A sharp, wet click echoed from the throat of the injured werewolf Percival had burned. Its jaw unhinged abnormally far, and a localized acoustic shockwave tore through the black trees.
⸢ Devil Howl ⸥
Percival's eyes narrowed. "Fuck."
The air warped into visible, emerald-tinted rings of concussive force, forming a sonar blast that sped right at where Percival and Eristasia were standing.
Percival put himself in front of the noble, taking the brunt of the damage as the noise slammed directly into Percival's ears, vibrating violently against his soul core in an attempt to scramble his senses.
However, with his armor and Constitution, he tanked the effects of the Howl much better than Eristasia would have.
But the Midnight Werewolves weren't going to give him a chance to retaliate. Before the echoes could die down, the remaining two werewolves melted into the darkness and attacked him from both sides with perfect synchrony.
