Once again, the scene played out with Noah conjuring a vivid drop of blood from his palm. Before he could offer it to Fenrir, the giant wolf eagerly enveloped Noah's hand and part of his forearm with his massive tongue. The gesture, which would have otherwise disgusted Noah, was mitigated by the protective layer of his equipment, sparing him the sensation of Fenrir's wet coursed tongue.
Noah's mind raced as the ants closed in. The blood pact was forged, binding him and Fenrir more closely than ever. He knew that to turn the tide of this battle, Fenrir needed an edge, a skill that could compare with Arachne's newfound skill, amplifying his formidable capabilities, giving him the ability to fight head on with the menacing queen who had yet to make a move.
He glanced at the approaching swarm, then back at Fenrir, his eyes filled with high expectation. "I haven't used this skill as often, but I don't consider it my trump card for no good reason. Make me proud boy."
