The battlefield paused.
Lucas stood over Lycaon, silver chains biting deep into the wolf-king's limbs, pinning him to the blood-soaked ground as his dagger lay across his throat. Around them, the monsters paused, wary of Lucas and unsure whether they should continue their attack. For while Lycaon wasn't the lieutenant, his petty character was well known; if they caused him to die here today, they should expect to be hunted and tortured when he returned. While the monsters encircled Lucas, they made no moves.
The pause in battle seemed to spread for even the monsters fighting Steven stilled, unsure if what was happening, but decided to be safe and follow the others, as for the wolves and lycans, seeing their alpha be brought down, they bared their fangs at Lucas in threats but out of loyalty to their alpha made no move that may result in his harm.
The silence on the battlefield was broken only by Lycaon's guttural snarl. His eyes burned crimson as he strained against the chains, attempting to free himself from this humiliation, but the silver scorched his skin with every twitch.
"Order them," Lucas said, his voice even, digging the tip of his dagger lightly into the fur and flesh. "Tell your pack to turn on the monsters. Do that, and I'll let you live."
Lycaon barked a laugh, mockery laced in his voice. "Idiot. Do you think I fear death? I have died more times than you can count. Tartarus holds no terror for me." He sneered, leaning into the blade. "Once I die, my pack will tear you to shreds. Do it!"
Lucas only smiled faintly at the dare. He lifted his free hand, cutting a shallow line across his palm. A bead of blood welled from the cut. With deliberate care, he pressed his fingers to Lycaon's brow, sketching a sigil across it using this droplet of blood.
Lycaon froze. His instincts flared like fire alarms inside his chest. Danger. His body screamed at him, warning him with a greater magnitude than anything he had felt before.
Lucas spoke quietly, offering a gentle explanation. "What I've inscribed upon you is the foundation of a spell I created. A spell to bury a soul in black soil for eternity. No rebirth. No return. No Tartarus. Just silence forever."
The wolf-king's bravado faltered. His breath quickened. He didn't believe such a spell could exist, but his instincts, which had been honed over centuries, saving him on countless occasions, warned him that he spoke the truth.
"You're lying," Lycaon rasped, though his voice trembled.
Lucas leaned closer, his eyes gleaming. "Try me."
Lycaon snarled again, but the sound lacked its old venom. Fear grew in his eyes as a thought surfaced. 'Monster'.
Time was running thin, and the monster seemed to have received a signal, for they started advancing again, ready for conflict. Lucas pressed the blade harder, forcing Lycaon's eyes to meet his. "Choose."
Lycaon's lips peeled back from his teeth, his pride burning against the fear clawing through his veins. At last, he threw back his head and howled.
Wolves and lycans froze mid-motion, their eyes flicking toward their alpha, then they turned and fell upon the monsters, attacking in a frenzy.
Screams and snarls erupted as wolves tore into dracaena, shredding their scaled bodies; as lycans ripped centaurs in half, devouring them in sprays of blood and gold dust. The battlefield dissolved into chaos.
Steven seized the moment. With a single smooth motion, he slipped through the battlefield and rejoined his son as Lucas slit the wolf-king's throat, returning him to Tartarus.
"Interesting spell," Steven said, reloading his revolver with calm precision even as a hellhound lunged at him. He shot it mid-air, not even glancing as it turned to dust. "I didn't think you had it in you to craft something so… cruel."
Lucas laughed between knife throws, unashamed. "I didn't."
Steven raised a brow. "Then what did you put on him?"
"Nothing. The sigil was meaningless." Lucas answered as he threw a dagger at a gryphon, cutting into its wings, resulting in it falling from the sky and crashing to the ground.
"Then how did you-" Steven suddenly ducked beneath a cyclops' swing, shooting the cyclops in its knees, causing it to topple, allowing Lucas to finish it with a knife to the eye.
"How did I trick Lycaon?" Lucas finished, a sly smile growing on his face. "I manipulated his instincts, making them scream of a danger that wasn't real. He trusted them too much, so I took advantage of that. The sigil was merely a psychological tactic meant to spook him."
Steven smirked despite himself, flicking a casing to the ground. Together, father and son fought as the wolves tore through the horde. For a fleeting moment, the tide shifted. With the wolves and lycans on their side, the burden on Lucas and Steven lessened. They caught their breath as their enemies crumbled beneath the new alliance.
And then the flames appeared.
A surge of violet fire burst across the battlefield, a wave of searing magic that annihilated wolves and monsters alike. Screams rose and cut off as bodies burned to ash, gold dust scattering on the wind. The ground itself blackened under the heat.
Lucas' eyes widened. His hands flew into motion, tracing patterns, calling on the wards he had quietly inscribed while kiting earlier, ready for an incident such as this, but not expecting an attack of this magnitude.
Runes flared across the ground, a barrier of light slamming up around him and Steven. The wave struck the barrier of light, hammering and tearing at it, but it held, though cracks spiderwebbed across its surface, revealing the danger and strength of the attack.
When the fire passed, silence fell on the empty clearing. Ash drifted over scorched earth. Every wolf, every lycan, every monster, gone.
And then, from the treeline, she stepped forward.
Medea.
Her black dress swayed across the scorched earth, her eyes glittering with a mix of cruel amusement and annoyance. Behind her, a fresh line of monsters emerged from the forest, following her lead.