Lucy exhaled slowly, his eyes locked on the ten-foot-tall Shadow Wolf before him. Its oily fur rippled like liquid obsidian, and its smoky mane lashed the air in slow, writhing motions. It paced around him in a slow circle, eyes gleaming with hunger—but more than that, with understanding.
It knew him.
It felt his fear, his strategy, his hesitation.
But Lucy had a new strategy now.
Emotional whiplash.
He smiled, cocky and arrogant—projecting confidence. The wolf's muscles coiled, sensing a preemptive strike.
Then he staggered, eyes wide in mock fear, body posture loose and panicked.
The wolf lunged.
Lucy spun out of the way with a shout of fake desperation—only to immediately channel pure rage, slamming a gust of wind beneath his feet and surging back toward the wolf, blade raised.
The beast reeled, confused for the first time.
His mind raced. His emotions spun.
Joy. Fury. Regret. Serenity. Panic. Determination.
