The footsteps stopped.
Now standing just meters away was the Fenrir king, Harra. His massive form towering over them, reducing the group to pebble-like insignificance.
Harra's pale eyes swept across all six figures before settling on Sirius. His mouth didn't move, but the words came anyway, clear and resonant, carried on by a ripple of distorted mana that twisted the air into sound.
"You cannot wash off your human stench." The Fenrir king said, "No matter how much silk you bathe in."
Sirius raised a hand to restrain his companions.
"The Minotaurs are planning an attack on your clan," he stated, holding Harra's gaze. "You may be strong, but you'll lose. You know this."
Harra studied him. "What are you planning? How did you infiltrate the barrier? Have you come to finish what you all started?"
Information.
Sirius seized the opening.
"What do you mean... what did we start?"
The Fenrir king turned his head slightly, as if listening to the wind. "I was mistaken. You're more than human. That explains your kingship." His focus returned to Sirius. "What do you want?"
No dice.
Sirius decided not to press further.
"The Minotaurs are coming to conquer your clan." He revealed, "As we speak, they're on their way here, not even four miles away–"
"I'm aware," Harra interrupted. "Their bloodlust is poorly concealed."
"And you'll just let it happen?" Sirius challenged. "Let them take everything?"
"By the world's laws," Harra said calmly, "I've slain kings myself. Why should I fear when the wheel turns against me?"
Sirius barely knew Harra, but the Fenrir's composure and the complete lack of reaction from his subjects spoke volumes. This wasn't shock or resignation, but the quiet acceptance of an inevitable cycle.
"I am strong," Harra continued. "But my race can be enslaved, just as the Djinn became the elves advisors."
Sirius clenched his jaw.
Their entire plan depended on Harra's will to fight and he'd already surrendered.
"You'll yield without even trying?" Sirius pressed.
"Won't you?" Harra's mana-voice vibrated the air. "Your aura is sharp, it pricks against my skin like needles, but Fignar would crush you like a gnat."
"Not so sure about that," Sirius bluffed.
"Because you killed Horst?" Harra's laugh rumbled without moving his maw. "That fraud only ruled because Borcust gifted power to his daughter. He isn't comparable to half my strength."
That was true.
Horst's aura had pierced like nails, but Harra's crushed like a forge hammer, relentless until knees buckled. Sirius glanced at his men, impressed by their composure.
"Four hundred and fifty Fenrir," Sirius counted. "You'll watch them become slaves—"
"What do you want, Spider King—"
"Arachne," Sirius corrected.
"...Arachne King," Harra amended. "If you came only to warn me of doom, I thank you. But I'll retire now."
"We can defeat him together," Sirius urged.
"Do you understand Minotaurs?" Harra's mana-voice darkened. "Each is a murderous titan who follows only strength. When their king falls, another simply rises."
"Still—"
"Should we fight until extinction?" Harra asked. "As you said I'll lose. I know this."
"So you won't try?"
Harra's ears twitched. "Would you leap into a grave to rescue yesterday's corpse? Some events can't be undone."
"This isn't over yet—"
"You fear what comes after us," Harra interrupted. "The Minotaurs turning your lands to ash, riding on enslaved Fenrir. You're not wrong." His tail flicked dismissively. "But some tides can't be fought."
Sirius didn't say anything.
There was nothing to say.
"I appreciate the warning, Arachne King." Harra turned, exposing his vulnerable back—the ultimate dismissal. Around them, growls rippled through the pack. "Leave now. My children hunger."
Failure.
Harra had measured their mana in a glance, knew their strength wasn't enough. No words could change that fact.
Fangs gleamed as the circle tightened. Sirius searched for arguments that didn't exist. Had he misplayed this? Said the wrong words? Or was some fate truly inevitable?
He had presented a situation both sides needed to resolve together.
It was an undeniable common interest.
Even if the alliance was a gamble, it was better than silence. Better than doing nothing.
So why was Harra hesitating?
There had to be something more. A missing piece. Sirius bit his tongue, frustrated again by how little he knew. If only he understood their history—maybe then, he could've changed the outcome.
Then it clicked.
"You're scared," Sirius muttered.
The growling around them ceased, a sudden silence falling as the Fenrir King turned his gaze again.
"Battles between kings," Sirius continued, "don't end clean. I almost died fighting Horst, so I know exactly how it feels."
The Fenrir king's growl vibrated the ground beneath them.
"But you?" Sirius stepped forward. "You don't have a single scar. Not one. That means you've never fought someone you weren't sure you could beat."
Harra's footsteps echoed as he approached, slow and deliberate.
"The stench, the fear, the bloodlust... calling Horst a fraud." Sirius let out a quiet laugh. "You weren't talking about him, were you?"
"Youweretalkingaboutyourself."
The clearing erupted. Fenrir warriors sprang forward, fangs dripping, claws straightened. Behind Sirius, Rue and Alaric's hands glowed with gathering mana.
But there wasn't a need.
Sirius let out a chuckle. "You won't fight me," he said. "You're not sure how it'd end, so you won't risk it."
Harra said nothing.
"So let me tell you this now." Sirius stepped forward, standing face-to-face with the towering beast, chin lifted. "I'm stronger than you."
Harra's eyes narrowed. "You don't look it."
"Wanna test that out?" Sirius asked.
The air thickened.
Their gazes locked like blades drawn in silence.
Harra's laugh rumbled like distant thunder. He retreated, massive haunches settling onto the sand. "You're bluffing... but I'll indulge you."
Sirius exhaled through his nose. For one terrifying heartbeat, he'd seen his head rolling across the black sands like a severed coconut.
"You knew?" Sirius wiped sweat from his brow.
"Child." Harra licked his chops. "I've eaten warlords who hid armies in their shadow. But mark this, my unscarred hide isn't from running."
Sirius clenched his jaw until iron flooded his mouth. Harra's unleashed mana tore at his flesh like a thousand razor winds. Around them, Fenrir warriors scattered, even beasts knew to flee a coming storm.
His own men fell to their feet, hands slamming against the ground as they struggled to keep breathing.
Then, silence.
The pressure vanished as suddenly as it came.
"I am strength tempered by wisdom," Harra continued, picking bone fragments from his teeth. "I know the stench of doomed battles."
Sirius said nothing, tasting copper where he'd bitten his tongue.
"That's your purpose." Harra's tail thumped the sand.
"Me?" Sirius's voice cracked.
"You're gloriously stupid." Harra's grin split his muzzle. "Stupid enough to lie to an elder. Stupid enough to believe you might win." The Fenrir king rose, shaking sand from his pelt. "So we'll play your game. My clan handles the Minotaurs."
"And mine?"
Harra's breath grew hot enough to blister paint. "You'll face Fignar." The name slithered between them like a death sentence. "May your ignorance sustain you... until you stand before him and understand."