"How the hell did I get into this mess?!" Drave shouted, his voice rising in panic as he hastily raised his wand. A shimmering barrier of light erupted before him, barely stopping the claws of a fully transformed—and very, very drunk—Clovis. The werewolf's slashing claws scraped against the magical shield, each strike sending bright, splintering cracks across its surface.
Bystanders who had been enjoying their drinks moments ago were now scrambling for cover, diving behind overturned tables and barrels as chaos broke out. *I knew this would happen, I fucking knew it!* Drave thought, his eyes wide with desperation. His arms trembled under the strain of holding up the barrier, sweat dripping down his brow.
*And that woman left me alone to deal with him!* he fumed internally as his gaze flicked to Nariko. There she was—sprawled out on the tavern floor, passed out and grinning like an idiot, probably dreaming about chasing butterflies or something equally carefree. Meanwhile, Drave was left to fend off an out-of-control werewolf.
"Why the hell did I suggest we hang out!?" he cried, feeling the barrier splinter further. Hairline fractures spiderwebbed across the light, threatening to shatter entirely under Clovis's relentless, supernatural strength. *I should have stopped this hours ago!*
**Ten minutes ago**
"Could you two slow down, for the love of the goddess?" Drave begged, rubbing his temples in frustration as he watched Nariko and Clovis down their fifth bottle of alcohol. "I don't want to have to carry both of you back to the castle."
Nariko swayed in her seat, her tail wagging lazily behind her, eyes unfocused as she slurred, "Noooo wayyy, I haffta winnn… agains' him!" She jabbed a wobbly finger toward Clovis, or rather, the three Clovises she was seeing.
Clovis, equally smashed but with the added bonus of his werewolf pride on the line, grunted like a caveman. "Wolf must win. Wolf keep pride!" he barked, slamming an empty tankard on the table with a growl.
A small crowd had gathered around the two, egging them on with chants of "Drink! Drink! Drink!" The room buzzed with excitement as if this were some kind of sporting event, and Drave felt like the only person in the tavern with any sense left.
"Why are you two even having a drinking contest with this stuff?" Drave shouted, picking up one of the now-empty bottles. The liquid inside had been a potent, barely drinkable concoction that smelled more like paint thinner than anything remotely consumable. "This tastes atrocious!"
But his protests fell on deaf ears. Nariko and Clovis were too far gone, locked in some ridiculous, drunken duel of stupid pride, both too stubborn to back down. Drave sighed, setting the bottle down and sinking into his chair, already regretting his decision to spend the day with them.
He had no idea things were about to get much worse.
The waitress grabbed and poured the last of the strong brew into their tankards while Nariko and Clovis glared at each other across the table, both locked in what was supposed to be an intense, competitive stare—though given how drunk they were, it was more of a half-lidded, wobbly attempt at focus. The sloshing of alcohol splashed over the rims of their tankards as they grabbed for them, both eager to claim victory.
Drave, meanwhile, sat nearby with his face buried in his hands. *This is ridiculous…* he thought as he shook his head in exasperation.
As the crowd's chanting grew louder, Nariko and Clovis raised their drinks, downing them in unison. Just before Clovis could finish, though, his body gave out. His eyes widened, a shocked expression crossing his face as he dropped the tankard. Without warning, he vomited all over the tavern floor, earning a collective groan from the patrons. But then, the crowd erupted into cheers, announcing Nariko the victor as she finished her drink with a triumphant gulp.
"Looooser!" she slurred, pointing at Clovis and giggling with an intoxicated smugness.
Drave let out a long, tired sigh. "Great, you've had your fun. Can we please go back now? I've had enough of this insanity to last a decade," he grumbled, pushing his chair back as if ready to leave.
Nariko, still reveling in her victory, turned to Drave with a goofy grin, her tail wagging lazily behind her. "Cooome ooon, Drrravee, lettt's haff… a competishun toooo," she slurred, her words tumbling out more unintelligibly with each passing second as she raised her tankard to him.
Drave's eyes narrowed. "Are you insane? Absolutely not! We're leaving. Now." He snatched her tankard out of her hand as she pouted, "Awwww..." Her ears drooped as she put on her best attempt at puppy-dog eyes. "The puppy act isn't going to work on me," Drave added, unimpressed by her exaggerated, drunken display.
