The wolf's bloody path

chapter 22

Hans günsche was a prodigal child.

Among his people, no one could defeat him in combat. This was mainly due to a number of reasons.

As a natural werewolf, his senses were far superior to most others. Hell, most would say his senses were the best among his generation.

His sense of smell.

His sense of taste.

His sense of touch.

His hearing.

His sight.

All were far superior to the other werewolves of his generation. There was only one man that hans had never defeated, nor surpassed.

His grandfather, Max Günsche.

That man was born with the same acute senses as him, if not greater. But hans had one trump card.

His reaction speed.

His reaction speed in combination with his terrifying senses made him a monster in combat.

But Max Günsche made any attack he ever tried pointless.

Comparing his grandfather to this woman, its not even close.

Cinder was a far cry from his 300 year old grandfather. Not even close, even in his decrepit state, he wouldn't lose.

If he could dodge a lightning bolt, he can dodge this womans attacks. And he was, but he was slipping.

Not just his senses, his consciousness.

Hans was awake only through pure will power. But... he couldn't see.

His sight was completely gone.

It's not a problem, he'd already memorised the terrains layout.

Cinder was frustrated. Even just a glance at his eyes, she could tell he wasn't paying attention. A single step to reposition himself and she missed.

Over and over.

"you bastard! I'll burn you to ashes!" The half maidens irritation had peaked.

The ground in front of her had begun to super-heat. Fire blasted out of the ground and the captain could feel the air currents being muddled.

He didn't care.

The mans arm shot through the fire and grabbed her throat, his vice grip almost crushed her throat and her sword dropped to the ground.

So she made a new one.

Cinder slashed at his throat in a last ditch effort, slashed clean through his throat, the fabric of his shirt just restitched itself over the wound.

Hans grabbed her wrist after the blade had tore through. His throat was profusely bleeding, it wasn't healing.

Oh, how he hates magic.

It has been the one thing in this new world able to scar him.

Much like silver.

Max once told him

"Each scar is a mistake. Learn from them, improve upon them. And never let it happen again."

That was the creed of Max Günsche.

And hans tried to stick to that creed, as much as he could.

But, it seemed like willpower alone could no longer keep him alive.

His two hearts slowed, a content smile on his face as he tightened his grip. The cracking of cinders throat was slow.

But she would die regardless of how fast he went.