Dodge. Attack. Parry. Feint. Maneuver. Attack. Dodge. Attack. Parry. Feint. Maneuver. Readjust. Feint. Feint. Attack. Dodge. Maneuver. Attack. Feint. Emily said this to himself as he did it. It helped him stay focused in the insanity of combat. Decades of fighting had turned his mind into the perfect hand to wield the weapon that was his body. They reacted in sync. No delay between thought and movement. There could be none or he would die instantly.

The werewolf swung. Too wide. Its claws glanced off of the armor, leaving ragged scratches in the steel, but not penetrating deep enough to hit flesh. It regained composure quickly and swung with its other arm to try and get the wolf off guard before it could recover from its previous dodge. Again it miscalculated where its claws would be. The creature wasn't used to having long and gangly arms. It was still accustomed to having normally proportioned, human limbs. Emery used that to his advantage.

He used everything he could to his advantage. Anyone else in this situation would be dead by now. Outnumbered a dozen to one. He had killed three of them almost immediately when they had allowed themselves to break away from the safety of their pack. Now they were attacking in fours or fives at a time.

Another werewolf charged at Emery, its mouth hung open, the lower jaw dislocated from a kick it had received earlier. Blood leaked between its teeth and its nose was mostly gone. It still came with the speed and rage that matched any of the other werewolves. It may not have even been aware of its injuries. Instead it swiped up with both claws at Emery, landing a blow, but not able to get through the armor.

The armor, durable and made of high-quality materials, wasn't going to last much longer. Emery knew that he had been relying on it too much and that he'd miss it once it was gone. He needed to finish this quickly, but whenever he saw an opening, another werewolf attacked, forcing him to dance back and out of the way.

Emery took the hit and was launched into the air. He twisted his body in midair and landed perfectly back on his paws. Another werewolf was already waiting for him on the ground.

Two paws. More like hands with spindly, but surprisingly strong fingers, grabbed onto the collar of the wolf's armor and tried to bite him in the neck.

Emery dropped all of his weight, sinking down and throwing the werewolf off balance as its teeth collided with nothing, gnashing the air mere inches above the wolf's neck.

Another werewolf was already coming. Emery could see it and the others circling and moving in for the kill. They thought they had him, but the old wolf still had some tricks.

Using the springy potential in his bent knees, Emery launched himself up, smashing into the werewolf's jaw, breaking it and half of the beast's teeth in the process. The wolf could feel the grip on his back loosen slightly, but those fingers had dug in well. He needed to fix that.

With a twist and an unnatural arching of the back, Emery brought the sword, still firmly in his jaws, around in a whirlwind. The werewolf screached out and reared back as his forearms were cleanly sliced off by the razor sharp blade. It took several steps back and lifted his half arms to its face, not quite sure what happened in those few seconds.

Emery didn't let the werewolf complete a coherent thought. As soon as he landed back on his paws, he swung the blade around, flexing both his back and shoulder muscles in a savage strike that started just under the werewolf's left armpit. The blade cut through everything like a hot knife through butter and exited just above the werewolf's right ear.

The werewolf was dead instantly though it stood perfectly still. Its arms still lifted up. It stood there for a second, empty eyes gazing out and then half of its head and its shoulder, along with the attached half arm slid away at a diagonal angle and plopped onto the ground. The rest of the body tumbled backward and rolled down the incline for several feet before resting against the tree.

Emery would have liked to watch the scene, but the rest of his foes were upon him and he had to react immediately.

Two werewolves attacked from opposite sides. One went high, going for Emery's face. The other went low, coming at him on all fours, looking like some freakishly tall man trying to bear crawl.

Emery knew exactly how to act. He held his ground, twisting his paws into the ground slightly. He dug his claws into the dirt and applied tension to his joints and he waited for them to get closer and closer. He clenched his jaws around the handle of his sword, dripping with fresh blood for the first time since its forging, tightening his grip on it.

The werewolves didn't detect the trap. Even if they did, the allure of fresh prey and meat was too much. They wanted to devour, to sate their desires as newly blooded werewolves. Their bodies demanded meat and mass to bulk up and become even deadlier. That hunger was what killed them.

