CHAPTER 38: THREE DIFFERENT WARS 2

BOOM

Amaterasu’s blade didn’t just clash with Lykos’s hand — it sliced clean through, tearing it into two halves. Yet, the werewolf only grinned wider.

"Oh dear... I’m immortal," Lykos smirked, launching a counterpunch aimed at Amaterasu’s stomach — but Natasha intercepted it, taking the full brunt. The force of the impact hurled both her and Amaterasu backwards.

Within seconds, dark mist began swirling between Lykos’s severed arm, and it regenerated, good as new.

The air thickened with tension. Even the moon seemed to pause, watching the battle unfold with silent curiosity.

"Thank you, Natasha," Amaterasu murmured, rising from the ground, eyes locked on the grinning beast now charging at them again.

"Remember, I said one minute," Lykos teased as he closed in, claws ready to shred flesh from bone.

"Amaterasu, be careful!" Allen warned. The sheer speed and agility of Lykos forced him into a more guarded, precise stance — shielding Elara and Tasha. "Any more than this and I’ll—"

"This is my fight," Amaterasu interrupted, catching Lykos’s upper claw strike with her blade.

"Natasha, please step back... I’m ending this," Amaterasu smirked, forcefully parrying Lykos’s claws.

"Interesting..." Lykos said, stepping back with a twisted smile, arms spread wide. "Go on then. Strike me anywhere."

By sheer will, Amaterasu’s dark elven powers surged. Her eyes ignited like dancing embers, trails of supernatural flames swirling around her.

"Pride always comes before a fall," she smirked, hurling a compressed orb of flame at him. It exploded on impact with his ribcage, blowing open the left side of his body like carving a hollow canyon — but once again, it reformed.

"What? Those flames were meant to erase him..." Amaterasu gasped, stepping back but holding her stance.

She lunged again — blade flashing like lightning. Lykos didn’t resist. She moved like a blur, slicing him over and over. Blow after blow. Slash after slash. And finally, his body collapsed into a thick, black liquid on the ground.

Amaterasu stepped back with flawless grace, sheathing her blade before Allen.

"I told you I could handle him," she said proudly.

But Allen’s gaze — locked over her shoulder — told a different story.

She turned.

Her eyes widened in horror.

Lykos’s dismembered form was pulling itself back together, piece by piece, like a grotesque puzzle assembling in reverse. Darkness swirled around the fragments.

His head formed first — still etched with cut lines that vanished in seconds. Then came the laughter. His body followed, reformed and untouched, as if nothing had ever grazed his skin.

"How the hell is he—"

"Fear," Allen interrupted, studying Lykos’s regeneration carefully. "He’s absorbing the fear that’s saturating this battlefield — just like Hades. And worse... the fear is rising fast. The explosions. The demonic laughter they are all heared by the whole clan and it’s all fueling him."

"You’re saying we can’t beat him here?" Elara whispered from behind Allen.

"No," Allen smirked. "Not anywhere on this planet. Fear isn’t some tangible substance. Even if we drag him out of here he would still absorb as much as he wants. Our best shot... is to erase him completely."

"And how exactly do you mean?" Amaterasu pressed.

Allen gave just enough of an explanation to spark understanding. But before a full plan could form, Lykos lunged again — same method, same bloodlust.

This time, not only Amaterasu reacted.

Allen and Natasha joined the charge.

"Follow my lead," Allen called out as they reformed into a battle triangle — Natasha in the center, Allen to the right, Amaterasu to the left, blade ready.

His movement pattern is predictable, Allen thought. He’ll go straight for Natasha, knowing I and Amaterasu can’t harm him permanently.

And that’s exactly what happened.

Lykos’s claws tore through Natasha’s body from skull to waist — but due to her dark elven Undeadflux ability, she was the perfect bait.

Allen didn’t attack. He simply slid behind Lykos with ghostlike fluidity.

Then it was Amaterasu’s turn.

With precision, she severed Lykos’s left arm — the limb flying back toward Allen, who opened a small dimension, casting it into a void of empty space.

No limb. No regeneration.

Lykos’s face contorted into horror — but they gave him no room to breathe.

Natasha clenched her body, locking his remaining arm in place where it had pierced her.

Amaterasu and Allen continued — slashing and cutting — one piece at a time and sending them to different places in space. Until Lykos was legless.

Then came the final slash — straight through the neck.

"No... No... This is impossible—" were the last words of Lykos before his pathetic head was severed and hurled into the void.

His body dropped.

Or rather — what remained of it.

No head. No arms. No legs. Even his cock was spared. All gone — floating somewhere in the cosmic abyss.

All that was left was a twitching upper abdominal part— not dead, but useless.

"Victory clap," Allen grinned, raising both hands. His companions clapped back with a mix of pride and disbelief.

