Dead Gods

Single Part

"Run!" Pallas shouted, her voice laden with urgency.

The nun didn't hesitate. Even with blood still dripping from her wrist, she threw herself to the side, landing in the mud before scrambling to her feet, trying to flee, her steps slipping on the rain-soaked ground.

Liam landed with brutal force, his claws tearing through the empty space where the nun had been moments before. His fierce gaze snapped toward her, but before he could lunge again, the guard who had been with her stepped in the way, sword in hand.

The werewolf growled, thick saliva mixed with blood dripping from his fangs. His eyes, glowing like embers in the darkness, locked onto the man before him with something that was both savagery and pleasure. The guard swallowed hard but held his ground.

It was the last thing he did.

Liam lunged like an arrow loosed from a bow, the weight and speed of his charge making any dodge impossible. His monstrous hand closed around the guard's face, grotesquely elongated fingers crushing flesh and bone in an instant. The sound of the skull cracking echoed like muffled thunder before Liam flung him aside like a broken doll. The body slammed into a tree trunk, blood splattering in chaotic patterns across the rain-soaked bark.

The nun tried to run again but stumbled in the mud, her heart hammering in her chest as death came for her. Liam surged forward with a bestial roar, claws outstretched, ready to tear her apart.

A silver gleam cut through the darkness.

Clang!

Ed's dagger intercepted Liam's attack at the last moment, the impact sending a violent tremor up the young man's arm. The force was absurd—Ed nearly lost his balance, his feet sinking into the drenched ground.

Liam halted for a brief second. His eyes, once nothing but pits of ravenous fury, flickered as he recognized Ed. A guttural growl escaped his throat, something between rage and a flicker of recognition.

"You… are in my way."

It wasn't a thought-out sentence. It was primal instinct forced into words, a remnant of rationality mixed with savagery. But the hunger quickly crushed any doubt.

"I'm going to kill you."

The claws came again—fast, relentless. Ed twisted his body to dodge, but Liam was already upon him. The werewolf attacked like an apex predator—no hesitation, no technique, only pure brutality. His massive paws tore into the muddy ground, and with each strike, monstrous strength sliced through the air with a menacing whistle.

Ed defended himself as best he could, dodging by mere inches, retreating with every attack. But Liam didn't tire. He didn't stop. The storm roared around them, and the only thing filling the creature's mind was blood.

Kill them. Tear them apart. Make the Marquess proud.

My mother…

The thought slithered like sweet poison through his fractured consciousness. His mother would be happy. Yes… She would see that he was strong. That he wouldn't fail. If he devoured every last one of them, if he ripped them to pieces until nothing remained, she would look at him with pride.

I am a good son.

His maddened gaze locked onto Ed.

The next attack was even more vicious. Liam used his hind legs to leap at him like a massive feline, jaws wide open to rip his throat out. Ed threw himself to the side at the last second, his dagger slashing across the beast's flank.

Black blood sprayed, but Liam didn't feel pain. Only rage.

He slammed a paw into the ground, the earth giving way beneath the impact, and twisted his body in a motion impossible for something his size. Before Ed could react, the claws came again—a sweeping horizontal strike that tore through the space between them.

Ed's blade rose to block, but the force was overwhelming. He was sent flying, crashing into the ground.

He gasped for air, tasting iron in his mouth as he pushed himself up from the impact. His muscles screamed in protest, but he ignored the pain. His eyes locked onto Liam, who was already charging again—a wall of muscle and bestial fury.

Ed didn't hesitate. In one fluid motion, he drew his second dagger, spinning both between his fingers before assuming a combat stance. Every fiber of his body screamed that running away was the best option, but he knew that if he let Liam reach the nun, it would all be over.

If I don't stop him now… everyone dies.

Liam roared, his claws digging into the mud as he lunged like a wolf hunting helpless prey. But Ed was not helpless.

The first attack came from above—a brutal strike from the beast's front limbs that would have torn Ed in half if it had connected. He jumped to the side at the last second, sliding across the wet ground and driving one of his daggers into the monster's flank. The steel cut through flesh with ease… but nothing happened.

The wound closed almost instantly. A hot vapor escaped from Liam's skin, as if his flesh was burning from the inside out as it healed.

Ed's eyes widened.

Again…

He had no time to think. Liam spun, his tail whipping against Ed with the force of a cracking whip. The impact knocked the air from his lungs and sent him flying backward. But in midair, he managed to twist his body and drive his second dagger into the creature's shoulder.

The werewolf snarled, his glowing eyes burning with fury, but the pain lasted less than a blink. More steam rose into the air, and the wound vanished.

Ed landed with a roll, the weight of reality sinking onto him. Nothing he did was working.

Liam charged again, his claws sweeping through the space between them. Ed dodged, leaping backward, using his daggers to deflect whenever he couldn't fully evade. But the gap between them was colossal. Each impact sent a numb shock through his arms, his feet slipping further into the mud.

Liam didn't stop. He didn't tire.

"I'm going to kill you."

The guttural, distorted voice rumbled from the monster's throat, but it wasn't an empty threat. It was a fact.

Ed gritted his teeth. Then he would have to fight differently.

