Gavalich had thought this would be easier once he transformed. That was the plan. Rely on raw strength, overwhelm them, end it fast.
That plan didn't last long.
The moment the werebears started moving together, he understood the mistake.
There was strength in numbers. Real strength. Not the kind you could push through with brute force alone.
They didn't rush blindly. They pressured him. Took turns. One attacked, another followed, a third waited for an opening. Simple, but effective.
And it worked.
They pushed him back.
They wounded him.
They slowed him down.
Every second dragged longer than it should have.
Every movement cost more than it should have.
Gavalich gritted his teeth.
He had been fighting like a beast.
That was the problem.
'I'm not thinking,' he realized.
Somewhere in the middle of all that chaos, he had dropped his head and picked up only his strength.
Bad trade.
He corrected it.
Fast.
He shifted his footing. Adjusted his stance. Timed his movements instead of forcing them.
The difference showed immediately.
He broke their rhythm.
One step to the side.
A pull.
A twist.
Two of the werebears lost their grip on him and were forced off balance.
That was enough.
He created space.
Not much, but enough.
Now only one remained on him.
The one on his back.
Its jaws were still locked on his neck.
Still biting.
Still holding.
But something had changed.
Gavalich felt it clearly now.
The pain wasn't the same anymore.
The pressure was weaker.
The bite… wasn't reaching deep.
It wasn't threatening.
His eyes narrowed.
'so that's it,' he thought.
He didn't hesitate.
He moved.
His body swung hard to the side, using his full weight.
At the same time, his hand reached back, grabbing at the werebear and pulling against its hold.
The motion was rough. Violent.
Enough to break its grip.
The werebear lost its hold and was thrown off him.
It hit the ground hard.
Gavalich didn't pause.
The moment it left his back, he stepped in.
Fast.
He rushed straight toward the one he had just flung aside.
However, the moment he got close, Gavalich noticed something was off.
The werebear he had just thrown aside… wasn't getting up.
It twitched slightly. Its chest rose and fell. It was alive.
But that was it.
No movement.
No strength to stand.
Gavalich slowed.
His eyes shifted.
He looked around.
The others…
Same thing.
The ones he had sent flying earlier were still down. Not dead, but finished. Their bodies barely moved against the snow.
Even the ones still on their feet didn't look right.
They staggered.
Their legs shook.
Their breaths were heavy.
Like something had been drained out of them.
Gavalich's gaze hardened.
He followed the pattern.
Then he saw him.
A single figure walking calmly through the field of fallen werebears.
No rush.
No panic.
Just steady steps.
Clifford.
Gavalich let out a breath through his teeth.
'so your tricky ass finally decided to help out,' he thought.
"why… why didn't you help me earlier?" Gavalich said.
The words came out rough, deeper, but clear.
He paused for half a second.
'so I can talk like this,' he noted.
Clifford stopped walking.
He turned his head slightly, looking at Gavalich like the question didn't quite make sense.
"You really think I didn't help?" Clifford said.
His tone was calm. Almost flat.
"how about you check your wounds."
Gavalich frowned.
He looked down at himself.
White fur… stained.
Dark patches of blood spread across his body. Some thick. Some light. Hard to tell what came from where.
But there was something missing.
Pain.
Real pain.
The kind that slows you down.
The kind that makes you bleed out.
He flexed his arm.
Nothing.
He moved his shoulder.
Still nothing.
No deep injuries.
No open wounds.
Just torn clothes and surface marks.
His eyes narrowed.
"I shared one of the werebear's energy with you," Clifford said.
"And your body chose to use it for healing instead of boosting your strength."
He took a few more steps forward, passing another fallen werebear without even looking at it.
"makes sense, if you think about it."
Gavalich stayed quiet, listening.
"what's the point of more strength if your body is already breaking down?" Clifford continued.
"healing keeps you in the fight longer."
A small pause.
Then—
"and right now, that matters more."
Gavalich let out a slow breath. A rough one. He didn't fully understand this form yet, and he didn't fully understand Clifford's power either. Right now, that wasn't his focus.
No point overthinking it in the middle of a fight.
He let it go.
His attention shifted.