It was when they were less than a tenth of a second from having him that Emery released all of the pent up energy in his legs. He lifted his paws off the ground, letting his body go where it had been trying to but had been stopped. The wolf's body rotated so fast in three hundred and sixty degrees. He became a blur and the world around him looked like a Picasso painting for the split second it took to travel all the way around then it became instantly clear when Emery planted his paws back into the dirt, stopping his rotation at an instant.

The werewolf that was coming up high soared over Emery. It no longer had legs. Instead it had stumps a few inches below its waist and with no way to stop itself now, the torso flew off somewhere into the woods with a long and echoed howl.

The other wolf which was on all fours may have been luckier. Depending on certain points of view.

The blade was tilted after hitting the first werewolf and the low werewolf was smacked with the blunt side of the the sword. Instead of a clean slice, the werewolf's face was caved in as the tempered steel pulverized its skull. The brain was turned instantly into jelly. Eyes became a buttery puree and everything was thrown onto a nearby tree, coating it in a fine pink mist. The headless body then harmlessly bounced off of Emery's chest.

Six down. Six to go.

They eyed their fallen comrades and then the wolf that had single-handedly taken out half of them. This was not possible. Nothing should be able to take on twelve werewolves at once and survive direct attacks. When one plan doesn't work, adapt and the werewolf in charge knew exactly how to.

Emery panted heavily while still holding onto the sword. Drool and blood leaked from between his teeth and fell onto the grass in cascades. He was getting tired. He watched the werewolves even more carefully than they were watching him. He was ready for the next wave of attacks. He didn't know if he would be able to do a repeat performance. A twinge in his hind leg meant that he overdid it. Sure he would heal at a faster rate, but he needed to be at one-hundred percent now.

The two sides squared off for a moment and then the lead werewolf gave an intelligent grunt. The pack split. Three headed straight for Emery and the other three broke off to the left, heading for Jerome.

For the first time since the fight started, Emery froze. He panicked as a flurry of thoughts filled his mind, breaking down the calmness he had maintained. He didn't know what to do.

If he moved towards the werewolves heading towards Jerome, then the others would get him. If he fought off his attackers, then Jerome would die.

Emery could feel the sword's handle bend as he crushed it between his teeth in despaired rage.

He expected to die. Jerome had to live. The thought was the one that stuck the most and Emery singled it out and acted.

The wolf ignored his attackers and went after the three which were closing in on Jerome. The human had passed out. He laid there, still and unaware of what was going on. The lead werewolf was leading them and glanced over at Emery. He gave the wolf a grin and licked his chops. He could already taste the sweet meat already in his mouth. It made him drool and forget that his belly was already full. It was going to be another successful hunt after the top of the mountain.

Emery sprinted as fast as he could, but each step hurt. His bad, over extended leg, was sending crippling pain signals and Emery could feel that the tendon at the back of his leg was tearing. Each step was more and more debilitating. He was slowing down. He wasn't going to make it.

The closest werewolf to Emery got in range and reached out. He grabbed onto the wolf. Claws, two inches long, broke past skin and sunk into soft meat. It pulled back hard, digging deep grooves into the wolf's haunch. The werewolf watched in utter glee as the wolf lost footing and tumbled, going end over end and then landing in a heap.

The wolf tried to get up, but he couldn't. His leg wasn't working anymore. It hung uselessly to his back, bleeding profusely, but already starting to clot as his enhanced healing ability went to work. It would still be hours before he could make proper use of it. Jerome only had seconds.

Emery tried to get up again, but a fist to the face planted his head into the ground.

The werewolf shook its fist, having broken all of its knuckles in the punch, but it didn't care about that. It looked up at the lead werewolf for approval and got one, a nod and it cared about nothing else now. It happily jumped around the wounded wolf, yipping and occasionally hacking at it with its claws, digging more wounds. It was too engrossed to see the blade twist and slice towards it.

