Garou tightened his grip on the great axe. The light glinted off the double-bladed head exposing a litany of scuffs and nicks. Not for the first time, Garou found himself in the midst of a fight wishing he’d had his weapon serviced beforehand.

  His muscles tensed and a thin line of sweat fell across his brow and into his eye. The stinging sensation wasn’t altogether unwelcome. In fact, Garou welcomed the stinging pain. It reminded him of past glorious battles.

  He was a hulking brute of a man, exactly what you might expect of a barbarian. The axe’s weight felt reassuring in his hands as the monster whirled on him. Steel-claws whipped out as the lycan wolfman lunged forward. Normally, he would’ve timed his own attack to split the monster’s skull just before the claws landed, but he was in no condition to take the risk.

  The flat of the axe came up and rang like a bell when the claws drew sparks across the face. The force of the blow pushed Garou back a step and he struggled to regain his balance. Fresh blood dripped freely from the wound on his thigh. Too much longer and he wouldn’t have to worry about being eviscerated, he’d simply bleed out.

  “Grahhh!” he shouted.

  The [battle roar] shook the walls and he immediately felt a burst of energy shoot through his body. If he was lucky, it’d be enough to get him out alive.

  The roar had the opposite effect on the lycan, and just for a moment it hesitated.

  Instinctively, the butt-end of the axe shot out and struck the lycan across the face with a satisfying Thok!

  “Come on, you bastard!” Garou taunted.

  He took two steps forward, swinging the axe around and chopping across the monster’s chest. It roared in pain, but Garou didn’t stop. Two more swings and the axe drew blood, more glancing blows but it was enough.

  [Momentum] activated.

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

  Right on time, he thought.

  [Momentum] was the first skill Garou had unlocked after reaching the barbarian class. During any battle, if Garou was able to land three blows on a single opponent in succession, he received a +5 stat boost to all stats for three minutes or until he was incapacitated. It wasn’t much, but it would be enough to give him an advantage for the remainder of the fight.

  He heard a shout come from behind him. Something about staying close, but he ignored it. Better that he dispatched this opponent before going back to help the others. He just had to be quick about it.

  The lycan wasn’t just about to sit back and do nothing though. A steel-claw slipped past Garou’s block and dug into his ribs.

  WARNING: You are bleeding.

  The barbarian ignored the notification and settled for a violent kick to the werewolf’s ribs. He felt the sickening crunch as the monster’s bones gave way. In the back of his mind, Garou wondered with some measure of satisfaction if he’d punctured the monster’s lungs with that kick.

  While the monster was still stunned, Garou jumped forward, intending to finish the creature off with a two-handed blow. But before he could attack, the world went dark for a moment and Garou felt the dull impact of the tiled floor.

  He could feel the monster staring at him intently, expecting a ploy or a ruse.

  Have I been enchanted? Cursed, maybe? Garou thought to himself.

  He placed his palms on the ground and slowly pushed himself up. He could vaguely feel that the ground was wet, almost sticky. It wasn’t until he brought his palms into view that he saw the blood. The wounds on his thigh and ribs had soaked the ground.

  Right, he thought weakly. Lycans’ attacks have a bleed effect. Even a scratch from the bastards will bleed for a week.

  [Momentum] was likely the only thing that kept him from dying then and there. His mind was drifting, barely holding on to consciousness. Not nearly enough to take hold of his axe and deal even a modest blow to the monster.

  He could feel himself dimming as his body struggled to pump blood to his vital systems with two gaping holes.

  Damn, he thought before falling face first into a puddle of his own blood.

  The last thought he had before his vision clouded over was why his compatriots hadn’t backed him up when he needed them.

  Fools, he thought. Without me, what chance do you stand?