The Atrocious Werewolf Prince



Ezra stood wordlessly on the golden platform, drenched in his very own sweat. He gazed at other platforms, the pausing time suddenly resumed and all those halted action and spiritual techniques frozen in mid-air became active again.

The quietness changed into chaos as the mayhem of thousands of crushing bones, and clashing metals attacked Ezra's ears.

He glimpsed at the floating tree on which behemoth-ranked masters were sitting. To his shock, there seems to be no change in their expressions. The prince pivoted his head and squinted his eyes as he dwelt himself in deep ponder.

On the branches of a giant spiritual energy tree, Master Uxama gave a side-eye glance to Master Antero. "You felt it?" He questioned.

To which, the master of Arcane Wizardry Peak nodded his head.

"That was a neoteric attempt of Supreme Leader." Uxama mumbled.

"...Sshhh." Master Antero hushed and set his focus on the platforms.

These were not the only masters who understood what just happened, they simply ignored it or were trying to. Their eyes were now fixated on the young man in black, standing on the edge of the golden platform. The uncommon amount of sudor and his paled face gave them a hint of what just happened.

However, amongst the 7 leaders of 7 Peaks, there was one who was unknown to it. It was the man who represented Alchemic Rune Peak, oblivious to anything. He kept looking at the platforms, his face was desperate and gloomy as if he never belonged to the place where he was at.

From the army of disciples who stepped out, a boy spoke.

"Will you really take an oath?"

Ezra's eyes twitched, he remembered what was happening before the sudden arrival of the Supreme Leader.

He calmed himself and replied in the same domineering manner.

"Yes, why wouldn't I? I am a man of my word." He grinned but deep down in his corner there remained a sliver of uneasiness. "I'll take an oath, you will be surprised the moment you set your foot on the land of Bloodfang Kingdom."

Once again, the army of disciples fell silent and a few seconds later, a humming series of whispers followed. Resembling them to a giant buzzing business of flies.

<3rd Platform>

~CLANG CLANG~

Zulfi and Paul were in a heated battle, and the colliding sound of sword versus glaive resounded in the vicinity of their platform.

Paul Channa wielded a golden glaive, his natural good looks and decent level of attire gave him a royal look. The constant smile on his face that didn't budge even after feeling a long sword almost kissing his neck was eye-catching. He wore unique grade armour and braces, protecting his chest and limbs. Be that as it may, his neck, head, shoulders and thighs were vulnerable.

Contrary to him, his opponent was in full armour. Zulfi Dimitry wore a special grade set of light armour, even his shoulders and thighs were protected. With the exceptions of neck and joints, of course, he wore a light armour not a heavy one like Shifa Pista.

The helmet Zulfi Dimitry wore was covering his entire head, leaving a T-shaped opening for his eyes and mouth. The entire armour cooperated with his long sword - Paladin's Pledge. Apart from that, another notable thing in Zulfi's armour was a white-coloured cloak, attached to his shoulders. It flattered each time they swung their weapons.I think you should take a look at

In terms of armaments, Paul Channa was already defeated. But, how could a man who survived in an infamous and strong clan with all odds against him admit defeat?

Zufli swung his Paladin's Pledge and Paul waved his Reverie Light.

~CLANG~

Another deafening clash occurred, the impact of powerful qi forced them into making distance.

Both special tier weapons vibrated by the bout, and Zulfi dashed forward. He thrust his sword, aiming at the neck of Paul. The latter held the glaive masterly, the blade of the glaive was facing the feet of Zulfi, and it was at an acute angle.

With one hand slightly below the end of the glaive's rod and the other at the centre of it. Paul quickly jerked his hand, and the rod of the glaive hit the incoming sword's left side.

The sword was pushed towards the right side, the thrust had a reasonable amount of power backing it. With the sword parried, Zulfi lost his balance. With his sword out of the way, his body was open to be attacked.

Paul smiled as he saw an opening, he quickly wheeled his hand, gripped the end of the glaive with one of his one hand and placed the palm of his other below the rod, a little ahead of the middle. He glided forward a bit and pushed the end of the rod down while gently jerking the palm upwards.

The blade of the glaive which was facing the feet of Zulfi, cleaved the air as it ascended. The target was to cut the imbalanced swordsman from his abdomen to his chest.

~DHAAM~

"Huh!" Paul's eyes widened, before the glaive could reach his abdomen, Zulfi stomped the glaive's rod slightly below the blade and shoved it into the ground.

Before Paul could even think of a counter, the off-white long sword was smiling at his neck. He let go of the glaive and jolted backwards.

~SWIISSSH~

A thin line appeared on his throat and soon, the line turned red with his blood.

Paul touched his neck and saw the blood, he smiled but this time, he smiled in bewilderment.

"I thought my blood would be golden." He chuckled and looked at Zulfi again. "My apologies, I underestimated you."

Paul was sapient, there was no flaw in his planning.

However, Zulfi was not a mundane swordsman. He already saw the position of the glaive and detected a possible counter, the moment his sword was parried. No! Even before the sword was parried, he knew what would happen.

It was all within his calculation, he was a didactic and seasoned swordsman. He sent his sword with a reasonable power, not too little not too much. He knew that the best way to handle a thrust is to parry it because it would make the swordsman lose his balance, thus, opening an attack spot.