Arthur healed his head firstly, but that used up a lot of stamina. His body felt weak, and he was miserable.
He was exhausted, injured, thirsty, and he was up against an opponent whose only weakness at the moment was that he was mildly tired.
'What even is there to do? I got all excited for nothing.'
He brought himself to his feet, panting heavily. Chad approached him, patting him on the shoulder.
"Alrighty dude, so you're gonna go for a 1-2, followed by a right hook, then a right uppercut," he said. Arthur looked at him confused, but was too tired to speak.
"Trust me bro that's what the voices are saying to do. Anyways, here it is! Ding ding ding!"
Arthur's eyes widened in fear as he quickly moved to look at Taylor, whose onslaught was already approaching. Arthur put his hands up to cover himself, though when Taylor reached him, he didn't attack instantaneously.
'Huh?'
Arthur's guard was that of blocking his face with his arms in an X shape, with his chin tucked to avoid an uppercut. He was still breathing quickly, too terrified to move. In response to his guard, Taylor attacked with a kick to the leg, blasting Arthur's right foot off the ground and crippling his balance.
Immediately, a fist was brought down to Arthur's gut, taking him to the ground with a great thud and blasting dirt away. Arthur vomited in his throat, but his jaw was grabbed, kept shut and unable to move.
Taylor stared into Arthur's eyes, before Arthur maneuvered his vomit through his teeth and behind his lips, spitting it out at Taylor's face. Taylor grunted, throwing Arthur away like a ragdoll, as he fell to the ground.
"MOTHERFUCKER, YOU—" Taylor raged, before Arthur used his ability, Blood Armory. The blood that was used to slick Taylor's face back, it was shaped into claws which impaled both of Taylor's eyes.
Arthur used a tree to support himself, expelling the vomit from his throat to clear himself up, before looking over at Taylor with tears in his eyes. This was perhaps the longest lasting pain he'd experienced in his life. He didn't cry of sadness, but of pain. When pain became too great, it would force tears out.
His vigor was gone. The adrenaline rush was over, and all he felt was exhaustion. His body was aching and shaking, being broken apart and cracks were appearing in his demeanor. His focus, his bloodlust was gone.
Consequence is the silencer of anger.
When faced with the consequence, his determination dissipated. When all of the legs on the stool known as Arthur broke, it collapsed, unable to be held by simple determination and excitement.
Arthur couldn't run either. His body simply wouldn't allow him to run. But he would struggle to move his body to fight back. And what befell him was an overwhelming helplessness.
'I can't do anything. The best I could do was blind him and cause him pain. I can't run, I can't hide. How'd he find me last time? I kept my breath… It was the Scent. He could smell me. I can't run, I can't hide. I can't fight either. I'm helpless, I can't…'
Despair. But then—
"Arthur."
Arthur turned his head to Chad, who spoke without a smile.
"Use him."
"What?"
"He's a weapon. Use him."
It took a moment to click. But when it did—
Arthur rushed at Taylor, having regained some stamina. The blood pooling down Taylor's face, Arthur grabbed it, transforming it into a proper blade.
When it came to Blood Armory, it wasn't a one to one correlation of blood. The less blood available led to smaller weapons, but the supernatural capabilities of Dragons allowed for leeway. If one received a cup of blood, it wasn't that they could only make a "cup's worth" of weapon or armor.
When it came to more blood on Taylor's face, Arthur could create a dagger, one that could pierce the flesh of dragons easily. And so, the man titled "the Dragon" took the knife, ripping it across Taylor's throat and slitting it.
Blood spurted onto the ground, and Arthur was met with a rush of joy, before it was cut short. Instantly, the wound was healed, and at little cost of stamina.
The "judge" by which stamina converted to healing was not based on how much it would benefit the dragon. The little amount of skin and artery that was sliced open, along with the in betweens, "cost" less than healing a broken foot.
Enraged, Taylor ignored all skill, deciding to settle things "like a dragon." He grabbed Arthur by the shoulders, brought him close and opened his mouth wide, delivering a brutal bite to Arthur's cheek. Arthur screamed, struggling to break free, yet Taylor continued all the same.
The right move would have been to turn his head into that of a dragon, before doing such a thing. If that were the case, his bite would have been powerful enough to deal more damage, with teeth meant to consume flesh. However, that move did not present itself as an option to the blindly raged Taylor.
