The second one matched the first. They moved in tandem, maintaining a fixed distance from each other as they circled us, locking on.

  “Shadow Wolves!” Portia called out, her tail going stiff and straight behind her. “Pack hunters! They coordinate!”

  “Why are there two? Is this going to be a new thing?”

  Juniper’s voice came back a bit shakier. “Not regularly, I imagine? It’s likely some manner of experiment, but it would take a great degree more power to do this every night.”

  These things weren’t mindless rushers like the trolls or lumbering tanks like the ground dragon. They were circling with purpose, probing for gaps, and, most notably, testing our reaction times. Every time one feinted forward, the other adjusted its position to cover a different angle. I hadn’t seen anything fight like this since the girls arrived.

  “Weaknesses?” I asked, keeping both wolves in my peripheral vision and hating that it was physically impossible to watch two fast-moving targets at once.

  “Fire works well enough,” Juniper supplied from behind me. “And they’re vulnerable when separated from each other. The pack bond amplifies their speed and coordination. Alone, they’re manageable.”

  “Then we separate them. Portia, take the one on the left. I’ve got the right. Juniper, frost the field between them so they can’t regroup.”

  “Understood,” Juniper said, and I heard the sharp intake of breath that preceded her frost attack.

  After that there was about forty seconds of exhausting combat that felt more like forty minutes.

  I charged the right-side wolf, angling to drive it further from its partner. The thing was fast. I mean stupidly, alarmingly fast. It dodged my opening slash by dropping flat and sliding under the blade like it had no bones, then snapped at my trailing leg with jaws that I could feel heat radiating from. I twisted away, brought my sword back in a reverse arc, and caught it across the shoulder. The blade connected but the cut was shallow. The shadow-stuff trailing off its fur seemed to cushion the impact.

  Behind me, Juniper exhaled a plume of icy fog that spread across the ground between the two wolves, solidifying the grass into a brittle covering of frost. The cold barrier wouldn’t stop them from crossing, but it would slow any attempt to regroup.

  Portia engaged the left wolf with a whirlwind overhead swing that would have pulverized a troll’s skull. The Shadow Wolf was too quick, though. It sidestepped the hammer, lunged in, and raked its claws across her forearm before she could recover her stance.

  “Portia!” I shouted.

  “I’m fine, Master! It’s shallow!” Blood was running down her arm, but she’d already repositioned and brought her hammer around in a sweeping lateral strike that forced the wolf backward. “Worry about your own! You can punish my backside for my carelessness afterward!”

  Good advice, because mine had circled behind me. I only knew this because of a vague sense that tingled at the back of my skull. I spun, dropped to one knee, and brought my blade up just in time to meet the wolf mid-lunge. My sword caught it across the chest and this time the cut went deep. Black blood, or whatever passed for blood in a shadow monster thingy, spattered across the frosty grass.

  The wolf yelped and tumbled past me, rolling twice before finding its footing. It was hurt but far from done. Those coal-red eyes locked on me with renewed purpose, not desperation—not yet.

  And then its partner broke through the frost line.

  I don’t know how it crossed so fast, really. One second Portia had it pinned near the tree line, and the next it was streaking across Juniper’s ice barrier toward the wolf I’d wounded. The two met in the center of the field and something happened between them. The shadows trailing off their bodies merged, creating a pooling darkness that connected them like an umbilical cord.

  “They’re linking!” Juniper shouted. “That might explain—Wait! Break the connection before—”

  Too late. Both wolves surged forward as a unit. They were faster now. Stronger. The pack bond had cranked their stats to a level that made my enhanced reflexes feel sluggish by comparison.

  One went for Portia. The other came straight at me. The coordination was flawless. They hit us at the same moment, preventing either of us from helping the other.

  My wolf feinted high, I parried, and then its partner broke off from Portia and blindsided me. Claws raked across my ribs through my armor’s gap, and the pain was brutal. I staggered sideways, bleeding, and the first wolf was already coming around for another pass.

  “Josh!” Elysia’s voice from the stump, pitched high with fear. “Use your blade, my Champion!”

  I hurled my sword at the wolf bearing down on me. The weapon spun through the air with a whistle, but the Shadow Wolf dodged it. The blade sailed past and embedded itself in the ground thirty yards away.

