Chapter 26: The Trap and the Truth
"You want us to sit down?" Wolfen's eyes narrowed.
The one who looked like him smiled. "Yep."
"Do you think I'm stupid or something?"
"I think you're the biggest idiot out of all the Wolfens in existence—or whatever that concept is." He pointed at Wolfen's feet. "Because where you're standing is a trap."
Wolfen smiled. "Too bad someone else fell for that trap for me."
The one who looked like him raised an eyebrow.
The smoke cleared further. The Architect Wolfen stood frozen, his body impaled—Umbralite spikes driven through his chest, his stomach, his legs. Blood poured from his mouth, his nose, the wounds. His mask was cracked, hanging loose, revealing one wide eye.
"Ah." The one who looked like him nodded, impressed. "So you're decent. But how are you going to win a 4v1?"
"I've fought more." Wolfen vanished.
The other four vanished with him.
---
Firey lines trailed behind them, cutting through the ash, through the smoke, through the darkness. Wolfen moved between them, dodging beams from the fire Wolfen, sidestepping swipes from the zombie, weaving through the faceless one's attacks.
He saw it in slow motion.
A spear—Umbralite, black, hungry—flying toward his face.
Its tip was inches from his eye.
It went in.
Through his eye.
Out the other side.
Wolfen fell. Skidded. The spear dissolved, and the Umbralite spread—covering half his face, his mouth, his nose. He couldn't breathe. One eye was still open, still seeing, still watching.
The four walked toward him.
He tried to get up. More spears hit his back, pinning him to the ground.
The one who looked like him bent down, smiling.
"You want to know about the ones you killed? Listen closely."
---
"The scarred one—the one you burned to ash. Same beginning as the rest of us. A very fucked beginning. His story of misery had only just begun. He had no allies. Only enemies. And the Architect who created him turned against him because—quote—'you're a failure, like the others.' So he fought. And fought. And kept fighting. He once fought for eleven full days. Until he ended up here."
Wolfen watched him through his one eye.
"The laughing one? Straight up went insane. Couldn't handle it anymore. The still one? Emotionally dead. Literally. Felt nothing. Wanted nothing. Just existed."
He pointed at the zombie.
"This guy? He had it hard. Got betrayed by his supposed family. Trapped in a horde of—" He paused, thinking. "I think he said six hundred million."
"Six hundred million," the fire Wolfen confirmed.
"Six hundred million. Can you believe that? Betrayed by the people you love. Would you expect that? You probably would."
He pointed at the faceless one.
"He lost his identity. Doesn't think he's Wolfen Welfric anymore. Thinks he's someone else. But it's obvious, right? He's a Wolfen. Just lost his way."
The Architect Wolfen—the one he'd killed first—had become what he hated. Couldn't handle it anymore.
"The burning one lost control of his fire. Went on a rampage. Every time he uses fire, or gets hit by it, he absorbs it. Becomes more fire than flesh."
The one who looked like him gestured at himself.
"And me? I'm you. But I chose a path you haven't chosen yet."
He paused. "Oh. There was another one. The one the white-haired ice woman killed. I don't remember his story. Do you guys remember him?"
"Who cares?" someone said.
The one who looked like him turned back to Wolfen.
Wolfen's one eye was blinking. Not random—patterned. Measured.
B. O. O. M.
The one who looked like him's eyes widened.
BOOM.
The ground exploded. Massive. Devastating. A trap within a trap.
The one who looked like him laughed—a genuine, surprised laugh. "Hahahaha! So you used my tricks against me?"
"Your trick?" Wolfen was free now, healing, the Umbralite falling away from his face. "I made it before you did."
He activated pulse amplification. Blood rush. Solar lava—intensified, pushed past its limits.
He charged.
The faceless one raised its hands to block. Wolfen's fist went through them, through its face, through its head. The faceless one collapsed, twitching, dead.
He spun. Caught a fire beam from the burning one—both hands, stopping it inches from his chest. He pushed back. His own beam—solar, massive, hungry—hit the burning one.
The burning one absorbed it. Took it in. Became more fire than flesh. Then more fire than anything. Then just fire. Burning where he stood. No body. No bones. Just flames.
The zombie hit Wolfen from behind. Berserk. Relentless. Its fists pounded into his back, his shoulders, his head. Wolfen took it. Turned. Cut it in half with one clean, controlled strike.
The zombie didn't die. It grabbed Wolfen's hair, pulled his face close, and breathed fire into his eyes.
Wolfen's face burned. He cut the zombie vertically—from skull to pelvis—and it fell in two steaming halves.
His face healed.
The one who looked like him was laughing. Maniacally. He had figured out Wolfen's technique—just by watching.
Fire erupted around him.
Its color was grey.
Wolfen stared.
His pulse was skyrocketing—higher than Wolfen's. Higher than anyone's.
He sighed.
"Just die," Wolfen said.
"You said we're the versions in your head, right? Constantly shouting. And you've killed yourself in your thoughts—constantly, I'm sure." The one who looked like him smiled. "Well. I'm the one who's the most annoying to kill. I'm the version you dread the most, Wolfen Welfric."
Wolfen cracked his neck.
The fire burned. The ash fell. The two of them stood alone in the crater, the last two standing, and neither of them moved.