Liam lunged again, jaws snapping open to tear off his head. Ed threw himself backward, sliding along the ground on his back, and in the same motion, he spun his daggers—aiming for the monster's eyes.

Blade met flesh.

The werewolf recoiled, a furious howl echoing through the forest. But once again, the wounds vanished in seconds. The vapor thickened, turning Liam into an even more monstrous figure beneath the storm.

That's when Ed realized the truth.

He's not just healing.

The heat. The mist.

He's getting stronger.

— "Ed!" — Don's voice rang out in the distance, barely cutting through the roar of the storm. He was on the ground, blood trailing from a deep gash on the side of his head, but he still clutched his sword. — "Take… the moonlit blade…!"

Ed blinked. The silver blade lay just a few meters away, half-buried in the mud, its surface gleaming under the pale light.

Right…

He didn't have time to finish the thought. Liam moved.

The attack came so fast that Ed barely had time to react. The werewolf blurred forward, mud exploding beneath his feet. Ed tried to dodge, but a colossal claw struck his leg. Pain flared instantly, sharp and cutting, as he was sent flying to the side.

"Damn it!"

He crashed against the trunk of a tree, the impact leaving his vision spinning. Liam didn't stop. The monster was already on top of him, jaws wide open, claws ready to tear him apart.

Ed rolled to the side at the last second, feeling the razor wind of the claws pass where his head had been. He spun his daggers, aiming for Liam's joints, but once again—the wounds simply closed.

The werewolf growled, thick saliva dripping from his sharp teeth. "Mommy will be so proud… I'll kill them all. Rip. Break. Chew."

Liam's guttural voice echoed like a primal thought, devoid of any humanity.

Ed took a deep breath. He couldn't beat him like this.

His eyes flicked to the fallen sword. He needed to reach it.

Liam wouldn't allow it.

The monster charged again, claws piercing the muddy ground. Ed leaped back, dodging by a hair's breadth, but the werewolf had anticipated that. In the middle of his movement, Liam spun, using his tail like a whip.

Ed saw it too late.

The blow struck his chest, sending him flying through the air. His body rolled across the ground, mud blinding his vision. He coughed, the taste of blood in his mouth.

Liam was approaching slowly now, each step sinking into the mud. He knew he had won.

Ed forced his muscles to obey. He crawled forward, the sword so close, but every movement was agony.

Liam raised a claw.

There's no time.

The blade came down, and Ed saw death.

His reflexes screamed before his mind could even process it. In a final desperate move, he threw himself to the side, feeling the sharp wind of Liam's claws passing inches from his face. The impact of the strike tore into the ground, carving a deep trench in the mud, sending shards of earth and stone flying.

But in that instant, Ed felt the cold texture of the sword's hilt beneath his fingers.

He grabbed the moonlit blade and, without hesitation, twisted his body.

A clean cut, I need a clean cut!

The sword gleamed in the darkness as he raised it and slashed at Liam's arm.

This time, the wound did not close.

The werewolf roared. But it wasn't just pain. It was something deeper. Something burning.

The scent of searing flesh filled the air, the skin around the wound writhing as if it were recoiling from the blade. Liam stumbled back, eyes wide with rage, pain… and confusion.

What… is this?

Ed didn't waste a second. He surged forward, trading one of his daggers for the sword. Every strike he landed now did not regenerate. The blade seemed to drink the monster's blood, leaving wounds open and burning.

Liam snarled, staggering. His vision blurred.

"Liam…"

The voice came, soft and sharp, resonating inside his head. He blinked, and then—there she was.

His mother.

Marquise Wysa stood in the middle of the ruined forest, watching him. Not with pride. But with… disappointment.

"Mother…"

Liam took a step back, his golden eyes wide. Hot blood dripped down his chest, and the remaining guards did not miss their chance.

Swords and spears pierced his body from all sides.

Pain.

He tried to strike back, but now the blows came from every angle. Ed's blade carved a deep gash in his shoulder. A spear drove through his ribs. Another strike slashed his leg.

"You disappoint me, Liam."

His mother's voice echoed again, and this time, a shiver ran down his spine.

He tried to roar, but his strength was failing. The images around him blurred. Was he in the forest… or standing before her?

The attacks continued. Each wound burned more than the last.

He blinked. The marquise's face was now a shadow, her eyes like a bottomless abyss.

"You are nothing."

Liam fell to his knees, his breath ragged, his chest rising and falling in uneven gasps. The world around him swirled into indistinct shadows—the scent of blood, the churned earth, the clash of steel against his body. But he felt nothing beyond the burn of wounds that would not heal.

The weight of the attacks, the moonlit blade, the searing pain in every muscle… he was losing.

And then he saw her.

Helena.

She was there, standing before him, as clear as the moon in the stormy sky. Her blue dress billowed like mist, golden hair framing her pale face. But her eyes… her eyes were empty.

Liam blinked, trying to dispel the illusion. But she remained. Real. Tangible. Alive.

"Liam…" Her voice was a whisper that cut deeper than any blade.

He tried to speak, but all that came out was a guttural snarl, thick with confusion and despair.

"He stole me from you."

Liam froze. The world around him disappeared.

"He?"

"Ed."

Helena's image stepped closer. Soft. Alluring. Cruel.

"Kill him for me."