Emery put the last bit of his strength into the attack. The blade went up into the werewolf's abdomen and the tip of the sword poked out of is shoulder. Emery didn't have enough speed to slice out of the werewolf and got a swipe to the side of his face, forcing him to let go of the sword and fall to the ground.

The impaled werewolf fell onto its back as the silver plated sword poisoned his insides. The werewolf screamed. The most human sound it had made in some time. It felt like its insides were boiling away as the silver eroded and attacked the body's internals.

The werewolf writhed and twisted. It began to claw at its chest. First, it tore away the fur and when the fur was gone, it dug its claws into its chest. It peeled away the skin, revealing its bare bones and meat of its ribs. Still no good. The blade was deep in the best cavity and the ribs were in the way.

The werewolf mutilated itself and began to scream out, "It burns. Get it out. Get it out!"

Bits of bones flew in all direction as the werewolf dug a hole into its chest. It never realized that it just needed to grab the handle of the sword and pull out.

The lead werewolf, standing over Jerome's peaceful form, watched with mild amusement.

The screaming werewolf began to slow. Its arms were only making sluggish slaps into the pool of blood in its open chest cavity before all movement stopped.

There was so much blood. It coated everything in a five-meter radius of the dead werewolf and that much blood was impossible to ignore.

Iron hit the air. The werewolves could smell nothing else. All but the lead werewolf sniffed the air, forgetting what they were doing. There was just too much free meat right there. Just waiting to be taken and gorged upon. They ran at the body.

"Get back here!' The lead werewolf ordered, but was ignored.

The two surviving werewolves near Emery got to the body first. One grabbed the sword by the blade and tossed it off to the side. It cut itself on the silver and rolled onto its back, clutching its wounded paw and howled out in agony, but the pain passed from the graze and it then dove head first into the dead werewolf's chest.

The other two that had left the lead werewolf quickly got there as well and began to tear the body apart. One planted a foot on the groin of the dead wolf and then grabbed a leg. It tore away easily and then the werewolf began to bit into it like a turkey leg.

They had no recollection of where they were and ignored all commands to return and finish the job. Instead, they snapped at each other, fought over scraps and then went back to feasting.

Emery felt sick to be so close to it, mere feet away from the scene. He began to crawl towards Jerome and the lead werewolf who snarled at him.

How could this one wolf kill a majority of them by itself? It was unheard of and made a mockery of him. What would the pack leaders think when they heard that one wolf killed so many. Sure the newly blooded were more than expendable, but it would make him the laughing stock. Killing the human was now more than just tactical. It was personal.

"You will watch." It pointed at Emery. "You will suffer." He bent over and picked up Jerome's limp body by the neck which woke up the human instantly.

A rancid smell washed over Jerome's face and he blinked his eyes open. He felt bad. His muscles ached and he couldn't breathe. There was a strain on his neck. When his vision cleared, he was staring directly into the golden and bloodshot eyes of the werewolf that had stood over him before the brown wolf had come.

The black fur of its face looked greasy and stuck together in clumps. Whenever it breathed, Jerome wanted to gag. It was also holding him by the neck.

The werewolf chuckled when he felt the human begin to weakly struggle in his grasp. He liked to toy with his food a bit. He opened his mouth and gave the human a long lick, starting from the middle of his chest, all the way up his face.

Jerome puked a vile, clear liquid, having eaten nothing since the previous day. It left a burning and bitter taste in his mouth that made him gag more.

Emery felt so helpless. He dragged his beaten and bloodied body towards Jerome who was kicking wildly in an attempt to get away. The Squire, his squire needed him and all he could do was crawl. Everyone was dead and eaten by these things, an insult to God and everything on the planet.

"Look at him." The werewolf pinched Jerome's face which was turning a shade of blue. He turned the human's face towards the wolf. "Look at him and know that you did this to him. He came to save you, but instead you led him to his death." The werewolf spoke more clearly than before, putting effort into making sure the human understood.

"I'm so sorry." Tears formed at the edges of Jerome's eyes and the werewolf licked them and the vomit off of him.

Emery couldn't talk back, but he could howl. He lifted his head up to the sky and gave off a longest and deepest howl he could. He put all his grief and lost hope into it before the end would come.