Arthur stabbed Taylor in the stomach, though due to the adrenaline, it only seemed like a punch to the gut, leading Taylor to continue his grip with his fangs. Arthur's body gave one final push.
He ripped the blade out, and plunged it back in, again and again. He grunted loudly, screaming through his teeth as he continued the onslaught of stabs and penetrations. Once Taylor ripped his teeth out, having exited the confrontation with a chunk of flesh in his mouth.
Arthur disengaged, backing away, stumbling to his butt, looking up at Taylor, who chewed and gulped down his flesh. Taylor snarled like an animal, befitting that of the title "Silver Werewolf."
However, as he laughed, seeing the look of terror in Arthur's eyes, blood emerged from his mouth. He spit it out onto the ground, looking down at his stomach. Nothing could be seen, but there was a feeling of warmth in his stomach, causing Taylor to lift up his shirt.
What he saw was a dozen open holes, all leaking blood. Some stab wounds hit his intestines, some his ribs, and most importantly, his lungs. Such a wound drained his stamina, as his body wasn't receiving the oxygen it should have in order to satiate his muscles.
Chad appeared, taking his phone and taking a picture of the open wounds. "Hot damn, you got his ass, bro! Yeaahhh, beat his ass! I'm boutta post this shit to my MySpace account, the hoes gon' love this. You gon' get all the bitches now broski."
Of course Chad would still be actively using MySpace in this generation. The Silver Werewolf converted stamina to healing, repairing his wounds. However, Arthur wouldn't let such an incline in performance stand.
'I can transfigure the blood of who I touch! If I can just… just this—!'
Arthur flung his bloody hand out towards Taylor. Blood reached the pile of blood beneath Taylor, which had pooled from the slicing of his carotid.
"Vlad."
Saying the name of that emperor, a stake appeared, with Arthur's gamble paying off. By using his blood as a representative of "him," he could transfigure the blood from a distance. And with that…
The spike impaled Taylor through the gut, keeping him in place. Healing wasn't much of an option, as a spike was still present in his stomach. And so, he had to rip himself out of the spike.
However—
"SON OF A BITCH!" Arthur roared, pushing forward with the knife in hand. He jammed it into the chest of Taylor, looking him in the eyes as he did so with bloodthirsty intent.
'I just have to kill him, I have just to kill, I kill, I just kill, I have, I have kill, I kill!'
His rational thinking, his thought patterns jumbled from his beastly rage. Taylor punched Arthur in the head, knocking him back. However, Arthur, who had taken a few breaths to rest, reached forward, touching the pile of blood in Taylor's stomach, forming claws that stabbed into Taylor's gut.
And on that mass of claws, there was a conveniently shaped handle. Arthur grabbed it, and ripped it out of Taylor's stomach, ripping him open and causing yet another devastating injury that made his prior healing futile.
"ARGGHJHJJHRAA!!" Taylor roared out, vomiting up blood from his throat. His chest was stabbed, his guts torn apart, and impaled.
He made pathetic movements, like a dying deer. Arthur gazed onward, breathing heavily and collapsing to the ground with a small smirk.
'I did it, I won, I won.'
"OOH! Dangggg, I lowkey don't see how he can come back from this. Well then, that's that, I suppose," Chad said. "I declare the victor of this fight to be Arthur. Any and all attempts to continue the fight will be shut down by yours truly."
Arthur laughed to himself, placing his palm to his face. He couldn't contain his laugh of relief. However, it died down, looking at his opponent.
"A-agh, help, so-so, someone, please, help…" Taylor said, wiggling like a wounded animal. He was in pain. Trapped, with his internal organs bleeding profusely. And all Arthur could feel was a hint of pity.
He won the fight.
What had cost Taylor the victory, other than Chad's intervention, was his anger and his hubris. That anger led to an adrenaline rush, which denied his body the skills he'd honed. And his hubris, refusing to instantly kill Arthur, instead choosing to bash his head against a tree with impacts that weren't fatal, was what cost him.
In addition was the lack of information. Simply put, he wasn't even entirely sure of how Arthur's Dragon Art worked. Taylor's own Dragon Art merely amplified his strength when the moon was out, like a werewolf, so he couldn't respond with any flashy movements.
