A Wolf's Howl, A Fairy's Wing

While the Ashcroft sisters moved ever closer to their destination, back at the plains in front of Kirkenes, the battle between Erik and Frostfang was finally nearing its end.

They had been fighting for over an hour now, and their battlefield looked like a frozen, pockmarked hellhole.

The crowd watching them had all been impressed with Erik's staying power, despite his lower ranking. In fact, it wasn't just his stamina. Erik was putting some serious hurt on Frostfang, while his armor made sure he barely received a scratch.

Currently, they were standing a few car length's across from each other. Erik's armor had a few new gashes and holes in it, but very little blood stained his form. On the other hand, Frostfang looked like he'd been run over by a steam roller.

Blood was pouring from many different wounds, and his left arm had clearly been broken. He even limped a little on his right side. Yet, he still stared defiantly at Erik. For an extremely low tier third-ranker like Frostfang, his endurance was truly remarkable.

Of course, the same could be said for Erik as a top tier second-ranker.

Leaning on his hammer, Erik grinned at his opponent. "What do you think, Jonas? Ready to give up?"

Erik was a little tired, and his aetherium storage was running low, but he could still go on for a while longer. He'd been careful to use as little of his aetherium storage as possible, so that Elora could use that aetherium to boost his physical recovery speed instead, using her magic.

After all, in video game terms, his aetherium storage was like a mana pool, while the power used by his Runebound abilities, was more like a quickly regenerating energy pool. Unfortunately, it was quite taxing and tiring on the body to generate that energy, but fortunately, Elora happened to be an expert at rejuvenating his body.

Thus, so long as there was energy in his aetherium storage, Erik could keep on fighting like a Runebound werewolf. Which did mean that, in an endurance heavy fight, he needed to limit his usage of Arcanist spells.

Which was why he hadn't used his thundersnow blast anymore, as that expensive spell takes nearly a third of his stored aetherium to cast. Neither had he used his spatial spell, or his second rank thundersnow spell.

"I was sure… I would beat you… in a battle of endurance… at the very least…" Frostfang panted, as blood streamed from his many wounds. "And yet you… remain standing… while I'm about… ready to collapse… I really don't… understand how… you work…"

"And I'm not about to explain it," Erik scoffed. "All you need to know is that I can go on for a while longer yet."

Frostfang stared at his opponent for a moment as he continued to pant. His wounds were visibly closing up due to his third-ranked Runebound healing factor, but only actual rest could restore his stamina.

Well, rest, or a fairy in his soul, but Erik was pretty sure he was the only one on Earth with that particular advantage.

"Do you… really have… a plan… to help the Enclave survive…?" In the end, it appeared that Frostfang remained dogged in his desire to put the Enclave first, no matter what.

"If you and the rest of the Enclave can follow my orders, yeah." Erik nodded nonchalantly. He neglected to mention that his main goals were the survival of Viljar, the death of Sigurd, and the recovery of Liv, while the Enclave's survival was only a fringe benefit to him, but why muddy the waters?

Besides, fringe benefit or not, if he could have both the Enclave and Dominion survive with leadership that was loyal, or at least friendly, to him, that would greatly aid his and Elora's future plans to take over the Council.

For a moment, Frostfang stared into Erik's eyes as if trying to determine the truth of his words. But in the end, whether because he decided to trust Erik or because he simply couldn't stand anymore, Frostfang sank to one knee. "Fine… You win… The Enclave is yours."

Turning his gaze towards the crowd of Enclave shapeshifters, he took a deep breath, and raised his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "From today forwards, Erik Gunnulf, son of our founder, Runa Gunnulf, will lead the Enclave. Serve him like you would me or his mother."

Erik grinned victoriously, and was about to say some words of his own, when he heard a voice in his mind. "Erik! Sigurd!"

With Elora's warning, Erik quickly turned his gaze in the direction of the third-ranked vampire on the other side of the battlefield, and noticed he was holding a large stone with a sigil drawn on it.

A sigil that was quickly lighting up, and clearly about to do something, while the stone was pointed in Frostfang's direction.

