Bound By The Blood Moon

Knowing there was no fleeing from this, Björn charged forward. There was no loud battle cry or any chants. Björn's body was completely covered, with only his eyes visible to Sledgehorn. They had turned to slits and they burned with rage.

Sledgehorn released a hearty laugh that made Björn's ears throb but his steps didn't falter. They swung at each other, weapons aiming for blood as they clashed continuously.

A downward cleave, a short stab, a wide kick, a punch thrown in anger, and another in desperation. They went at each other like beasts, with every move aiming for the kill.

There were cracks in Björn's armour, but they repaired themselves within seconds. His ferocity increased as he tightened his grip on his greatsword. He steadied his breathing, eyeing every joint on Sledgehorn's body as he calculated his next move.

Sledgehorn stood confident, not minding Björn's charge or making any move to block it. With brazen eyes, he caught Björn's blade with both hands before clashing heads with him. With a snicker, he wrestled the sword out of Björn's arms, leaving him stunned from the hit to his head. 

Struggling to pick himself up, Björn backed off with slow steps, but Sledgehorn wasn't done.

Björn would barely get ten steps in before Sledgehorn would charge forward, axe in hand and murderous intent blasting forth. With no weapon to defend himself, Björn crossed his arms and aimed for the axe's shaft.

But this time, steady eyes and a firm resolve wouldn't be enough.

The force of Sledgehorn's swing broke Björn's defence, tossing his arms aside. With his arms flailing from the force, Björn fell to his knees with a blank expression on his face.

He couldn't believe the immense strength he felt from Sledgehorn. Whatever ritual Sledgehorn performed with that weird dagger was more sinister and dangerous than he had estimated earlier.

He looked past Sledgehorn to find his sword lying on the ground, pulsing with blue streaks of lightning. He struggled to stand to his feet but his legs felt too tired.

In the next few seconds, he saw his life flash before him. 

The night he lost his parents to an attack on their village, raising his brother alone in the mountains, getting revenge for his parents, the many wars he fought as a Viking, the night he and his brother were turned by a pack of wolves, meeting Darren.

Everything up to that very moment and all he did was smile. 

He was going to give up as he watched Sledgehorn's axe swinging from the side. Then he remembered the smile of his wife and kids, his brother's smile, and Darren's smile.

Why should things end here and now? He wanted to see those smiles again, even if it was just for a moment.

Mustering all of his strength, he bent his head as he raised his right arm to block the axe. He could feel the axe dig into his flesh and bones as he rolled away. Gritting his teeth, he ignored the pain as he dashed for his greatsword.

In the seconds it took to reach it, he activated the forbidden rune of his armour. He bit his lip, drawing blood as he reached with his left thumb to draw a rune over his heart.

"Werewolf warrior, you're not getting away from me!"

Björn could hear Sledgehorn's footsteps behind him but he didn't dare to slow down. His sword was within reach and he needed it to complete the spell.

Grabbing the hilt with his left hand, he spat his blood on the blade. In a flash, the blade was covered in red flames, even darker than the red hue that surrounded Sledgehorn.

"Now, we go again."

Swinging the sword slowly, he prepared to meet Sledgehorn head-on.

They clashed again. Björn getting used to the loss of his right arm while pressuring Sledgehorn, swing after swing. Sledgehorn fought back with every ounce of his strength, his bleeding tattoos serving as a clear testament.

The ferocity in Björn's attacks turned Sledgehorn's body into a bloody mess as he struggled to fend off the attacks. A few minutes ago, he was in full control of the battle but it seemed to him that as Björn lost an arm, he gained unimaginable strength.

"Argh!!!"

Björn's voice was loud enough that the war took a short pause, searching for the source of the scream.

With the muscles of his left arm swelling as it filled with raw power, he drew a wide swing after knocking Sledgeorn's axe away. He bet every single thing he had on this last move. His blood was boiling, his armour nearly ripped to shreds and his helmet working as a decoration on his head.

Sledgehorn tried to roll away but his right foot got stuck in one of the many holes they had created during their battle. His eyes were full of fear, unbecoming of a demon general, as he watched the sword closing in.

It was almost silent. The blade moved through the air like it had cut nothing, with its edge utterly clean.

Sledgehorn knelt in front of Björn, or at least what was left of him.

Björn's swing had sliced off his right shoulder, most of his chest and half of his left arm. Sledgehorn's eyes still held lingering fear, even as his lips quivered and sputtered little drops of blood. The rest of his body fell flat and Björn finally breathed a sigh of relief.

It was over.

Losing all energy and his body hotter than a volcano, he sank to the floor. But just before his face hit the dirt, he was caught by Siestri.

"I gravely hope I am not too late."