Out on the battlefield, among the chaos of countless clashes, there was one fight everyone silently knew would be one of the hardest.
From conversations earlier, they had been warned: one of the most difficult opponents to face was the mysterious Werewolf wearing the iron mask. He wasn’t just another beastly fighter; he was dangerous in a way that unsettled even the Altereds.
And now, Innu and Apollo were standing right in front of him.
The masked figure’s presence was heavy. Each step he took seed asured, deliberate, as though he were a seasoned warrior walking onto a dueling stage, not a frenzied monster caught in the madness of battle.
“He really does look nacing...” Innu muttered, raising his twin axes, gripping them tight. His attempt at humor carried a nervous edge. “But, hey, how about going easy on ? I already took one of you guys down earlier. Taking out another one is going to be exhausting.” His eyes narrowed, the smirk fading. “Though... if I do, that’ll prove I should’ve been the one worthy of that Altered serum back then.”
That thought burned in his chest. Austin had been given the serum, not him. Even if, in hindsight, Innu was grateful he hadn’t been forced down that path, the feeling of being overlooked still lingered.
Before he could spiral, Apollo roared and transford, charging in on all fours.
Like Austin, his massive size ant his acceleration started slow, but once his montum built, it was like a runaway boulder. The ground trembled beneath his weight as he lunged for the Iron Masked Werewolf, claws wide, aiming to grapple him.
The enemy moved with uncanny grace. Just before Apollo’s hands could close, the masked Werewolf stepped back, twisted, and pushed off Apollo’s head with a palm strike. He vaulted cleanly over the giant wolf, landing behind him in a smooth arc.
Claws extended, tallic nails flashing, he slashed down Apollo’s back. The wounds cut deep, leaving long crimson streaks. Apollo bellowed, the pain driving his frenzy.
Before the masked figure could strike again, Innu darted forward, axes raised. He swung down hard, sparks flying as tal t claws.
Now it was Innu’s turn to trade blows with the masked Werewolf.
Innu’s movents were compact, sharp. Every strike ca from the lessons he had drilled into himself countless tis, fighting against Altered Hunters, gangsters, and now beasts. But as his axes clashed again and again with his opponent’s claws, he realized sothing unnerving.
This Werewolf wasn’t swinging wildly like a creature driven by instinct. No, every deflection, every parry was deliberate, precise. His claws didn’t crash against Innu’s weapons like blunt tools; they slid, redirected, and countered with frightening control.
“This guy... he’s fighting like a swordsman,” Innu thought, sweat pricking his brow.
His suspicion grew when a perfectly tid strike ca, knocking one of his axes from his hands and sending it spinning through the air.
The Werewolf raised his claw to follow up, to cut him down while he was disard,
But Apollo barreled in from the side, slamming into the masked figure with all his weight. The three of them crashed into the dirt.
Apollo snarled, pinning the Werewolf beneath his feet. Using what remained of his ntal strength, he forced icy energy into the ground, freezing it around the Werewolf’s limbs, trying to hold him in place.
“My axe, where’s my axe?!” Innu thought, panic flickering as his eyes darted across the field. He could’ve used his telekinesis, but his reserves were still recovering. He scrambled to retrieve it while Apollo struggled to keep their enemy pinned.
‘Why does this feel so familiar?’ Innu’s thoughts cut through the chaos as he replayed the short exchange. Those movents... that precision. He wasn’t just clawing at , he fought like a man trained with blades. Who even is the Iron Masked Wolf? We never saw him the last ti we faced Lupus, so where did he co from...?
When Innu grabbed his axe, he turned back to see Apollo hamring strikes into the Werewolf’s face with both fists. One blow, then another, each one cracking louder than the last.
But on the third swing, the Iron Masked Werewolf caught his wrists mid-strike. The claws clamped down, halting the giant’s montum.
It beca a battle of raw strength. Apollo pushed with all his might, muscles bulging, veins straining, the floor beneath them cracking from the pressure. The masked Werewolf pushed back just as fiercely, his claws digging into Apollo’s fur.
If this were one-on-one... I don’t think either of us could’ve lasted. Apollo realized. I only got him down because Innu distracted him. But I won’t let go. Not now.
Seeing the struggle, Innu acted. He raised his axe, Qi swirling faintly around it. With a grunt, he hurled it forward, controlling its spin mid-air with his telekinesis. The weapon tore through the battlefield, spinning like a deadly saw.
But just before it landed, the Werewolf let out a guttural roar. He twisted Apollo’s arms wide, breaking free of the pin. His claws shot forward, straight into Apollo’s chest.
Blood erupted across the mask as the claws pierced deep.
Apollo gasped, his roar cutting short.
A heartbeat later, the spinning axe crashed into the Werewolf’s face. The impact was brutal, knocking the Iron Masked Wolf back and rolling him across the ground.
Apollo fell onto his side, breathing raggedly, his strength bleeding out with every drop of blood.
Innu’s eyes went wide as he looked back.
The Werewolf staggered to his feet. The axe blow had shattered the mask, fragnts falling away to reveal the face beneath.
What Innu saw made his chest clench.
The creature’s snout was still wolfish, but patches of skin stretched bare along the jawline. Less fur. More human. It wasn’t the face of a beast, it was sothing caught in-between.
And with the mask gone, Innu’s eyes widened as recognition struck.
He knew this man.
He finally realized who had been hiding behind the Iron Mask all along.
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