Like the raptors, the direwolves attacked as a pack, though without the same level of coordination. Three wolves had broken away from the pack, streaking toward us without any hint of caution or stealth. They made up for that with speed, approaching at a pace that exceeded the raptors'. Their paws pounded the ground, kicking up plumes of needles and moss with each stride. With a powerful leap, the three wolves hurtled over the short barricades made from the raptors' corpses.

Esper had not hesitated. Her body thrummed with Energy. With casual ease, she skewered all three with invisible spears before they crested our barricades. They didn't—or couldn't—dodge. Their bodies jerked as invisible spears of focused force blew through them. Blood and viscera sprayed from their backs or flanks, but they kept much of their forward momentum.

"I can't pin them," she yelled.

They crashed heavily to the ground and slid, bringing them far too close to us. Each had a grievous wound to the chest or flank. Though one spasmed in pain on the ground, two rose despite the gaping holes in their torsos.

My forehead grew cool, and the snarling wolves froze in place, their lips curled back in vicious snarls, revealing fangs coated in crimson light.

What are these things? Why aren't they dead?

The answer to the first question was clear: wolves, though even a layman would call them distant relatives of the wolves I knew. Our attackers dwarfed the gray wolves on TV and in zoos. At around twice the size of their Earthen brethren, they stood only slightly smaller than the raptors that had hunted with the matriarch, but they were likely far stronger. Markings, glowing crimson, covered their broad chests and thick hind legs.

Everything here has to be bigger and deadlier…

We had our work cut out for us. The two wounded beasts that had vaulted the barricades would be on us in seconds, but another four or five direwolves waited in the wings. Holding back implied enough intelligence to wait for an opening—or maybe they were just too slow?

Not with my luck.

The three that had charged foamed at the mouth, and I found none of the expected intelligence in their eyes. They were beyond that. The hunt had consumed them. They'd shrug off anything short of a killing blow—not exactly my specialty…

Yep, our odds suck.

Even wounded, I had no chance of landing a hit on a direwolf and coming out unscathed. Except I didn't have another choice. They outnumbered us, and I had to delay as many as I could.

I dropped [Quicken Thoughts] and rushed forward only to be cut short by Esper's shout. "Don't!" She didn't add "you fool," probably because she didn't have time.

In hindsight, she had a point. Her [Field of Decay] could tear me apart, but I had [Suppress Growth]. We hadn't tested it against her aura, but it should buy me some protection against—

I reevaluated that thought as Esper erupted with power. The air grew heavy. My gut twisted, and a foul, bitter taste permeated my mouth. The wolves howled as brown-and-silver fur fell from their skin, leaving gray flesh streaked with red and dotted with blisters. The taut sacs of fluid coalesced into tense bullae, which popped in a spray of serous liquid. I couldn't help but dry-heave when the smell hit me.

Both wolves staggered and collapsed back to the ground. Their bodies stiffened, their backs arched, and their legs twitched rhythmically. Foam spewed from their mouths.

Are they having a seiz—

Our attackers didn't permit me more time to look. The direwolves waiting in the wings surged forward in a blur. My forehead cooled, and the world slowed. Those two direwolves next to us—as good as dead. However, we had four threats barreling toward us: from the front, the two largest, and from both flanks, the two smallest. They would hit with complete coordination; unimpeded, they would strike within seconds of each other.

The world sped up to a normal pace. Esper's Marks surged. [Sense Injury] flared, and the wolves to our front and left yelped in pain. However, [Sense Injury] showed nothing from our right.

A thump, then a thud. Tearing bark. A bestial growl.

I turned, finding a dazed direwolf staggering away from the tree it had crashed into. Chunks of bark fell from the trunk and its fur. However, its injuries amounted to little. Esper's aura wouldn't work in time.

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I moved to intercept it before I could second-guess myself.

I poured Energy into my knife, and a vicious crimson light coated the blade. I had only made it halfway across the short distance when it shook its head and snarled. Its golden-green eyes, showing far too much intelligence, pulsed with crimson. The markings on its chest and legs followed.

It saw the opening and leapt toward the real threat: Esper.

I had made the right decision. It wouldn't make it hurt any less.

I slammed into the direwolf. Like a car hitting a truck, it bowled through me, but I deflected the beast enough to avoid Esper. We crashed into the forest floor in a spray of dirt, moss, and needles. Stars flooded my vision, and my chest ached as I tried to breathe. However, I held onto my dagger. I slammed the wooden blade coated with crimson light into the side of the beast, and it pierced its skin with ease. Its hot, dank breath washed over me as it howled in pain and rage. Only judiciously applied [Quicken Thoughts] gave me enough warning to save my throat. I bent an arm in the way and forced the direwolf's head to the side.