Erik scowled, 'Do I really have to go save this guy now?'

Yes he did.

The following events happened over the span of a second.

The sigil finished charging, and an orange beam, very similar to Astrid's skill, was fired in Frostfang's direction, moving at incredible speed.

The exhausted Frostfang could see it approach, but there was no way he could dodge in time, exhausted as he was. Erik, meanwhile, was not yet skilled enough in spatial displacement to move himself instantly across that distance.

Luckily, that was not his only movement skill.

Lightning struck as Erik used his lightning flash skill, and he suddenly appeared in front of Frostfang, with the beam bearing down on him.

In response, Erik extended his transformed, clawed werewolf hands, and caused a large, icy-white magic circle to appear. Immediately after, a sideways dome, crackling with thundersnow lightning, appeared in front of them.

This was his second-rank thundersnow Arcanist spell: thundersnow barrier.

Boom!

The beam struck his barrier, and Erik scowled, as the aetherium storage he shared with Elora was quickly being drained.

At the same time, everyone could now clearly see his ability to use both Arcanist and Runebound abilities. He hadn't actually been that careful with it before, but what most people had simply written off as impossible before, had now become glaringly obvious.

The standoff between beam and barrier went on for a few seconds longer, before the beam finally dissipated, and Erik dispelled the barrier, while glaring at Sigurd.

Across the way, Sigurd shrugged nonchalantly, saying just hard enough for Erik to hear, "Had to try, didn't I?"

Erik scoffed, before turning around to grab Frostfang, tossing him over his shoulder unceremoniously, and quickly moving back to Kirkenes.

Meanwhile, after Erik turned around, Sigurd lost his nonchalance and scowled angrily. "Where the fuck did this guy come from?!" he growled, not necessarily directed at any one person. "A second-ranker with the power of a third?! How come I knew nothing of this?! Plus, was that an Arcanist ability he used at the end?! Who the fuck is this guy!"

He looked around at the vampires of his inner circle, but they all kept uncomfortably quiet. They had no answers to give their lord.

Well, all except one. It was the ghoulified Liv Frost who spoke up. "I believe we've seen this man before, Lord Sigurd," she said in a strange, raspy tone of voice.

"What are you talking about, Lars?" Sigurd frowned. Lars, being the only one of this underlings that Sigurd put any real trust in, was currently back in Alta, controlling the ghoulified third-ranker Liv Frost from the Dominion's main base. The same place that also held the control sigils for every second-ranked ghoul in the Dominion's army.

"I believe that's the werewolf that killed Astrid, nearly a year ago now, Lord Sigurd," Lars answered, using his control over Liv's body to do so.

Sigurd frowned and looked at Erik again, before nodding. "I think you're right… that's a strange coincidence…"

His expression remained thoughtful for a moment, but then he shook his head. "Well, whatever. It's certainly a coincidence worth investigating, but that doesn't help us right now!"

He waved in the direction of the two combatants moving back to Kirkenes, "The Enclave now has two third-ranked equivalent fighters! That may be equal to us, but I'm the only one who can actually cross these sigils! So, I want to hear solutions!"

"What if we attack now, my lord?" one woman sheepishly suggested. "Even if those two are on the same side, they are both tired and wounded. Perhaps my lord could defeat them both if he attacks right now?"

"Don't be an idiot," Sigurd scoffed. "That newcomer doesn't even seem particularly tired! He just needs to keep me busy for at most half an hour. By then, Frostfang's injuries will have recovered to a point where he can rejoin the fight, and than it'll be two against one. Meanwhile, our thousand vampires will be facing their three thousand shapeshifters. Are you prepared to lead the charge?"

Naturally, the woman remained quiet, and Sigurd scoffed again, before sinking into thought.

He shortly considered trying to buy that newcomer's loyalty, since there seemed to be some tensions between him and Frostfang. But the problem was, he didn't really have anything to entice him with. Vampires he could lure with high-quality blood, but what could he give to a werewolf?

Since no one was coming forward with a new plan, Sigurd scoffed. "Well, whatever. Let's just wait for plan B to finish."