Back to the field.
Every werebear was down.
Not dead. Just empty.
Their bodies lay across the snow, chests rising faintly, but no strength left to move. The fight had been drained out of them completely.
Gavalich's shoulders eased slightly.
The pressure was gone.
"well… seems like we are done here," Clifford said.
He sounded relaxed. Too relaxed for someone who had just turned a battlefield upside down.
"And I got quite a lot out of this."
His eyes dipped for a moment.
Not physically.
Internally.
To that place only he could see.
His energy store.
A separate space within his sea of consciousness. Quiet. contained. waiting.
And right now… full.
Packed.
Energy from the werebears sat there, heavy and steady. Not wild. Not chaotic. Just stored power, waiting to be used.
Clifford studied it for a second.
Satisfied.
He couldn't use it directly for himself. That was the limitation. But that didn't make it useless. Far from it.
Gavalich watched him.
Then it clicked.
'with that much energy… we won't run dry easily later,' Gavalich thought.
He rolled his shoulders slightly, testing his body again.
Still fine.
Still holding.
Energy inside a body did two simple things.
First, it kept you going.
More energy meant more attacks, more techniques, more endurance. Less chance of running empty in the middle of a fight.
Second… healing.
But that only worked for warriors built for it.
Bodies like Gavalich's, especially in this form, could take that energy and turn it into recovery. Close wounds. hold muscles together. keep fighting even when they should have dropped.
Mages didn't have that luxury.
They needed spells. Or help.
Different paths. Same battlefield.
Clifford lifted his head slightly, already thinking ahead.
Planning.
Calculating.
Gavalich noticed it.
'he's already moving to the next step,' he thought.
That was just how Clifford worked.
No wasted time.
No wasted gain.
Gavalich glanced back at the werebears one more time.
Then he spoke.
"what should we do with them?"
"We leave them," Clifford said.
No hesitation. No second thought.
"They'll die on their own. Starvation or collapse. When they wake up, there'll be nothing left in them. No energy to move, no strength to hunt."
Gavalich looked back at the fallen werebears.
Silent.
Still.
Finished.
Clifford turned away first.
"I think we should move," he added. "The others… their energy has been unstable for a while now."
He glanced at Gavalich.
Not casually.
He was observing.
Measuring.
Gavalich caught it.
"why are you looking at me like that?" he asked.
Clifford didn't answer immediately.
Instead—
Movement.
A large werebear tore across the snow on all fours. Fast. Smooth. Each step kicking up a trail of white behind it.
On its back—
A figure.
Clinging tight.
Balanced.
Gavalich.
He had shifted his weight forward, gripping firmly as the beast body carried him ahead.
Clifford rode along without struggle, steady as if this was planned from the start.
No wasted motion.
No wasted time.
They moved.
Fast.
Their figures cut through the white field, shrinking with distance until they were nothing but shadows against the snow.
Then—
Gone.
Silence returned.
Cold.
Still.
For a few seconds, nothing moved.
Then—
The snow shifted.
A slight rise.
Then another.
Two figures emerged slowly from beneath the surface, pushing through the white layer as if they had been part of it all along.
Snow slid off their shoulders.
Fell from their arms.
Revealed.
Cloaked.
Long white cloaks covered their bodies, marked with thin blue lines forming intricate patterns across the fabric.
Their hoods were up.
Faces hidden.
Not by shadow alone.
Something deeper.
From the front, there was nothing to see. Just darkness where a face should be.
One of them turned slightly.
"why didn't you want us to confront them?" the first asked.
The other remained still for a moment.
Then—
"they are not my priority," he replied.
Calm.
Flat.
Certain.
He raised his hand slowly.
Palm open.
Facing the field of unconscious werebears.
Then—
It happened.
No warning.
No build-up.
Every single body—
Exploded.
Blood burst outward, staining the snow in wide, violent arcs. Red spreading across white in an instant.
The air filled with the metallic scent.
Thick.
Heavy.
The second cloaked figure didn't move.
But there was a shift in his posture.
"…"
The first figure lowered his hand.
"I only have one mission," he said.
A pause.
Then—
"to get to the Jovisrax."