"Boom!" An afterimage tore through the air and collided with the wall of a derelict building. The werewolf leader grimaced in pain—he propped himself up on his broadsword with one hand and clutched his abdomen with the other, barely managing to stand before immediately spitting out a mouthful of blood.
"There's something off about that horse," he muttered, wiping the blood from his mouth and eying the eight-legged horse in the middle of the battlefield, his brows unconsciously furrowing.
But he soon abandoned any attempt to figure it out, taking out a vial of healing magic potion and guzzling it down. He followed it up with several bottles of strength-enhancing magic potion.
Then, with a fierce push from his legs, he leaped into the air, spinning once, and brought his broadsword slashing down.
Lion Slash!
