The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 597: Stop Holding Back

Chapter 597: Stop Holding Back

Fable released his aura, the force of it blasting back the clouds of residual mana. My breath caught in my throat as his eyes locked onto me, a predatory glint turning them to molten gold. His lip curled back in a feral snarl, and I squeaked as he pounced. I threw myself to the side, clutching my staff to my chest.

A whisper of rustling silk brushed my ear a heartbeat before steel flashed over my head, narrowly missing my horns. A black-gloved hand shot out of the shadows, groping empty air where my neck had just been.

My vision filled with silver as Fable blurred above me, a whirlwind of claws and fury colliding with the shadows from where the hand had come. The force of his passage brought fierce winds in his wake, sending me sprawling to the ground. I curled up and flattened myself against the ground, covering my face with my arms, my heart hammering against my ribs.

A flurry of snarls and a choked scream pierced the chaos, then a sickening thud vibrated through the ground beside my head. I flinched, every muscle screaming at me to run, but a morbid curiosity forced me to peek between my fingers.

My stomach lurched. A mangled corpse lay sprawled beside me, his empty eyes staring into mine. Fable’s claws had left deep, bloody furrows across his chest, and his throat was torn open, splattering the cobblestones with blood and flesh. A silver dagger, glowing with enchantments specialized in piercing wards, lay clutched in his limp fingers.

My fingers flew to my throat, tracing the chill of the phantom blade from my vision. That was the third time fate had played its hand early.

The inquisitors stared, frozen, as the mangled corpse tumbled from Fable’s blood-stained maw. The High Inquisitor took an unsteady step forward, her grip tightening on her spear until her gauntlets creaked in protest.

"Rou failed?" Her voice was a ragged whisper, her other hand flying to her chest, steadying her breath. "But, his stealth..." She shook her head, gritting her teeth. "Damn it all. I’m going to kill that beast myself. And I want that girl in chains by the time I’m done."

A fresh wave of spells erupted around us, a chaotic storm of light and magic. I knelt motionless, paralyzed, my hands shaking uncontrollably as I stared at the corpse. This wasn’t a warrior or a mage, but a thief, just like Dyson had been. I hadn’t even considered the church might have someone like this, someone capable of slipping past my defenses like Jessia had.

I hugged my tail to my chest, the ridges a small comfort against the icy fear gripping me. If Fable hadn’t reacted to my warning, if he hadn’t understood the danger better than I had... I shuddered, unable to complete the thought.

The thunderous blasts of the spells detonating around me caused me to jump, bringing me back to my senses. The swirls of color and mana faded into Adaptive Resistance, and I scrambled to my feet, reclaiming my staff. I focused on the inquisitors, shivering again as the phantom blade kissed my throat.

"Fable, please, stop holding back!" My voice was trembling, barely audible even to myself, but Fable’s ears flicked in response.

A wave of inquisitors surged toward us, their movements so swift they blurred into streaks of motion. My heart leaped into my throat, but before I could even stumble back, Fable roared. His aura exploded outwards, magnifying manyfold into a tangible shockwave that slammed into the inquisitors, stopping them dead in their tracks. Even the High Inquisitor stumbled, thrown off balance for a heartbeat, but she recovered with frightening speed and continued her charge alone. Her spear leveled with the wolf’s chest, illuminating the broken city with the blinding white light of a seventh-level magical technique.

Starlight erupted from Fable’s soul, washing out in a thick, impenetrable cloud. The ground cracked and groaned beneath him as he grew, his paws crushing through buildings as the narrow street became laughably inadequate to contain him.

The High Inquisitor plunged into the cloud of stars, vanishing from view. I’d just started to stand, grasping for a way to offer some sliver of support, when a shockwave ripped through the air, cracking my already fragile wards and sending me tumbling back to the ground. The starry cloud ruptured, and a dark form was ejected, trailing eddies of sunlight as it was hurled several streets over.

It took me a moment to realize that the dark form was the High Inquisitor, as she slammed into a distant building, kicking up a storm of dust and debris. The other inquisitors froze, shifting their grips on their weapons, their wide eyes staring up at the billowing fog of stars that hid the wolf from view.

