"Please…" it hissed. "End it… I don't want to become like them…"
The trembling became worse. One eye turned fully crimson. The other soon followed.
Timur stepped forward. "Should we kill it?"
"It's begging for it," Robin muttered. "But if it dies… won't it trigger the last moon shift?"
Ludwig's voice was grim. "If we don't kill him… something worse might happen."
The werewolf opened its mouth one last time. Its voice was almost reverent.
"Thank you… young unde—"
Oathcarver came down in a single, vertical arc.
The blow cleaved the creature from shoulder to thigh in one savage, unmerciful stroke. The sound it made was not a scream, but a wet, final exhale—as if the breath had been held for centuries and finally let go.
The blade didn't stop at flesh.
It tore through the floor behind it, splitting the rotted wood and stone alike.
Silence fell.
Even the Reavers outside seemed to pause.
Ludwig stood still, Oathcarver buried deep into the earth.
