The dirt churned, gathering in Seth's palm as he dug his prosthetic hand into the ground, using the metallic limb to control and slow his careening landing, leaving a deep line in the ground where he had skidded.

His black blood had forced itself from underneath his skin once more, although it was hidden beneath a newly acquired set of pure white, carapace armour. However, beneath the armour it still covered every part of his body, all apart from his head, which left his face clear to the world. A face that was pale as death, with a visible spider-web of evil, black veins which converged on his black and silver eyes.

This demonic face was twisted into an expression of blood lust and rage, his silver eyes seemingly gaining a brighter hue - almost as if they were burning white hot suns of pure, radiant rage - as he stared at the ragged, unmoving body of Omelette the Wyvern.

There was, however, still some movement in his vision. But it was not something that would bring joy, like the small movements of Omelette's chest as he breathed... he couldn't even see that.

No, what he saw was the droplets of spittle flying from the slobbering maws of the encroaching Hell hounds as they turned towards Omelette's ragged body with fervour.

"Oh no the fuck you don't!"

Digging his fingers in deeper, Seth launched himself forward, using his arm to propel himself like a pouncing tiger. His body soared parallel to the ground, the grass below becoming nothing but a green blur that whizzed past just mere inches from his face, but he paid it absolutely no mind.

When he began to slow, he dug his limbs in and launched himself forward again, then again and again. He bounded across the open fields of the highlands like a savage, feral animal.

With one final push, the savage Seth launched himself over Omelette's body and slammed his shoulder into the stomach of Hell hound at the head of the pack, which was already pouncing on his pet while the others caught up.

He wrapped his arms tight around it's body, his momentum winning the battle as they were sent tumbling backwards and away from the vulnerable Wyvern. As they tumbled, claws scraped against armour, fingers dug into skin and fangs punctured flesh.

However, it was not the Hell hounds fangs that were doing the puncturing.

Liquid warmth burst into Seth's mouth as he dug his teeth into the soft flesh of the Hell hound in his grasp, it's lifeblood carrying with it the tangy taste of fresh iron as well as a hint of sulphur, like burnt eggs left to rot.

Even with the putrid taste flooding into his mouth, streaming over his tongue and dripping down his gullet, Seth refused to let go. Not yet at least.

When they finally hit the ground, he used to impact and wrenched his head back, tearing the hunk of flesh clean from the Hell hounds throat, forcing it to let out a choked whimper. Seth quickly rose to his feet, leaving it writhing on the floor with half of its throat missing, and sulphuric blood spurting from the wound like a garden sprinkler.

Yet even despite the seeming fatality of this wound, Seth knew that the beast would live. Before his very eyes, the torn strands of flesh began to wriggle like dancing worms and elongate as the wound slowly regenerated and stitched itself back together. At the very least, this Hell hound would be out of the fight for a minute, maybe a little less.

It wasn't a futile effort, however. As Seth rose to his feet, he was met with the sight of the rest of the pack, who had come to a screeching halt. Their charge broken, they stood around him in a fractured half circle, staring at him with a mixture of rage, and more importantly, wariness.

Seth's eyes, still glowing bright with rage, traced over the pack before landing on the largest and fiercest looking Hell hound, which was clear by the mane of flickering fire trailing down its back.

Tilting his head to the side, he looked deep in the pack-leaders eyes, in a direct challenge to it. Sulphuric blood dribbled from his red soaked lips and dripped from the tip of his chin, as Seth held the chunk of meat in his teeth. Although not for long.

Never breaking eye contact with the Hell hound, Seth tilted his head back and let the meat slide into his mouth before swallowing it whole. His throat bulged as the rancid, unchewed hunk of raw meat slid down his gullet.

If the taste of iron and rotten eggs phased Seth in the slightest, he never let it show on his face, even going so far as to lick his lips clean of blood as if he was relishing the taste.

Wisps of white smoke billowed from the collar of his ghostly white armour. The tendrils of smoke curled around his head, before solidifying into a fearsome helmet of the same chitinous plate as the rest of his armour.

With the helmet in place, his evil looking face was completely hidden. All that was visible of the pale skinned demon was the pair of pure white, glowing orbs bleeding through the slit in the helmets visor. His face hidden, Seth gazed over the Hell hound pack once more and saw nothing but fear.

They're tails tucked between their trembling legs as they ducked their heads, trying to look as small as possible whilst they staggered away from him. It was an intimidation tactic that almost worked, until the Pack leader let out a few snarling barks towards the other hell hounds.

Spittle flying as it chastised them, the only one not succumbing to its fear, although he could still see its presence lingering within it's body. At the pack leaders insistence, and no doubt threats, the beasts regained a fraction of their courage and began to bear their teeth.

"Fine then. Who's next?"

When he spoke, his voice rumbled in his throat and echoed within his helmet. His spear enlarged itself, nestling in his left hand as he slammed the butt of the shaft into the ground, the [Fjord Carver] manifesting itself in his other hand.

He pointed the blade forward, pointing it directly at the pack leader. Salt water glistened along the blades length and dripped from the tip, causing the wolves to growl with more fervour than before. Viewing the vile liquid like a vampire would view garlic, with a mixture of fear and utter hatred.

Eventually, one of the younger members of the pack couldn't take it any longer. It shuffled nervously, baring its teeth before lunging forwards. It's slobbering maw open wide, aiming to sink its teeth into the arm holding the cursed sword.

Although Seth might have had his eyes hidden behind the visor, he wasn't blind to this movement. Catching it out of his peripheral vision he yanked his arm back and, leaning on the embedded spear, replaced it with his leg.

Thunder echoed out as his shin collided with the Hell Hounds chest, it's ribs shattering under the force before its body shot backwards like a bullet from a gun. It hadn't even hit the ground before all shit broke loose.

The echoing explosion of force was taken like the starting pistol of a race as all the other Hell Hounds took the younger members initiative, lunging forwards just like their launched kin.

Spinning to the side to dodge the lunge of the closest Hell hound, Seth launched a black of briny water towards half of the pack, sending them reeling back as if just the mere touch would burn them.

His spear lifted itself from the ground, spinning in the air and immediately launching towards the pack leader, who took the blow without fear. A poor decision on its part. The spear pierced through its chest and exited from the other side with a spray of blood.

If the wolfen beast could smile, it undoubtedly would be at this moment. And then that smile would absolutely be wiped from its smug face when the previously useless and harmless spear dug itself deep into the ground.

The shaft of the spear still embedded in its flesh, anchoring the beast to the ground and stopping it from advancing.

It may have been stuck for the moment, but before the hollow eye sockets of its skull face, it could still see something others couldn't. It's pack were focused on the manbeast and the giant, feathered pile of meat.

But, forced to stay still, it found itself focusing on the ethereal threads that curled from the man like strands of endless fur. Many of them curled off into the air to dissipate into nothingness. But five of them swam through the air and connected themselves to the spear anchoring the Hell Hound to the ground.

It licked its slobbering maw with its incandescent tongue, before eagerly clamping it's teeth around the threads extending from the spear. A most wonderful sound tickling its ears just a moment later. The sound of excruciating pain echoing from behind a helmet.

AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGHHHHH!