Alpha vs. Alpha
When the old blood howls, only one voice can rise above the rest.
The sanctum quaked.
Alaric stood opposite Warrick across a circle etched in ash and bone. Twelve dead Ironfang lieutenants now lay still—some from blades, others twisted by the backlash of the unfinished ritual. Runes still shimmered at the edges of the stone walls, casting light like veins of fire.
The last battle began not with a roar—but a silence so deep the wind itself seemed to vanish.
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Stage One: Testing the Fangs
Alaric moved first. He darted low, feinting left before slicing upward in a shallow arc. His moonfire-forged blade hissed as it clashed against Warrick's claw—one now hardened by death magic, pulsing with black veins.
Warrick twisted, caught the momentum, and slammed Alaric into a pillar. Stone cracked.
"You fight with discipline," Warrick growled, "but I fight with the rage of the old world."
Alaric rolled, regaining balance. "Then your world dies here."
They circled. Each waiting. Each calculating.
Warrick lunged with a brutal downward strike—Alaric blocked, but staggered. The sheer weight of the blow sent fractures through his vambrace. He countered with a sweep to Warrick's ribs—caught only part of the flesh, leaving a shallow wound.
Both stepped back.
Blood was drawn.
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Stage Two: Shift and Break
With a roar, Warrick invoked his dark rune—the Sigil of Rupture—causing the very air around them to fracture with static. Gravity bent. Alaric was thrown backward, crashing through a ceremonial monolith.
Warrick advanced like a god of ruin, his antlered silhouette haloed by deathlight.
But Alaric wasn't finished.
From behind the rubble, he triggered his prepared enchantment—rune traps carved into his twin blades days earlier by Mira and Lira.
He drove both swords into the stone floor.
The room exploded in silver light.
Warrick screamed as the light seared into his corrupted flesh—moonlight banishing shadow magic. One antler cracked. His eyes dimmed for a heartbeat.
That heartbeat was all Alaric needed.
He sprinted.
He didn't strike with brute strength—he struck with memory.
Every move was learned from battles past.
A pivot he learned from Lira. A sidestep from Nyra. A feint from Kael.
Warrick caught one blade—but missed the second.
The dagger plunged into his side.
A growl turned into a roar.
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Stage Three: The Turn
Warrick slammed his claws into Alaric's side—ripping through armor and fur. Alaric cried out, blood spraying onto the ancient stones.
"I gave you this gift!" Warrick snarled. "I let your bloodline live when I burned your kin. I made you possible."
"You made me necessary," Alaric gasped.
They clashed again—claws vs. blades, dark magic vs. lightborn fury.
Warrick tried to break Alaric's spine in a crushing grip—but Alaric dislocated his own shoulder to slip free. In that moment of pain-clarity, he pulled his backup blade—small, jagged, ancient.
Forged from the fang of the first Moonborn Alpha.
Alaric slammed it into Warrick's chest.
The scream that followed shook the pillars of the Hollow.
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Final Phase: The Alpha's Choice
Warrick staggered. His body was mutating, fighting death, his form trying to complete the ritual. Tentacles of shadow lashed outward—but Alaric stepped through them, bloodied, broken, relentless.
He gripped Warrick's throat.
"End it," Warrick gasped, eyes flashing between defiance and fear. "But know this: the world will always fear the strong. Peace is a leash. And wolves—"
"—shouldn't be led by tyrants," Alaric finished.
He drove his final blade into Warrick's heart.
The light burst from the wound like a nova. The corruption burned away. The runes of the Hollow cracked.
The walls split.
Warrick's body fell to its knees—then disintegrated into ash.
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The Aftermath – The Silence
The sanctum was still.
Lira, Kael, Nyra, and Thorne emerged from the shadows—injured but alive. Kael knelt beside Alaric, who now sat bleeding, his hands trembling not from pain—but from the absence of it.
It was over.
The Alpha of Ironfang was gone.
And as the sun rose outside the Hollow, it carried with it something unseen for years.
Hope.