Fenrir's tall and striking figure usually made her stand out in a crowd, but beneath the towering werewolf shadow, she seemed almost petite, highlighting the shadow's immense size and the dreadful aura it exuded.
The werewolf shadow, with only its upper body visible, crossed its claws to block the strike. The living, pitch-black blade seemed stuck halfway through its claws, unable to cut further.
"Is that all?"
Her body began to swell, fluffy ears emerging atop her head, and a bulge forming at her tailbone. Fenrir grinned, a smile filled with natural provocation and anticipation, devoid of any pretense.
"Don't underestimate me, Faust, I am—"
"Roar!"
Fenrir's pupils contracted to the extreme.
She didn't have time for any bold declarations or fierce proclamations. That roar wasn't a warrior's exultation but a cry of demise.
