An Extra's Rise in an Eroge-Chapter 225: Fenrir [2]

The plan was simple on paper—distract Fenrir, keep him occupied, and buy Arthur the time to deliver the elixir.

But nothing about fighting a maddened god-beast was ever simple.

Arthur, Morrika, and the thirty remaining wolf warriors advanced cautiously toward Fenrir. The colossal wolf, bound by glowing golden chains, emitted a low, menacing growl. His eyes, burning crimson, locked onto the approaching group.​

"Spread out!" Morrika commanded. The warriors fanned out, attempting to encircle Fenrir. Their movements were tense, each step measured.​

Without warning, Fenrir's head snapped upward, and he unleashed a deafening howl. The force of the soundwave rippled through the air, sending shockwaves that knocked several warriors off their feet. Trees swayed violently, and loose debris scattered.​

Arthur braced himself, planting his sword into the ground to maintain balance. "He's using sonic attacks! Stay grounded!" he shouted over the din.​

Fenrir's massive paw slammed down, claws gouging deep trenches into the earth. A group of warriors narrowly dodged the attack, but one was caught by the edge, sent sprawling with a deep gash across his chest. He groaned, clutching the wound, but remained conscious.​

Morrika darted forward, her claws extending as she aimed for Fenrir's flank. She slashed, drawing a line of dark ichor, but Fenrir retaliated swiftly. His tail whipped around, catching her side and sending her tumbling. She gritted her teeth, pushing herself up despite the searing pain in her ribs.​

"Keep moving! Don't let him focus on any one of us!" she barked, rallying the warriors.​

Fenrir roared again, his claw slamming down with monstrous speed. A crater exploded where three warriors once stood, only one rolling out in time with a torn shoulder, the other two barely able to crawl.

"He's casting something!" Arthur shouted.

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The air sizzled with electricity.

A sphere of lightning gathered around Fenrir's body. With a flick of his neck, bolts of searing energy rained down across the battlefield. Explosions erupted in every direction. One wolfman was caught directly, his body crackling, twitching violently before collapsing with smoke rising from his armor.

Arthur clenched his jaw, his voice calm amidst the chaos. "Venom."

A black surge rushed up his arms as his symbiotic companion emerged, forming an organic armor over him. Arthur's eyes glowed—Foresight activated. His perception sharpened, slowing time around him.

He blurred.

Shadow Step.

In a blink, he dodged a lightning bolt, reappearing on a broken branch before leaping onto Fenrir's paw. The chains crackled, reacting to his presence. Fenrir snarled, trying to shake him off, but Arthur dug his blade in and surged upward, climbing like a blur of shadows.

Below, Morrika faced her own storm. She led a group in frontal assault, trying to draw attention away from Arthur. Claws clashed with corrupted fangs. Her body was a storm of blood and fury. Even when Fenrir's tail swept through her ranks like a wrecking ball, she stood firm, blood trailing from a gash across her thigh.

More wolfmen fell.

Not dead—but broken.

Yet through it all, they noticed something—Fenrir's attacks, monstrous as they were, lacked killing intent. As if something inside him held back at the last moment. His claws veered inches from vital organs. His howl avoided Morrika's core. There was madness… but not complete destruction.

"He's still in there," Morrika growled between ragged breaths. "He's still fighting it…"

Arthur leapt higher, now near Fenrir's neck, dodging wild magical lashes of corrupted wind and spectral fire. He weaved through it all—blades flashing, shadows bending around him.

"Incoming!" someone shouted.

A deafening thunderclap cracked across the sky as Fenrir unleashed a second storm. Bolts of jagged lightning tore through the battlefield, charring earth and flesh alike. Warriors screamed as they scattered, some shielding others with their bodies, some simply vanishing under the sheer force of the magic.

Arthur, still sprinting along Fenrir's trembling form, felt the heat graze his back. His barrier cracked, Venom howling in his head as they barely avoided being cooked alive.

"We don't have time," Arthur hissed. He flicked his wrist and formed a blade of shadow, launching it to pierce into one of Fenrir's burning chains—disrupting its energy just long enough to give him leverage to climb further.

Fenrir twisted, trying to shake Arthur off. His movements grew more violent, chains rattling and shrieking as ancient bindings fought against his raw power. The sword jammed through his maw glowed red-hot, as if reacting to the divine elixir now nearing its presence.

From below, Morrika—limping and bloodied—watched with clenched fists. Another of her warriors was blasted across the ground, his chest scorched and armor broken. She'd lost track of how many were down… But they were still alive. Just barely.

And all of them were watching that boy on the beast's back.

Arthur leapt again—Shadow Step activating mid-air—appearing just beside Fenrir's enormous snout. The beast twisted toward him, lips pulling back to reveal cracked, bloody fangs, drool and corrupted magic oozing between his teeth.

The madness in his eyes was boiling.

"Venom!" Arthur shouted.

The black symbiote slithered across his arm, morphing into a sleek gauntlet that held the glowing vial of divine elixir tightly in its grasp.

"Open wide, big guy."

Arthur kicked off Fenrir's chain-bound muzzle, launching into the air as a surge of wind exploded beneath him.

And he threw the vial.

The bottle flew true, spinning in slow motion—a glimmering hope slicing through the chaos—and shattered against Fenrir's tongue.

A radiant light burst outward.

Time froze.

Fenrir let out a soul-shaking roar—not of rage, but pain. Then silence. His entire body trembled violently, arcs of golden light rippling across his form, burning through the corrupted energy that had plagued him for decades.

The chains hissed.

Smoke billowed from the wounds where they burned his flesh. The golden collar pulsed as divine energy clashed with madness, forcing it to retreat. His claws slammed down once more, carving a massive trench through the corrupted earth—but it wasn't an attack.

It was a struggle.

Arthur landed hard on the ground, coughing, barely able to lift his head. He looked up—

—and saw Fenrir slump to his knees.

His wild eyes slowly dulled, turning from bloody crimson to a deep, glowing amber. His breath became steady. The corrupted air around them dissipated like smoke under the sun.

And then…

He sat.

A soft exhale left his massive frame. His eyes fluttered closed. For the first time in decades, Fenrir slept.

A wave of silence swept across the battlefield.

No more lightning. No more roars. No more blood spilling.

Just the sound of wind brushing through the blackened trees, and the distant groans of the wounded.

Arthur collapsed back, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His body was beaten, mana depleted, but he smiled faintly.

It was over.

Morrika limped over to him, her expression unreadable. Her armor was cracked, her limbs trembling, and blood still trailed down her cheek.

She dropped to her knees beside him.

"You did it…" she whispered.

Arthur cracked one eye open. "Told you I would."

Her gaze stayed on him for a moment longer, then she looked back at the massive slumbering beast. The divine beast they'd come to find. The one they nearly died for.

"The Wolf Tribe owes you a debt we can never repay," she said softly.

Arthur chuckled faintly, eyes closing again. "We'll talk about repayment later… when I can feel my legs again."