But the strike didn't meet the werewolf.
It flew past him, cutting through the air before slamming into the wall behind.
The impact left a crater the size of a man's torso with dust spilling from the cracks.
Even though he didn't put much power in it… it scared the werewolf.
Azel exhaled and lowered his sword.
"I won't kill you right now," he said calmly. "You're right. You still have some use to me."
The werewolf or what remained of him let out a shaky breath.
Relief flooded his pale face, his chest rising and falling in shallow waves.
He was still alive.
For now at least.
"So," Azel began, taking a few steps back, "what's your name?"
The man's lips trembled as he struggled to speak, his body was still very weak from blood loss.
"M-my name is… Ravik," he rasped. "I… hope to be of use to you."
Azel almost laughed at the sincerity in his tone.
Werewolves really were simple creatures.
Defeat them, and they instantly shifted from enemies to loyal followers.
