The Corrupted Syndicate

"Don't stop! Decimate its body!" yelled Mavislin, stepping forward as she clutched the warm coat tightly.

Pulling his blade free, Mattheos swiftly leaped back, his movements sharp and precise. As he retreated, Zenos surged forward with deadly speed, his blonde hair streaming behind him as he closed the distance between himself and the wolf in a flash.

With a single, fluid motion, the Viceroy vaulted into the air, his scythe held high overhead. The moment Zenos brought the massive weapon down, it found its mark, slicing deep into the wolf's spine.

The impact sent a tremor through the creature's body, and in an instant, the beast went into a violent frenzy. The spikes along its back erupted in all directions, firing like a torrent of bullets, each shard regenerating faster than they could be destroyed.

The barrage was relentless, turning the battlefield into a chaotic storm of razor-sharp icicles, shredding everything in their path.

It was a horrifying sight, one that sent a chill down even Mavislin's spine. The frenzied eruption was eerily similar to the gruesome scene they had witnessed before—the grotesque aftermath of Celia's body, consumed by the Legion's twisted experiments. 

Both Mavislin and Zenos exchanged a grim look, the unspoken truth clear in their eyes. The monstrous behavior of the wolf confirmed their worst fears: the Legion had not only perfected their gruesome experimentations, but they had also weaponized it.

The beast before them was not merely a foe; it was living proof of the Legion's dark and terrible advancements. The Viceroy was still holding his blade in place as he decided to channel his mana into his weapon.

"Hexa Surge of Nightfall!" roared Zenos as he stabbed the blade through the convulsing body.

As the tip of the blonde's scythe grazed the ground, six jagged streaks of energy shot forth like cracks, in reality, itself, snaking out from the impact point with terrifying precision.

The streaks cut through the air and struck the wolf's massive frame, carving deep into its flesh with an eerie hiss. Within moments, the lines of damage pulsed, glowing with a fierce mixture of black and blue mana. 

Then, without warning, the energy detonated. A violent explosion rocked the battlefield, sending shockwaves rippling through the mist. But as the dust settled and the seething mana cleared, the wolf's body was gone—vanished without a trace.

The Viceroy's eyes narrowed, his instincts flaring to life. He leaped back, immediately scanning the terrain for any sign of his missing foe. His frustration grew, wanting nothing more than to end this boredom of a fight.

Where had it gone? The dragoness remained still, her gaze flickering toward him as if sensing the sudden shift in the battle. 

The blonde swung his scythe in a sweeping arc, the blade gleaming as he searched, each second stretching longer. The creature couldn't have simply disappeared; no, it was lurking somewhere, concealed in the mist, waiting for the perfect moment to strike again. 

Zenos' grip tightened on the weapon's hilt, every nerve in his body honed for the beast's return. His focus was razor-sharp, poised for the next strike—until the sound of something heavy scraping against the frozen ground drew his attention.

His eyes flicked to the side, and there, from the deepest shadows of the arena, Mattheos emerged, his expression unreadable as he sent a lifeless body tumbling across the icy floor with a swift kick.

The body rolled, its limbs limp and twisted, sliding across the cold surface in a haphazard, ungraceful fashion. It skidded to a halt only when it collided with the Viceroy's boots.

Zenos stared down at the motionless figure, eyes narrowing as he took in the scene before him. The faint traces of mana still clung to the body, a residual echo of dark magic, twisted and incomplete.

His scythe lowered slightly, the cold steel gleaming against the frost, as he shifted his gaze from the corpse to Mattheos.

The bunny stood in the distance, arms crossed and blade gleaming from whatever battle had just taken place in the shadows. There was no mistaking it—the body was their missing foe, but something felt off. The icy mist still clung to the air, unnerving in its stillness. 

Zenos' lip curled into a faint, almost amused smirk.

"Is it any surprise you abandoned me to contend with its erratic form? I assumed you were too unsettled and opted for a strategic retreat," teased the Viceroy, lifting his boot to press down on the corpse's back.

"I figured out that the 'wolf' couldn't be the real thing since it lacked a voice or any battle sense. Even though it was an assumption, it was still something worth finding out."

"I took the chance to explore the further edge of the cave before finding this 'thing' and tapping its body with my fists."