Sensei should be here to see this. I, his first and only pupil, am fighting a completed-form werewolf buffed with the moon blessing — enhanced by something, at that. All that bulging muscle is about to burst. Speaking of him, was Sensei the one who injured the werewolf before? I find it unbelievable that he can do it 'his' way. Did he have help? I will have to ask him later.
After I kill this thing. A werewolf who have reached the pinnacle of strength.
Its eyes glow red and remain motionless. Say, if it tries to escape this time, I might not be able to catch him. I don't need to worry about that anymore. As long as I am holding the ramen girl, he's not going anywhere, right?
I look down at the pale girl. Her lips are dry and quivering. She's still alive. Pulling off my belt, I tied her bitten arm with it and dropped everything I owned from my exorcist kit. There. I hope they're enough to stop the blood flow. Hang in there.
"Give her to me," the werewolf says.
While holding my wooden sword, I stare at it dead-on. "Walk over my dead body first."
"Easy enough."
He leaps straight at me.
Tsk, it wouldn't be wise of me if I dodged this. The girl will be left undefended. I have to stay on my toes. Focus, think! Wooden swords won't hold on to his strength, they will break.
I have to resort to mana.
I pick up the bottle on the ground and stir it around. Every spin the flashes brighter. I've never enjoyed using this stuff because Spell-casting doesn't fit my intuitive way of handling things. As a result of a drastic change in muscle, the enemy has also become slower. Whatever the case is, my spell would be done before he could reach us.
I raise my right hand and aim it at the incoming attack, while my left hand sinks five fingers into the glass bottle until it shatters and bleeds cold liquid out.
There's no time to remember how it works: Behold, a gift from our Divine One to the exorcist, the power of spells.
A gray pentagram shoots out from my right palm and stretches until it's the size of a dragon's eyeball — unmoving, waiting for my voice to paint and animate it.
The werewolf cackles as he closes in on me.
The best defense is offense. The pentagram turns red and begins to rotate clockwise as I close my eyes and recall the book of harm I saw ten years ago, "Act of harm". My mind flips the page until it stops. "Holy Arrows." It flips once more — "Stage Three."
My pentagram flares.
Three beams ambush the wolf.
It crosses its arms and blocks my attacks just like that. The smoke runs away and reveals the wolf to be unharmed.
Like I said, I've never practiced spell casting. I'm suck at it. If I were Sensei, stage three would turn it into ashes.
The werewolf shakes its head and dashes at me again.
Maybe we'll try a stronger spell at the cost of more mana usage. "Act of execution." Gold swallows the pentagram. Pages slip. "Crusher—"
"Oh no you don't!"
Clouds scatters around, werewolf coming, bullet speed.
My spell wouldn't make it in time.
Shit! "Shift!"
More mana cost.
Pentagram shrinks.
"Protection: Air shield!"
Red to blue.
Slash.
Just a meter away, the claws.
A transparent barrier pushes the attack away.
And it doesn't stop there. One by one, the slashes come, each is faster and stronger.
The barrier cries and budges.
One more hit and my barrier will be shattered. The claws grab the air over its head; I take it as an opportunity.
"Shift!"
The size of Pentagram has shrunk to the size of my head.
"The art of space."
Purple.
As I prepare to execute it, I grab the girl firmly. "Blink."
Swoosh.
We escaped it by ten paces.
The claw missed us, but hit the ground, creating a smokescreen around him.
The moon laughed at me.
I—I can't beat him. My left hand feels dry. The pentagram flickers and dies.
I look around. Still no one? Tsk, if there's a time you all appear, it's this time.
I've made him noisy enough.
From the smokescreen, "The bastard would love to see you missing a head tomorrow."
It laughs with the moon as it struts at us — two defenseless people.