The Lost Vanguard

The alley was silent except for the crunch of snow under Eric's boots as he advanced. His smirk was wide, his posture loose yet poised for confrontation.

"You're nothing, Alaric," he spat, his voice dripping with contempt. "A coward who can't even stand up for himself. Without that hunter, you'd already be dead."

The cold air stung my skin, but it was distant, muted by the growing roar inside me. My chest still ached from the wolf's claws, the bandages pulling with every breath, but the pain only fed the fire within me. I wasn't thinking anymore. I wasn't feeling. All that mattered was him.

Eric's fists clenched, his knuckles white against the dull light filtering through the alley. "What's wrong? Scared to fight without someone to save you?"

I stepped forward, my movements slow, deliberate. My gaze locked onto his, unblinking. The taunts rolled off me, meaningless noise compared to the storm brewing in my chest. I wasn't scared. I wasn't angry. I was waiting.

Eric took the bait. He lunged at me, his fist arcing toward my face with reckless force. I ducked, his knuckles grazing my temple as I moved. My body reacted instinctively, my shoulder driving into his chest. He stumbled back, his breath leaving him in a sharp grunt.

"That all you've got?" I said, my voice low and cold.

Eric's smirk faltered, his brows knitting together in frustration. "I'll show you what I've got!" he snarled, charging at me again. His fists flew in rapid succession, one catching my ribs and forcing the air from my lungs. The pain flared, sharp and immediate, but it didn't stop me.

It spurred me on.

I countered with a hard punch to his stomach, feeling the impact reverberate up my arm. Eric staggered, his eyes wide with surprise, but he didn't fall. He swung again, his fist catching my jaw and snapping my head to the side. The taste of blood filled my mouth, metallic and bitter.

And yet, I felt… alive.

The fire inside me roared, drowning out the sting of the blow. It wasn't just anger or pain fueling it—there was something else. A hunger. A twisted sense of satisfaction with every hit I landed, every pained grunt I forced from him. My lips twitched, a faint smile forming as the fire whispered for more.

I surged forward, grabbing his collar and driving my knee into his midsection. He doubled over, gasping, but I didn't let go. My fists came down on his back, each strike fueled by the unrelenting force coursing through me.

Eric managed to shove me off, his feet slipping in the snow as he tried to regain his footing. His face was flushed, his breaths ragged. He glared at me, his anger now tinged with something else—something that looked like fear.

"You think you're tough now, huh?" he spat, his voice shaky. "You're just a scared little kid pretending to be strong."

I didn't answer. The fire was too loud, too consuming. I stepped toward him, my fists raised, ready to end this. Eric swung wildly, his desperation making his movements erratic. I dodged easily, my fist connecting with his cheek. The force sent him spinning into the snow.

He didn't stay down. With a growl, he pushed himself up, blood dripping from his split lip. He charged again, his head lowered like a bull, but I sidestepped, my foot hooking his ankle and sending him sprawling. Before he could recover, I was on him.

My fists rained down, each strike heavier than the last. The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed in the narrow alley, mingling with Eric's grunts of pain. His hands came up to shield his face, but it wasn't enough. I could see the panic in his eyes, the realization that he couldn't win.

"Alaric, stop!" he shouted, his voice breaking. "Stop!"

But I couldn't. The fire wouldn't let me. My fists moved on their own, slamming into his arms, his chest, his face. Each blow sent a surge of twisted satisfaction through me, the hunger growing stronger with every hit. His blood spattered onto the snow, bright and vivid. It only made the fire burn brighter.

For the first time, I felt… joy. The fire inside me roared with approval, its heat spreading through my veins, demanding more. My lips curled into a smile, a sharp contrast to the chaos of my fists pounding into him.

"Please!" Eric's voice cracked, barely audible through the haze. His hands fell limp at his sides, his body no longer resisting. "Please…"

The words sliced through the fog in my mind, sharp and jarring. My fists froze mid-swing, hovering above his battered face. His eyes, swollen and bloodshot, stared up at me with a mixture of fear and pleading.

I blinked, the fire inside me flickering, uncertain. My chest heaved, my breath visible in the freezing air. Slowly, I sat back on my heels, my hands trembling. Blood dripped from my knuckles, staining the snow beneath me.

Eric lay motionless, his chest rising and falling in shallow gasps. His lips moved, forming words I couldn't hear. The sight of him—the blood, the bruises, the fear—sent a wave of nausea crashing over me.

What have I done?

I staggered to my feet, the world tilting around me. My legs felt weak, unsteady, as if they could give out at any moment. I stumbled back, my gaze never leaving Eric. He didn't move, didn't even try to sit up. The fight was over.

The silence in the alley was deafening. The snow, once pristine, was now marred with crimson streaks. My chest ached, not from the wound, but from the weight of what I'd done.

And then I heard it.

"Alaric."

The voice was clear, firm, and unfamiliar. It cut through the stillness like a knife, sending a shiver down my spine. My head snapped toward the sound, my breath catching in my throat.

At the edge of the alley, a figure stood. The light was too dim to make out details, but I could tell it was a woman. Her posture was rigid, commanding, and though I couldn't see her face, I could feel her gaze—piercing, unyielding.

"Alaric," she said again, her tone steady, but not unkind.

The fire inside me sputtered, its embers dying as a strange chill crept into its place. My body felt heavy, my arms hanging limply at my sides. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came.

I didn't move. I didn't breathe. I stood there, frozen in the shadows, the echoes of violence still ringing in my ears.