Chapter Sixty-Nine


    Ambrose allowed his mind to go cold. He often lapsed into an analytical state when searching for solutions in a fight. His thoughts were faster than lightning as he ran down the problems and possible solutions. The main problem was that he couldn’t use his skills. Fenrir devoured all magic, or in other words, mana-powered skills. Possible solutions included relying on sheer stats, attacking physically, and hoping that was enough.


    He discarded this approach. Fenrir’s cloak of black fire would merely get in the way, and it would drain his shield.


    His shield.


    Why hadn’t Fenrir devoured it? Every other skill had been devoured by the black fire, after all. He called up the very recent memories, like reviewing camera footage. Yes, Fenrir had bathed him in that hungry black fire. Yet he had not ended up like Noelle.


    [Infernal Aegis] had held.


    Why? He thought.


    His Icon, of course. He reinforced his ability with the Forge Icon, and that was a power on the same playing field as Fenrir’s own. Yes, the Nightmare Wolf’s Icon was more developed, but it couldn’t consume another Icon. If it could, Ambrose would have died in that initial fire at the start of the fight.


    The Forge Icon didn’t just reinforce; it enhanced, and it made things sharper.


    Ambrose walked forward, and when he was close to the demon wolf, it leaped at him, mouth open to swallow him whole.


    Ambrose Severen opened mini portals over his fists, wreathing them in infernal mana. As he did, he brought the Forge Icon to bear, enforcing his skills.


    So when his fist slugged the demigod wolf in the snout, it felt it.


    His fists were backed by his C-Grade strength and enhanced with his skills.


    Fenrir was knocked back as if hit by a speeding semi, hellfire blowing up in shards of brilliant flame and eldritch green light.


    Ambrose held the cloak in his hands, feeling that mental connection with Noelle, that bond he knew would be with him all his days.


    His eye settled on the chain length that crashed into the ground as Fenrir fell.


    Fenrir did not devour the magic of the chains.


    The enchantments upon it drew power from the legendary wolf monster. Did so in such a way that a once godly beast was now a C-grade being.


    He could only assume it was because an Icon had been used when crafting the enchantments. He wasn’t sure if that assumption was correct, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that the chains affected the wolf, giving him a plan.


    Using [Infernal Sanctuary] for the first time in a long time, he sent out chains forged seemingly forged from ghost light, moonbeams, and the infernal fires of hell itself.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    He wrapped the chains around Fenrir’s back legs, and the Forge Icon met the full pressure of Fenrir’s own.


    There was no way Ambrose was going to win out in that fight. His Icon would soon be overwhelmed, and his chains would be devoured.


    Seconds mattered in a fight, as Noelle’s indecision had shown. While that benefited Fenrir then, Ambrose had no such inexperience, and he knew how to capitalize on a second.


    He was already at work, kicking off his back foot in a run; he grabbed one of Fenrir’s heavy chains.


    If he hadn’t possessed C-Grade strength backed by his Icon, he never would have been able to lift the chain.


    But because he did, it was easy. Holding onto it, he rushed to the side of the wolf’s huge neck, the dragging of the great chain echoing all around.


    Fenrir tried to move, but Ambrose hopped over the great wolf in a great leap, bringing the chain over his neck and yanking downward; Fenrir stumbled, letting out a great yelping growl as he crashed back into the ground.


    Ambrose picked up the opposite chain as his infernal chains from infernal sanctuary burst apart.


    Now holding both of Fenrir’s chains around the monster wolf’s neck, he pulled hard on them, tightening them around its neck.


    He knew Fenrir would not allow himself to be choked, and Ambrose had prepared for that.


    I hope this works, he thought grimly.


    If it didn’t, he would have to find another way to kill the wolf. But he did not allow the doubt to bother him, merely sparing a thought to shove it in a mental hole.


    It was easy to pull on his spirit. He had control of his Icon in the sense that he could call upon it, but now he took it and forced it onto his spirit.


    The two forces pushed together like combining two different colors of play-dough.


    And then Ambrose brought that combined force down upon the wolf like a descending meteor.


    The hammer of his combined spirit, reinforced by the Force Icon pounded Fenrir into the ground.


    Ambrose tightened the chains around Fenrir.


    The wolf burst forth with that cloak of black fire, but with his combined spirit and Icon, Ambrose felt confident in being shielded from it.


    Then his awareness flared, and Ambrose looked up to see a blazing spear flying toward him, Eric smiling viciously.


    Ambrose was going to ignore it, but Fenrir shuddered, and the wolf’s spirit pulsed. The wolf bucked just as the spear took Ambrose in the shoulder.


    His Icon seemed to shake, the tip of the spear clanging against his armor as Ambrose lost his grip on the chains, and he was sent flying backward. He crashed into the ground as Fenrir rose, shaking off the chains.


    “How do you like gungnir? It’s supposed to repel Icons and pierce magical protections, so look at that! It worked!”


    Ambrose gritted his teeth and began to weave a portal, but Fenrir bathed him in stygian flame, and the portal was devoured. Then the massive wolf leaped onto Ambrose, pushing him down with a paw, that tartarian flame coating his form.


    Its great maw was dripping thick, moist saliva that would have gotten him wet were it not for his [Infernal Aegis] skill. It may have failed to keep the spear from piercing it, but it wasn’t failing with the black fire.


    If he didn’t do something soon, he was going to die.


    Fenrir leaned forward.


    Ambrose tried to portal away, but that devouring flame ate his skill.


    He looked into the monster’s dead eyes.


    And he knew he was going to die.


    Alice’s smiling face, her hand on her pregnant stomach, flashed through his mind.


    Memories of them rolling dice and laughing while they played Dungeons and Dragons played like an old movie across his mind’s eye, and from there, it rolled like a film reel.


    He and Alice are making love for the first time, her smoldering eyes never leaving his as they connect on the most intimate level one can.


    Her showing him the positive pregnancy test, and him smiling.


    Her grave and his vow of vengeance.


    Noelle’s twitching cat ears as she ran through the forest.


    And suddenly, Ambrose wanted it all to be worth it.


    I will not die here, not without ending that smug bastard first.


    Ambrose looked into what may have been the last pair of eyes he’d ever see and used his last card.


    But instead of targeting Fenrir’s outer body, he went deeper. He stared into the wolf’s eyes as his jaw was full of razor-sharp teeth meant to devour worlds closed around him.


    Through its eyes, he stared past the dead light, past the hunger, the long-dead pain, past its spirit, and found its heart.


    He uttered one word.


    “BREAK!”