  “Return Blade!”

  I recalled it instantly and caught the returning sword, but the wolf had used those seconds to close the distance. It hit me at full speed, a hundred-plus pounds slamming into my chest. I went down hard, my back hitting frozen ground, and jaws snapped inches from my throat. Only my forearm, pushing broadly against its neck, kept those teeth from finding flesh.

  The other wolf had Portia backed against a fence post. She was swinging her hammer in defensive arcs, keeping it at bay, but a fresh gash on her thigh was bleeding freely and her movements were slowing. Juniper fired arcane bolts at the wolf pinning me, but the shadow-stuff absorbed the purple energy like a sponge.

  This was going sideways. Fast.

  “Clementine!” I yelled, with absolutely no expectation that she’d respond. The wolf above me bore down harder. Its breath smelled like a crematorium.

  From the porch, there was nothing. The wolf’s jaws inched closer. I could see individual teeth, each one trailing wisps of dark smoke.

  Then I heard hooves.

  I couldn’t see her from my position under the wolf, but I felt the bond activate, maybe by subconscious trigger. A rush of euphoric energy rushed through me, like someone had mainlined lightning into my spine in a good way.

  The wolf on top of me heard it too. Its ears flattened and it twisted to look over its shoulder, which was the only opening I needed. I drove my knee into its belly, launching it off me, and rolled to my feet just as a streak of white tore across the field.

  Clementine in horse form was nothing short of magnificent every time I saw her. Her pure white coat was blazing in the moonlight, with her black mane streaming behind her, and her dark eyes locked on the wolf that had just been trying to eat my face. She made quick work of the fifty yards between the porch and my position.

  I didn’t think. As she thundered past, I grabbed her mane and vaulted onto her back like Legolas in the Peter Jackson films, defying physics. The moment my legs locked against her sides, my whole world changed.

  My perception went razor-sharp. Every detail sharpened into focus. I could see everything. I could see the individual strands of shadow trailing off the wolves, the exact rhythm of their breathing, even the micro-adjustments in their stance that telegraphed their next move.

  If you fall off, I’m not catching you, Clementine’s voice rang in my head. Also, I’m annoyed how hot you are when you’re fighting. Asshole.

  Her voice was somehow sexier in my head, which was weird given the current reality of her physical form. “Right flank, the wounded one. Fast approach, hard turn at the last second.”

  I know. I can feel what you’re planning somehow. Stop thinking so loud.

  She banked right and accelerated. The wounded wolf tried to dodge, breaking left just as I’d anticipated. But Clementine felt my intent and adjusted before I could even vocalize it, cutting the angle like she’d been reading my mind. Which, functionally, she had.

  I threw my sword at the apex of her turn. From horseback at full gallop, Return Blade became something else entirely. The momentum combined with my throw, the blade screaming through the air fast enough to hum. The Shadow Wolf never had a chance to dodge. My sword punched through its chest and out the other side, trailing black blood in an arc.

  “Return!”

  The blade ripped free and boomeranged back to my hand. The wolf collapsed, its shadow-stuff scattering like dust in the wind.

  I need to listen to Kansas more often.

  The second wolf had broken off its attack on Portia and was sprinting for the tree line. The connection to its pack partner had been severed, and alone, it knew it was outmatched. These were smart creatures.

  Not smart enough, though.

  Clementine pivoted and launched into pursuit, eating up the distance in enormous strides. The wolf was fast, but Clementine was faster. I could feel her speed through our bond, a raw, primal exhilaration that wasn’t entirely hers and wasn’t entirely mine. She was built for this. Every muscle in her body was engineered for exactly this kind of chase, and the joy of it radiated through our link so powerfully it almost drowned out my combat focus. She was built for speed.

  In this form, anyway. In her other form…

  And then it hit me like a sack of nuts to my sack of nuts. Her other form was designed to be attractive to me so that I could deepen our bond more easily. The System wanted me to fuck her. The System was, as it turned out, an incredible wingman.

  I dismissed that thought for now as we closed on the wolf in six seconds. I leaned low against Clementine’s neck, sword extended, and as we drew even with the fleeing creature, I brought the blade down in a single, clean stroke.