Drave then turned to Clovis, who was still sitting slumped over, muttering something under his breath. "And you," he said, pointing a stern finger, "we're leaving too. Get up."
Clovis, shaking his head slowly, responded in that same drunken caveman tone, "No, no, no…"
Drave blinked in disbelief. "What do you mean no? We're leaving, Clovis. Let's go!"
Clovis, still in his dazed state, mumbled, "Wolf not lose. Wolf can't lose."
Drave groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're still on about that stupid competition?" He was beyond fed up. Marching over to Clovis, he grabbed his shoulder to drag him up. "Come on, we're leaving—" he started but then froze.
Something felt off.
Underneath the fabric of Clovis's shirt, he felt the unmistakable texture of thick fur. *Oh no… please no...* he thought, panic rising in his chest as realization set in. He yanked his hand back, staring at Clovis with dread.
"Wolf. Don't. Lose!" Clovis roared, suddenly shoving Drave aside with alarming strength, sending him stumbling. The tavern's mood shifted in an instant. People backed away from Clovis, eyes wide with fear as the transformation began.
His body contorted, bones cracking and stretching. Fur erupted from beneath his clothes, and his growls grew deeper and more menacing.
Drave, catching his balance, looked up at the rapidly changing werewolf with a mix of horror and resignation. *Goddess, why?* he thought bitterly as Clovis fully transformed before his eyes.
An eight-foot-tall monstrosity loomed above Drave, its thick black fur bristling under the dim tavern lights. Clovis's werewolf form was nothing short of terrifying—bulging muscles rippled beneath his skin, digitigrade legs ending in sharp, clawed feet that seemed made for hunting prey in the dead of night. His elongated snout, lined with jagged teeth, curled in a vicious snarl, and his striking yellow eyes—those same wolfish eyes that had gleamed with competitive fire moments ago—now gleamed with an animalistic rage. The black fur covering his body seemed to absorb the light, making him appear as a shadowy beast, wild and untamed. Drave stood frozen for a split second, utterly gobsmacked. This was his first time seeing Clovis fully transformed, and the reality was far more intimidating than he had ever imagined. The sheer size of him, the way his chest heaved with every breath, exuding raw, predatory power left Drave utterly gobsmacked.
Clovis snarled, saliva dripping from his fanged maw as he inched closer. Drave, still in shock, managed to croak, "Oi, Nariko! Help—" But when he turned to her... Nariko was lying on the floor, snoring loudly, completely unconscious from the drinking competition. *That woman!* Drave thought furiously.
But before he could utter another word, a sharp, swishing sound cut through the air. Drave instinctively threw himself into a roll just as Clovis's claws tore through the tavern floorboards, splintering the wood where Drave had stood. The sheer power behind the swipe was terrifying.
Drave scrambled to his feet, brushing off the dust and pulling out a deep black wand from his robes. "Great. Guess I have to deal with you first, huh?" he muttered to himself, already feeling the headache this night was becoming.
Clovis, despite being a true werewolf with full control over his transformations, was far from composed. The alcohol had stripped away any semblance of reason, leaving behind a rage-fueled beast who had taken the drinking competition very, very seriously. Now, his sole focus was on the unfortunate soul closest to him. *Me!* Drave thought, as we return back to the present, Drave was still barely holding his barrier of light against Clovis's relentless assault. Each strike from the werewolf's slashing claws sent tremors through the shield, cracks spreading like spiderwebs with each hit. Drave gritted his teeth, his arms trembling under the strain of maintaining the spell.
With one final, thunderous blow, Clovis shattered the barrier, sending a wave of magical energy exploding outward. Drave was sent skidding backward, his feet struggling to find purchase on the tavern's wooden floor as he crashed into an overturned table. Both of them took a moment to recover, their gazes locking once more, the air between them crackling with tension.
*Great, just great…* Drave thought, his heart pounding in his chest. He was alone, and now he had the unenviable task of knocking out a raging werewolf—one that just so happened to be his comrade. Gripping his wand tighter, Drave knew one thing: he was in for a fight he didn't want but couldn't avoid.