Bie rapidly dispatched another red dog, lopping off its limbs in a horizontal swing as the top half of his double-sided axe propelled forwards, snapping off of the pole in Bie's hands. Bie kept the pole in his leftmost hand as he picked the dog up by his stomach, tossing it towards its lunging compatriot. The dog bit down as orange blood sprayed from the wounds, an orange uncongealed sludge dirtying the marble terrain. Bie put all his might into the pole that remained in his hand, thrusting it deep into the creature's skull as jets of orange splattered his face. The pole gave a whimper before shattering, digging into the dog's lifeless eyes.
He was getting agitated, momentarily slowing when he saw that there were no more opponents in the immediate area. This is what the red dogs in the darkness were waiting for, as five quickly shot towards the boy's blood slathered form, dripping streams of salivation on their way. They were a bit too eager though, as Bie hadn't really lost his focus and was more loosening up his tightened muscles in anticipation.
The dogs climbed up and over each other as they rained down on the Guide, who in turn kicked up the freshly impaled dog and sent another kick upwards as it collided with the falling dog diverted its trajectory. It was not Bie's aim, sure, as he wasn't nearly skilled enough to perfectly execute such a quick movement, but his mind was adept enough to improvise as he went along. His muscles tightened and tugged along as he repositioned himself, sending his hand out to grab the flailing dog and pushed it into another.
That left three dogs open to send their own bodies towards him, and Bie ducked and rolled underneath their pounces, pulling out a dagger from his bag and jabbing at one of the dog's stomachs as he passed them. The dagger returned half smashed at the blade, and Bie gave out a sheepish look as he clenched the hilt tight. One of the dogs got unlucky and ended up splayed out on the spikes on the wall it landed against, lifeblood escaping the numerous punctures they left. Bie laughed a little at that and turned towards the dogs that were getting up and thumped his heel on the ground, dashing straight towards them.
The soft giggle surprised the dogs, and they faltered in their movements long enough for Bie to angle his feet straight down on the head of the dog closest to standing up. He jammed the broken dagger deep into its socket and stirred as the hilt was ground into dust, letting go of it once it became a fine powder. The dog meekly struggled, swinging its claws and waving its feet as the crests gleamed in desperation. Bie watched with interest as the dog began dismantling its ally, as it was unable to differentiate it from the supposed prey that had harmed it greatly in the first place.
Pa pa pa pa pa, was the sound of the two dogs gunning straight for Bie, this time holding themselves close to the ground as if they learned not to aerially assault him again if they didn't want to be batted away. Bie's eyes curled up into crescent moons, though he suddenly became aware of the red glares that seemed to be locked on his every move.
He drew two broadaxes in either hand and brought them down on the approaching snouts, before pulling them back and repeatedly bashing the dogs until both the weapons and their legs gave out, the weapons shattering into debris that dug deep into the surrounding carcasses.
Bie was covered in warm orange blood at this point, the scent of rust assaulting his nostrils. He basked in the smell as his blood circulated rapidly, a strong sense of aggression commanding him to give his all to strike those in front of him down. As if in response, eight red beams of thick fur poised themselves before bolting for where he was situated, still slobbering thick globules of spit.
--
Bie was surrounded by twenty wolves, encircled by the dogs that locked the formation with their adjacent crests pushing into each other. Bie had nowhere to go, and the dogs ambushed him five at a time. Dodging and weaving around what he could and accepting what he couldn't, black and orange blood colored the ring he was locked inside of.
Every dull burst of pain beat against his muscles, an ache spreading all over his body. He did not receive these grievances without retribution, as corpses also scattered around the ring. The dogs actually did him a 'favor' by pulling away their dead kin, and creatures found a way to quickly replace any gaps in their formation caused by the brutal slaughter occurring.
The dogs were intelligent enough to stop assaulting Bie haphazardly and instead waited their turn as their fellows were slashed into or pierced. Their unified front did a lot to disrupt Bie's rhythm, and gashes and deep bites marred his skin. The worst part was that although Bie's endurance was working hard to cover his wounds, he felt the Ink in his body begin to wane despite not feeling tired as he fought. It must've been the fact that endless regeneration simply did not come without a cost, and he was paying that cost in Ink.
The dogs died without resentment, gladly biting and slashing and smashing as they were sent into the jaws of death. The only thing that assured Bie was that his legs were steady, his posture maintained as if he was a tree rooted to the ground. He was weathering a metaphorical storm as danger after danger crashed against his physique, pushing him into the maw of a dog, the trajectory of their claws, the blunt bash of their skulls as some even sacrificed themselves to tear into his flesh.
Black jets spurted. Orange splashes danced. Strike after strike resounded in the air as the two sides kept battering each other, as Bie had run out of weapons and resorted to the more ineffective fists. The crisscrossed x's dotting his right wrist flashed as the intensity of the strikes increased, and small wafts of steam arose from Bie's body.
The stalemate couldn't continue, and the wolves decided to abandon their lives gleefully as they walked all over each other, digging out each other's eyes or even out their kin's skulls as they dogpiled into a writhing mass that struck towards the Guide in the center.
The teeming bodies formed a hill that was locked by their joined crests, and all the teeth and outstretched claws found a surface to break in to. Depressions ran rampant, and streams of blood seeped out the gaps of the dog hill, but the dogs began to win. Bie was tossed around harder than he had suffered the entire battle, and chunks of flesh were ripped out of his body and spat in his face.
The smiling dogs were giddy, and they crashed into each other rabidly as they finally thought they had won. And logically, they were well on their way to victory.
But the world wasn't always a logical place, prone to sudden changes and circumstances that even the most astute couldn't anticipate them...