Roars cracked.
Fangs and claws rend flesh.
Flunra watched the crimson wolves kill each other in a frenzy. Such a fantastic sight.
Dwelling in the art of the ancient runes had not led him astray. Being close with the royal werewolves in the past made him familiar with the nature of each royal werewolf. Each full moon. And now—with his new chasm of ancient rune inside his mind, he could do more with his power.
Much, much more.
Ancient runes or formations that normally would need hours or even days to prepare, he created within seconds. He is a machine of versatility. And having to live as long as he did, there are not many things out there that could surprise him.
In under a minute, thousands of crimson wolves died.
Killed by their own.
As long as these creatures entered the range of the golden goo's scent, then they would be hypnotized.
Forced to use their claws on their kin.
"Flunra!"
A horned werewolf landed right behind, eyes glowing like magma.
Prince Alaric.