As Arthur thought about how he won, he listened to Taylor's whimper of pain.
To one who was used to fighting or killing, the sound of a painful whimpering of an opponent would be nothing, though an argument could be made for it being "pleasant" due to the likelihood of victory after such sounds were heard.
However, for Arthur, who was not accustomed to the lifestyle, those sounds were terrible. If Arthur killed him in the heat of battle, there would be nothing to speak of. However, the fight was over, he'd come out on top, and his opponent was slowly fading to death.
Arthur had no gripes with killing during a fight. His life was on the line, so naturally, his opponent would be held to that same standard. This too would be considered self defense, a consequence of the fight.
But hearing his opponent's painful, pitiable, pathetic, heart wrenching, depressing cries, it weakened his heart. Though completely illogical, stupid, and probably a decision to regret, Arthur made his choice.
Arthur had a weak heart. Which is why—
"I'd rather he didn't die in front of me. Chad, if you're willing, can you please remove him from that stake?"
Arthur made his demands clear. Chad shrugged his shoulders and ripped Taylor off of the spike, dropping him to the floor.
"Werewolf. I want you… I want you to heal. I won't attack you, I won't kill you. Nor do I want Chad to do so either. But… I'd rather not go home as a murderer," Arthur said plainly.
"Ooohhh, choosing to be a pacifist, eh? Well, fair 'nuff, I suppose. You heard the man, Taylor. Heal up, at least enough to spare your life. If you attack him, even after healing up, I'm gonna kill you."
Taylor whimpered, healing his stomach and chest. Now, he was fully out of energy, and completely unable to move. Arthur himself wasn't in a much better situation.
It was then that figures cloaked in black rushed, picking Taylor up. "Oh? You kill my family members?" Chad asked nonchalantly. "It's regrettable, but we've lost a few. We're retreating."
"Ahhhh, okie. Well, hope you had a good night. By the way, my broski totally whooped your guys' ass, so let it be known. Arthur Graves, 'The Dragon,' isn't someone to mess with."
"Hmph."
The figures rushed out into the night, leaving Arthur behind. It was then that the members of the family approached them. They were scuffed up and injured, but not dead.
No casualties on their side.
"Oh, sweet. Aren't you guys glad no one died?" Chad asked them calmly. "Yeah, no one but dad, whom you killed in cold blood!"
Pumped up by the heat of battle, Sun gained the rage to speak out against him. Chad tilted his head, still smiling.
"Oh, that? Well, he was kinda gross, having sex with his half sister. Plus, was it even that big of a deal?"
"YES, YES IT WAS! That was our father, our dad, we came out from him, he was necessary for us to have been given life, and yet you, you just… you killed him without even batting an eye! And you wonder why nobody likes you?! It's because you're a fucking psychopath, a spoiled brat who knows nothing of pain, you always get what you want because you were born special! You're annoying, you're a fucking burden to the entire family!"
Sun yelled, walking over and grabbing the collar of Chad's apron.
It was quiet.
"Well?! What do you have to say?! Or are you gonna kill me next, you fucking psycho?!" Sun screamed.
"Nah, you know I don't like doing anything like that. Honestly, you're free to have your thoughts on me," Chad said. "I live solely according to what pleases me and what the voices tell me to do. If you hate on me, that's cool, just don't touch my TV or my bro. If ya do, I'll kill you."
Chad shoved him away with one arm, turning away and beginning to walk out of the forest with his hands in his pockets.
"And also, I don't wonder why everyone hates me. I'm not the brightest, but it's not hard to tell why people don't like me. But that's fine with me, it won't change how I live out my existence."
…
Arthur had returned home to his dorm room.
He took a shower to wash away any blood, and quickly went to bed afterwards.
…
"Helloooo~ Is it true that you beat up Taylor Luna, the Silver Werewolf?" Lucy asked him.
This time, they were in a cafe, drinking coffee. Or, she was, Arthur himself was drinking a chocolate milkshake.
"Ah, yeah. I beat him," Arthur said, smiling a little bit. He was proud of himself, and he patted himself on the back. It was a victory for him, and he didn't even become a murderer, so he was satisfied.
"Ah, sweet. Though, I wonder, why didn't you kill him?"
So she said.