"Will Lord Jonester win?"
Shire kept wiping away sweat with his handkerchief. It wasn't just his forehead-his whole body was drenched, as though he were the one fighting the werewolf rather than Mulan. After all, if Mulan lost, he would be utterly doomed.
Farolynch's already gloomy face grew darker still.
"We had better pray Lord Jonester wins. Otherwise, we have no hope of escaping that monster down there."
In truth, Farolynch thought there were two monsters down there, not one. Mulan Jonester, for all his gentlemanly appearance, was unquestionably a monster too.
Mulan had maintained both his tremendous speed and his strength at their limits. In his current condition, the strain was immense. Though nothing showed on the surface, his body had been bearing an enormous burden, and lactic acid had built up throughout his muscles.
Walton was right after all! But there's no way he can keep this up for long either!
In the instant Mulan spent thinking, the werewolf's body swelled rapidly in his vision. He abruptly rolled aside, swinging his sword in a horizontal slash, but the blade cut through empty air.
Damn!
Mulan's heart lurched. What he had struck was an afterimage. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of an open wolf's maw lunging in to bite.
Mulan had only just risen from his roll and was still regaining his balance. Fatigue weighed on both body and mind, and his missed sword stroke had thrown him off further. Together, these factors left him unable to dodge completely. He could only twist aside, keeping his head and neck out of reach.
"Roar!"
Silver Mane sank his teeth savagely into Mulan's left shoulder, while both claws raked toward the head Mulan had moved aside.
Clang! Clang!
With his sword in one hand and his gun