced to endure unbearable agony, unable even to beg for death, sustained by the merciless will of the Pain Wolf.
Ignoring Sherwin's pitiful cries, the Pain Wolf lunged again, eyes blazing, jaws wide open. It collided brutally with Lorrian's descending blade.
BOOM!
Sparks and flame erupted as steel met claw, each force violently pressing against the other.
Far below, Benson, Constantine, and the rest of the Initiated Cross had long since retreated to the theater, cheering fervently as they watched their master decisively subdue this ancient monstrosity. The street itself was a ruined battlefield, the flowing river of eyes damaging the sanity of anyone brave enough to look directly at it. The buildings on either side trembled beneath the catastrophic battle's collateral damage, thankfully vacant.
On a rooftop a mile away, Hendry slowly lowered his telescope, expression grim.
"My turn, my turn! You've been hogging it for ten minutes!" Francis demanded, practically bouncing with impatience. "This is a fight between two legendary demons, for crying out loud! How can I sleep this month if I miss it?!"
Hendry shot him a glare. "Relax. I'll put it in the report."
"Screw your report—!" Francis yanked the telescope away, focusing intensely on the distant battle.
"Don't you have your own telescope?!" Hendry growled.
Francis grumbled, never lowering his telescope. "I did, until Constantine stole it!"
He ignored Hendry's annoyed groan and watched breathlessly as the battle reached its climax.
Far above the ground, Lorrian brought the massive blood-cursed cross crashing down, slamming the Pain Wolf from the sky. Blood-chains whipped forth, tightly binding the beast.
Lorrian followed instantly, robes billowing around him. Plunging downward, he drove the enormous blade into the Pain Wolf's skull, twisting it violently, unleashing burning blood in every direction.
A horrifying shriek echoed outward.
Atop the wolf's head, Sherwin gazed into Lorrian's merciless golden eyes, fear overwhelming him at last.
As the immense blade ripped through its skull, the presence of the Pain Wolf vanished entirely, leaving Sherwin finally at peace.
But Francis suddenly froze. His spiritual intuition surged in panic as he watched through the lens. The blood previously summoned by the Pain Wolf now bent to Lorrian's will, surging upward like a red tidal wave. It filled the sky, igniting the night itself into blazing flames.
The victorious demonic figure turned slowly, gaze piercing through the darkness, staring coldly in Francis's direction without a trace of compassion.
Behind him, the world burned.