As Fenrir drew closer, Midgard staggered back, feigning serious injury.
Beside her, Leonard looked stricken, eyes wide and wet as if about to cry, tugging desperately at her arm as though he could somehow drag her away.
But his skinny arms and legs couldn't budge a towering, two-meter wall of muscle like Midgard.
Fenrir savored the panic on their faces. Step by step he advanced, his cruel smile widening as he drank in their despair—and the fragile spark of hope that only made breaking them sweeter.
He lifted his foot, ready to stomp down into the first row of Chomping Cabbage mines. But suddenly his leg froze mid-air.
"A trap, is it? Too bad—I saw through it," Fenrir sneered. "Next, I'll rip you apart piece by piece, so you can feel the real bite of pain."
Then he stepped clean over the first row and planted his leg squarely into the waiting jaws of the second.
The Chomping Cabbages weren't polite hosts. Once something went into their mouths, it never came back out.
The leaves snapped shut at once. Powerful jaws clamped down, razor-sharp teeth tearing straight through muscle and grinding bone to splinters.
It was like having a blade slice clean through his calf in an instant.
The pain hadn't even fully hit when Fenrir felt the ground vanish beneath him. His body pitched forward uncontrollably.
But his other foot was still set in front of the first row. Off balance, he crashed down—straight onto the waiting cabbages.
The activated plants didn't hesitate. Their maws slammed shut, stabbing upward into his lower abdomen.
"Hsss—" Leonard sucked in a sharp breath, wincing as if the phantom pain tore through his own body.
The agony was unimaginable. The Chomping Cabbage had nearly bitten Fenrir clean in half. If not for his massive size, that single strike would have finished him.
Only then did his scream tear free—a howl that split the night, shaking the narrow alley, a sound so raw it made the blood run cold and the heart ache to hear.
"Boss?" The two werewolf wizards outside froze at the cry. Their hair bristled as they shouted his name.
But neither dared step inside.
If even their mighty leader had fallen into such a state, what chance did they have?
These were followers bound by fear and violence. Loyal only in victory, worthless in defeat.
They didn't care what torment their leader suffered—their only thought was, If even the boss is this bad off, I'm not going in there to die.
Meanwhile, Fenrir, his face twisted with pain, fixed Midgard and Leonard with a venomous glare, his fangs grinding together with a bone-deep rattle.
"You bastards, I'll kill you! I'll kill you right now!" Fenrir bellowed, ripping apart the Chomping Cabbage clamped to his groin with one hand. Blood gushed as his crazed eyes blazed with a fury that looked ready to devour Leonard and Midgard whole.
But Leonard stayed calm. Fixing his gaze on Fenrir, he suddenly said, "Stop him—he's trying to run."
At once, Midgard sprang up and drove a fist straight into Fenrir's face.
Leonard heard the crack of air being split, and when the blow landed, he saw Fenrir's skull dent and his skin ripple like waves.
That punch would have left a hole in Leonard if it had hit him.
It was a killing strike. Clearly, Midgard's hatred for her brother ran deep.
Fenrir's hulking body flew like a rag doll, slamming into the ground with a heavy thud. He looked utterly lifeless.
Leonard let out a breath, forcing down the nausea from watching the Chomping Cabbage tear into Fenrir's lower body. "See? I told you my method would work."
Midgard gave a complicated nod, carefully stepping around the three rows of Chomping Cabbages as he approached.
Leonard had gone all out—three full rows of them. Even if Fenrir had made it past the second row, he'd only have been chewed up worse, probably losing the other leg in pieces.
But before Midgard could get close, Fenrir suddenly lurched upright. Like a corpse jolted to life, he burst forward, rolling and scrambling toward the alley's mouth with shocking speed.
At the entrance, the two werewolf wizards were craning their necks when Fenrir barreled out, crashing headfirst into them.
The sound was like watermelons splitting open. Both wizards collapsed instantly, skulls shattered, while Fenrir didn't stop for even a heartbeat, bolting deeper into Knockturn Alley.
Leonard stood stunned at the speed of his escape, dumbfounded as he watched him vanish. Only then did he turn to Midgard. "We're really just letting him go?"
"It's fine. He won't live long," Midgard sneered. "He rules by violence and fear. If he drags that mangled body back, his own followers will tear him apart."
"And what if he crawls off to some hideout to heal?" Leonard pressed, unconvinced.
Midgard gave him an odd look. "That instinct to leave no loose ends will serve you well in Knockturn Alley."
"Tch. It'll serve me anywhere. I'm not waiting around for Fenrir to show up one day looking for revenge," Leonard muttered.
"Don't worry. I'll finish him myself," Midgard said firmly. "It's something I have to do."
"Are you sure? His men might turn on him, but they won't just let you kill their boss. Fenrir might be replaceable, but the leader's position isn't. Protecting the old boss—or avenging him—earns real prestige."
Leonard frowned at her. "He's got a lot of men, right? You're strong, sure, but numbers are hard to beat."
"Who said I'd be alone? There are plenty of werewolf wizards who despise what the wolf inside them stands for," Midgard replied with a confident smile.