"What happened?" one muttered, his voice trembling as he stared after the lingering tail of sunlight that marked the High Inquisitor’s trajectory. "Not even the dragon could do that to—"

A deep, powerful growl thrummed across the street, a vibration that rattled the foundations of the buildings that hadn’t entirely collapsed. Every eye snapped to the peak of the swirling cloud, almost fifty feet overhead. A dark silhouette emerged, and then, with agonizing slowness, the stars dissipated, revealing Fable’s true form in all its terrifying glory.

I’d seen him like this before, enough to think I was accustomed to his ferocious appearance, yet my every instinct screamed at me to run, to hide, to cower before something that was undoubtedly the natural predator of my very soul. It was the same primal fear I’d felt toward Borealis, a fear that clawed at my insides, only... I knew Fable. He was my closest friend, the only one there during my most vulnerable moments. Why did I feel this terror now? There’d been nothing like this when I last saw his true form during the battle of Brithlite, when he fought against R’lisea’s Life Dragon.

That had only been a few months ago, and yet... my wolf was unrecognizable. His horns were cruelly curved, the ridges gleaming like freshly honed blades. His fur shone like polished steel, bristling with spikes large enough to impale a horse. His fangs were longer than I was tall, and his claws more menacing than any greatsword.

Even more intimidating was the pulsing starlight of Adaptive Resistance that radiated from his core. Somehow, even though I hadn’t cast Link Ability, it held the thick, purple light of the crystal enchantment at bay, giving him full access to his mana.

Dalen took command, raising his shield and advancing toward Fable’s terrible maw. "Rodrick, take its left flank. I’ll hold its attention from the front," His voice was tight with a forced calm. "We just have to hold on long enough for Lady Allana to recover."

"Right, no more underestimating this thing. Treat it like an eighth-level hunt." The other sixth-level warrior nodded grimly. Like Dalen, this one wore heavy armor and held a massive steel shield. He gripped a gigantic, two-handed sword in his other gauntlet, swinging it easily through the air like a butter knife.

Rodrick waved his sword, bringing four other warriors with him. They skirted around Fable’s edge, crossing the distance in a mana-enhanced blur. Rodrick took the remaining three frontline inquisitors and charged the wolf’s head.

The only sixth-level priest, an elderly woman with crimson robes, rallied the rest of the inquisitors, numbering about five. They were a mix of rangers and priests who wore grim expressions.

"Watch its claws, they can reach a few dozen feet over the muscle heads," she said, "And don’t waste your magic on it. Focus on pulling anyone back who gets their wards broken. No matter how blood-crazed they get, make ’em wait till you can renew them."

Fable glanced back at me, his anger receding from our bond, replaced by a surge of unsettling excitement. I frowned, my own anxiety spiking in response. Winds whipped around me, kicking up dust and debris as his massive tail wagged, generating cyclones by the sheer air displacement of the enormous appendage.

I groaned, rubbing my horn. "Oh, Fable..."

Dalen’s squad launched themselves at Fable’s front paws. Their blades drove into his flesh, biting deep before his mana hardened his fur, repelling the steel in a shower of sparks. Blood squirted from the wounds, but they were mere pinpricks compared to his hundred-foot length.

Fable roared, shaking the very foundations of the city, and slammed a paw down on Dalen. The attack blotted out the sky above him, each razor-sharp claw longer than the man was tall.

The inquisitor’s wards flickered before shattering, buying him enough time to raise his physical shield. A shockwave erupted from the impact, throwing the nearby members of his party off-balance. Debris rolled out in a fog, obscuring them until Fable’s mana erupted from his claws, creating a secondary explosion that cleared the street.

My heart sank as, just as with the earth spirit, the inquisitor held. He had dropped to one knee, his shield placed precariously over his body, yet his soul burned bright with a sixth-level defensive magical technique. The other inquisitors, led by Rodrick, used the attack as cover, letting their techniques explode against his exposed flank. Their blades sank in deep before the wolf could redirect his mana, and he staggered, pushed back by the combined force of so many magical techniques.

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