It made multiple quick bites until its fangs found purchase on my left arm. My white coat's sleeve split, leaving my left arm bare. It clamped down on my arm, and through the sound of claws shredding cloth and flesh, I could make out the cracking of my bones as the direwolf clenched harder. Now I screamed in pain, jabbing my knife into the direwolf's flank, but this time the knife barely penetrated. It flickered between crimson and dull wood as pain shattered my concentration. I couldn't focus enough on my knife to keep the Energy flowing.

My left arm jerked to the left.

I found my center, and the knife blazed crimson. It sank deep into the direwolf's flank. A squeal came through clenched teeth, and then it bit down harder.

My arm jerked to the right.

I twisted the knife, but it stayed.

Fire burned through my chest and abdomen.

I withdrew it—dull wood. I slammed the flickering blade again and again into the direwolf's side until I regained the wherewithal to take a moment to think.

My forehead cooled. The skill flickered. Pain surged. My control fractured. The backlash built. I braced for impact, but just before it could throw me into unconsciousness, the backlash broke against something. The pain receded, an angry storm swirling in the background. There, but ignorable—for now.

Stuttering became still; time crawled.

I grasped the gift I was given and studied my strike. So much had been right. The blade's angle had let it slip between the ribs. Its path had put the blade on track for its vital organs. Through [Sense Injury], I picked up the damage to its lungs—but not its heart or great vessels. The direwolf was just too big; my knife, too short. I needed one or two more inches of penetration. If I had more strength or a better angle…

Something needed to change. Blindly stabbing with a knife intermittently coated with Energy wouldn't work. The direwolf's wounds were healing. The changes were invisible to the naked eye but not [Sense Injury]. If the direwolf restored enough of its strength, it would rip my arm right off.

I wasn't a [Warrior]. I was a [Physician]. I shouldn't be on the front lines. I needed time to prepare. I needed supplies. I needed to be free of the crushing weight of pain because whatever had provided a reprieve from the pain was fading. The dull churn of the background was becoming sharp surges. [Quicken Thoughts] moved closer to slipping out of my control.

I couldn't ignore the pain like so many Ættir did. If only I had Kyria Rhaptis's knife with the numbing enchantment, I'd jab the thing into my arm to do an ugly regional block. But that knife was so far from here, and I didn't have a method to perform a Bier block—or did I?

Pain is nothing but signals from nerves. Remove the input, remove the pain—at least the majority of it.

The targets came to me in a flash: the thalamus, the spinal cord, the nerve roots, and the nerves.

The thalamus—the simplest. A single, small stroke deep in the right side of the brain. But no chance that magical thalamotomy wouldn't leave me with any adverse effects. Nope. None at all.

The spinal cord—neither simple nor focal. But thanks to quirks in anatomy, I'd have to go higher than C6, which would risk the diaphragm. No thanks. No breathing, no fighting.

The nerve roots—lots to target, but unlike the first two options, they could regenerate—theoretically. If I lesioned the dorsal root before it merged with the ventral root, I'd get numbness without weakness.

The individual nerves—too many to count and no way to separate motor and sensory function. The direwolf was stronger, but I still needed an arm that wasn't flaccid.

I had one option: the dorsal root ganglia. But can I do it?

A completely unbiased source implied [Healers] didn't share my ethical boundaries, but that didn't give me a blank slate. Still, causing harm did not fall outside of the ethos of my profession. As a [Physician], I would be doing the same, just with a different set of tools at my disposal, and [Sterilize] would be that tool. I didn't have another option; [Suppress Growth], the next likely candidate, would have little effect on non-dividing neurons.

I turned my attention inward. Even though the dorsal root ganglia weren't injured, I located them with ease—too much ease.

This is only working because I'm the target…

I took one last look at the drops of saliva suspended in the air. This should work. As Esper had pounded into me, [Sterilize] would wipe out the Spark, and without a Spark, things died. Except in this case, those things were part of me…

I activated [Sterilize], dropping into [Quicken Thoughts] to guide the process. However, my plan immediately hit a roadblock. The Energy for [Sterilize] had already pooled. I double-checked. I wasn't in real time. [Quicken Thoughts] didn't freeze time; it just accelerated my cognition until the world crawled—but instantaneous was still faster.

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