Gary had been stabbed several times, yet somehow he was still standing. From the outside, it almost looked unreal, as if his body simply refused to fall no matter how much damage it took. Both Jackâs camp and Steveâs pack stared in disbelief, watching a Werewolf who should have collapsed long ago remain upright through sheer will alone.
The stabbing attacks werenât just shallow wounds meant to scare or weaken him. Each strike tore through muscle and flesh, carrying the full force of Clawâs body behind it. The nails pierced deep, and right after the sharp pain of penetration came the heavy impact of Clawâs fingers slamming into him, like being struck repeatedly by solid iron rods. Every hit sent a shock through Garyâs body, rattling his bones and forcing air from his lungs.
Yet, he endured.
Gary knew why he was still standing. Back when he still had his full system, he had relied on skills like Last Stand more times than he could count. He had pushed his body past its limits before, surviving situations where he should have died. But this time was different. There were no system prompts, no buffs, no emergency skills kicking in to save him.
Right now, this was just his body.
And that truth terrified him more than any enemy ever had.
Unlike before, Gary couldnât see numbers. There was no HP bar slowly ticking down, no clear indicator of how close he was to death. Every wound felt real in a way he hadnât experienced in a long time. The pain didnât fade after a moment. It stayed, burned, throbbed, and worsened with every movement.
It was the first time Gary had fought seriously as a Werewolf without the system acting as a safety net. No skills. No second chances.
And yet, despite all of that, he didnât feel fear. Instead, something else filled his chest.
Resolve.
Claw came at him again, swinging from the side with brute force. Gary forced his arm up and met the strike with his forearm. The claws dug into his skin immediately, ripping through flesh, but he didnât pull away. Instead, he clenched his teeth and shoved forward, locking Clawâs arm in place.
Pain shot up his nerves, sharp and unforgiving, but Gary ignored it.
He twisted his body and slammed his fist into the side of Clawâs head. The impact echoed, a dull, heavy sound that made several Werewolves flinch. Claw staggered but didnât fall, snarling as he retaliated.
Gary didnât retreat.
He pushed through the pain, grabbing Claw by the shoulders and driving his knee hard into his stomach. The air burst from Clawâs lungs in a violent cough. That was the moment the fight changed.
What followed was no longer a technical exchange of blows or cautious movement. It became a brutal slugfest.
Gary stopped trying to dodge everything. He stopped trying to fight cleanly. Instead, he chose which attacks he could survive and let them land, twisting his body just enough so that fatal strikes missed while still allowing him to counter.
From Kaiâs perspective, it was terrifying, and impressive.
Gary wasnât fighting recklessly. Every movement had purpose. He shifted his weight to avoid his throat, turned his body so deep stabs hit muscle instead of organs, and absorbed blows that others would have panicked from. It wasnât something that could be learned overnight. It was the kind of instinct forged through years of real combat.
Claw swung again, and Gary took the hit across his side. Pain exploded through him, but he answered with another punch, then another. Each strike carried everything he had left.
Another knee crashed into Clawâs face, shattering teeth and sending blood flying. The sound of bone breaking rang through the battlefield, silencing the murmurs from both packs.
Claw stumbled back, barely conscious.
Gary didnât stop.
He stepped forward and delivered one final punch, his fist slamming into Clawâs face with everything he had left. The force sent Claw flying backward, his body crashing across the dirt toward Jackâs pack. Several Werewolves rushed forward instinctively and caught him before his body could hit the ground again.
It was over.
Claw didnât move.
As the realization spread, a heavy silence fell over the battlefield.
Gary stood there, breathing hard. His chest rose and fell rapidly as his Werewolf form began to fade. Fur receded, muscles shrank, and soon his human body stood exposed, covered in blood. His clothes were torn, soaked crimson, and clung to his skin. Wounds that had been hidden beneath fur now showed clearly, deep gashes, puncture wounds, and bruises forming rapidly.
For some reason, seeing Gary like this was even more frightening than when he had been transformed.
âThat guy...â one of Jackâs pack members muttered. âI donât think heâs that skilled... but damn, his willpower is insane.â
Not everyone understood what they had just witnessed.
But Jack did.
So did Steve.
They had both seen enough battles to recognize true experience when it appeared. Gary hadnât won because he was stronger. He had won because he knew how to survive. He knew how to fight when losing was not an option.
When Gary finally turned and walked back toward Steveâs side, each step looked heavier than the last. Still, he didnât collapse. He stopped in front of Kai and Lupus and managed a weak grin.
âI think I need some food,â Gary said, his voice hoarse. âOtherwise... Iâm not going to be doing much else.â
Despite everything, he was still Gary.
His eyes met Steveâs briefly. Gary didnât know why Steve had asked him to lose the match. He didnât know what plan Steve had in mind. All he knew was that he hadnât had a choice. Against an opponent like Claw, holding back would have meant dying.
Steve said nothing, but his expression tightened slightly.
He understood now.
There had been a reason he asked Gary to lose, and a reason he hadnât asked Lupus to do the same. Having spent some time with him he understood Lupusâs character.
As Gary stepped aside, all eyes turned to the last remaining fighter.
Lupus.
The air grew heavy with anticipation.
If Lupus won this final fight... then all three of them would have claimed victory.
And no one knew what that outcome would truly mean.
****
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