Satisfied, the werewolf lifted Jerome higher into the air and raised his other paw and reared it back to give the killing blow.

Emery watched as the wolf swung. He couldn't bear to look away and he was glad that he didn't.

The werewolf's shoulder exploded into a cloud of red.

Jerome was dropped and he crumbled, coughing and massaging his neck with his hands. He looked up to see the werewolf look at him, bewildered and tried to reach down for him with his one remaining arm.

Jerome cringed back and closed his eyes. He heard another blast and felt his face get hit with a wave of something wet.

Emery's mouth hung open as the entire upper torso of the werewolf vanished. It was a werewolf one second and next it was just gibs with only the legs intact. He had never seen something vanish so fast and without warning before.

The werewolves at the body which was almost gone now, looked up, finally torn away from their feeding. They looked at the half of a body of what used to be the one that alpha had put in charge of them and then to Emery. Somewhere they fogged brains told them that Emery was responsible despite that the wolf was meters away and crippled.

They got up and began to creep towards Emery.

The one in the back exploded. His middle part of his legs disappeared. Hit feet were still on the ground and his body was in the air, but the meaty part of his leg was gone. The wolf levitated for a half of a second before that part exploded as well, not even falling from gravity.

The three remaining werewolves panicked then. They were now covered in the guts of their own and not in a way they wanted to be. Two bumped into each other and mistook the other as a foe. They attacked with tooth and claw. The third began to run back up the mountain when it came across another human.

"RAHHHH!" The human, clad in place armor with a white tunic which had a crimson cross on came charging down the mountain with a claymore in hand.

The wolf regained some of its courage at the sight of a single pitiful human and grinned. It was going to get to kill again.

The human and the werewolf ran at each other, but the werewolf popped long before it got close to the human who simply kept running through the mire of blood and guts. He reached the two fighting werewolves who never noticed him and with one heavy strike, he bisected both of them in one swing.

Emery stared at the scene. All of the werewolves were dead. It was a miracle.

Where there was one human to the rescue originally, came dozens more. Humvees and four wheelers came bursting out of the trees, carrying men in armor, each sporting the red cross of the Templar Order.

One of the Humvees had a massive rifle mounted on top with a female human holding onto the stock. She had red hair and fair skin. She saw Emery looking at her and gave him a wink. There was steam rising from the barrel.

"Get them loaded up!" The man who had come charging down the hill was yelling at people and pointing at Emery and Jerome. "We need a cleaner crew and someone on the radio. People will be wondering what happened up here. Everything needs to be gone in an hour." He then walked over to Emery and kneeled down.

"Marshall Emery," He said. "I'm Turcopolier Reiss. We're taking you to the Vatican."

Emery nodded and looked over at Jerome. He was being lifted onto a stretcher and an IV was put into his arm.

"Don't worry about him," Reiss told Emery. "We'll take good care of him. But for now, we need to get you somewhere. A lot of important people want to hear what you have to say." He slapped Emery on the shoulder before standing up and directing a team of medics to Emery. They slipped an IV into his arm and managed to get him into a Humvee.

Reiss watched as the Humvee drove away. He stayed behind to watch over the clean up.

He looked up the mountain towards where Alpine Hold was. He saw what had happened up there. All those dead brothers and sisters. What was worse was that the place had been empty when he and his team got there. There weren't any bodies to bury and it made Reiss sick because he knew why.

"Sir?" A Templar came up to Turcopolier Reiss. "Clean up is finished. Orders?"

Reiss looked at the Templar and then at the mountain side. There was no longer a sign of a fight here. The clean-up teams were fast, cleaning away all the blood and picking up the pieces to be cremated later on. No one would ever know what really happened. Fake news teams were also sending out reports of military exercises in the area to explain the sound that the anti-material gun had made. Everything was practiced to make sure that the Templar's existence remained a secret, but Reiss got a gut feeling that the time was getting close where nothing they did would be able to hide them anymore, not if their enemy was going to be this viscious. Before leaving he prayed, holding a small wooden cross he wore around his neck. He prayed for everyone.