"Lord Allen, I must commend your fighting style," Amaterasu said with a proud smirk. "You think outside the box."

"Yeah, all the fights I’ve seen him in end in some crazy twist," Natasha added, coughing slightly. "Of course... let’s not forget the cheat-level abilities."

They laughed, relaxed, relieved.

"Alright," Allen said, snapping back to command. "Natasha — find somewhere deep to bury whatever’s left. The rest of us will gather the surviving werewolves. We regroup at the borderline."

"Yes, my Lord," they all echoed in sync, breaking off into action.

They knocked gently, one by one, on doors long abandoned by hope. Voices returned — cautious but warm — slowly pulling life back into the ghostly village.

Allen led the charge, and Tasha followed at his side. But her heart walked heavy in her chest. A quiet fear still curled in her spirit.

Her heart pitied Lykos — and trembled at Allen’s ruthlessness. But... he did it to save others, she reminded herself.

Still, with every door they knocked... she asked silently:

Is this really the same shy, gentle, war-fearing Allen she once knew?

---

At the Goblin Territory

Maxen scanned the tattered room he was kept in as he rose to his feet with subtle, silent steps, walking toward the door.

There, a Goblin guard stood—long-eared, not elven, just mutated enough to match his sharp, triangular face.

Maxen wasn’t the strongest of the elders, but he was undoubtedly the most talented. The luminary of unique wisdom. His abilities weren’t the usual elemental affinities—they were unpredictable, flawless, and deadly. A master of his art and teacher to others like him.

Backed by that very talent, he grabbed the Goblin by the nose and mouth, then with precise movement of his elbow—crack—the neck twisted like dry bark.

He left the body in a hidden corner and slipped outside. It was too quiet. But the searing sounds in the distance told him why.

’They must’ve put Cealen in a duel... some boss fight for entertainment before their meal, he thought grimly.’

His eyes caught the bunch of fireworks in the corner of the the building, but the black clouds crackling with lightning on an unusual weather caught mire his attention

"That’s Cealen," he muttered. "He’s using wind to generate lightning."

As if confirming his words, a visible spiral of wind blasted into the sky from afar.

He moved forward cautiously, each step heavy with purpose after picking up the fire works. When he reached the source of the chaos, it was like a grand colosseum of savagery. Goblins—green-skinned and snarling—stood in a wide circle, roaring and cheering around a monstrous, nearly giant Goblin. At the center, Cealen fought tooth and nail, both attacking and dodging on the edge of death.

With a breath and a dose of reckless resolve backed by what could only be called fate, Maxen leapt in—fully aware he couldn’t take on the entire Goblin Clan. But he had a different plan.

Garric jumped across the shoulders of the Goblins like stepping stones until he landed a crushing kick on the monstrous Goblin, forcing space between the beast and Cealen.

"I’m sure you’re not too foolish to announce yourself like that without a plan," Cealen muttered behind Maxen, slightly reassured—though still fully aware they weren’t breaking through the Goblin fortress by force.

"Just follow my lead," Garric smirked, "though it might be painful."

"More entertainment!" bellowed the giant Goblin as he lunged with both fists.

Garric tossed the rocket like a firework, launching it with sharp precision. Cealen immediately understood—directing his next lightning bolt toward the rocket.

ZAP!

The sky lit up as the rockets burst into brilliant flames, not aimed at the Goblin—but at the sky, high and loud.

It was the signal: dark, rumbling clouds when the weather was hot—and fireworks without a festival.

’Hope Allen sees that. Or at least... Kealion.’

"Guess you missed," the monstrous Goblin sneered—and with a thunderous punch, struck them both at the neck, knocking them unconscious.

The last thing they heard before fading was the Goblin’s guttural voice:

"Take them away. Refresh them when they wake. I want another round of entertainment... before feasting."

---

Elsewhere at the Elven Palace...

The heat grew hotter and heavier, thickening the air like silk soaked in sweat. At the table, Isabell’s skin shimmered, her body and angelic fethers drenched, and the wetness between her thighs had already dripped down, pooling against the polished wood. Her breaths came ragged, eyes rolling back beneath fluttering lids, her pussy trembling as it clung tightly around Kelion’s mighty cock.

But he wasn’t done—not yet. Seven inches still remained.

Each thrust was slow, deliberate—calculated—pushing deeper, expanding her limits, carving space inside a body already past her vagina, passed her cervix and was pounding within her womb. His presence had breached the threshold, pressing beyond what should be, and now her entire core was trembling with the weight of him.

Isabell had stopped protesting. Her moans had faded into silence, replaced by a slackened jaw and the hollow echoes of pleasure too vast for words.

"Don’t worry, dear," Kelion smirked, hands parting her thighs like opening sacred doors. His voice was calm, yet laced with power. "You’re just seven inches away... from becoming an Elder."