  The wolf tumbled and didn’t get up.

  Clementine slowed to a trot, then stopped. Her breathing was heavy but controlled. I slid off her back, feeling my legs shaking with residual adrenaline, and turned to check on Portia.

  She was sitting against the tree, holding her arm, but Juniper was already at her side. Green healing light pulsed from the dog girl’s hands into her own body as the snake girl seemed to channel something into her as well, knitting the gashes closed. Portia winced but managed a thumbs-up in my direction. “Just scratches, Master! I’ve had worse from Elysia’s hairbrush!”

  “That was but ONE time!” came a shriek from the stump.

  The blue notification materialized in my field of vision:

  VICTORY! XP Gained!

  LEVEL UP! Level 19 achieved.

  You have one new skill point and one new attribute point. Would you like to allocate them now? YES / NO

  “Yes,” I said, still catching my breath.

  ALLOCATE YOUR SKILL POINT:

  Mounted Charge (Devastating first-strike damage when attacking from horseback at full gallop. Damage scales with mount’s speed and rider’s STR.)

  Journeyman Fishing (Cast a magical fishing line. Improved bait selection. 15% increased catch rate in freshwater environments.)

  “Hmmm. This is a tough one,” I said out loud, just to hear the reactions.

  “JOSH!” three voices shouted.

  “Kidding. Mounted Charge.”

  Skill acquired: Mounted Charge. When attacking from horseback at full gallop, your first strike deals massively increased damage. Damage scales with your mount’s speed and your STR. Cooldown: once per combat engagement.

  For the attribute point, the choice was straightforward. That fight had confirmed what I’d been suspecting for a while. Strength was reaching the point of diminishing returns on its own. If I was going to be fighting from horseback, I needed the durability to take hits while managing two bodies’ worth of combat positioning.

  But then I reconsidered. My STR was 18. One more point would bring it to 19. One after that, and I’d hit 20. There was something appealing about pushing a stat to the round number, about knowing I was within arm’s reach of a threshold that felt significant even if the System didn’t explicitly mark it.

  Screw it. Go with the gut.

  “Strength,” I decided.

  Attribute increased: Strength (Now 19)

  Congratulations on reaching Level 19! New skill and attribute points have been allocated.

  The notification faded and the warmth of the level-up settled into my muscles. I checked the party XP breakdown and noticed something new at the bottom: Clementine’s name now appeared in the distribution list, receiving a small share as a bonded party member. Her stats would have ticked up from the bond scaling, too, though I’d check the specifics later.

  The silver light of Clementine’s transformation rippled over the horse, and then she was standing on two hooved feet in front of me, wearing my clothes again. Her black hair was wild, her cheeks flushed, her chest heaving with exertion. She looked like she’d just sprinted a mile, which in fairness she more or less had.

  She also looked furious. But a different kind of furious than I’d gotten used to. Her ears were pinned back and her tail lashed behind her as her fists clenched at her sides, but her eyes were alive in a way I hadn’t seen before. Not from her anyway.

  “That,” she said, jabbing a finger at my chest, “was the best I’ve ever felt in my entire life, you fucking fuck.”

  I chuckled. “You were incredible out there.”

  “Fuck you.” She was pacing a short, agitated circuit on the frosty grass. “I didn’t want to come out here. I was perfectly fine on the porch. I was eating leftover pizza and having a great time.”

  “But you came anyway,” I said. “Thanks for that, it made things a lot easier.”

  “Easier?! You were about to get your throat ripped out, fuckface! You think I’m going to just sit there and watch you die? After I already—after we—” She caught herself. Stopped pacing. Her nostrils flared with a long, slow exhale. “The bond kicked in. I felt you get hurt, and it was kind of like someone hurt me, too. And my body just... I did the thingy.”

  I looked down at the gashes on my side. The bleeding had mostly stopped. Portia would patch me up properly in a moment, but it did sting. “I’m sorry you got pulled into that, but I’m glad you did.”

  “Shut up. I’m not done being mad about how good it felt.” She raked both hands through her hair, dislodging bits of grass and frost.

  “Take your time,” I said as she continued pacing.

  After a few minutes, she finally stopped pacing and let out a sigh. “That was pretty fucking cool, I guess,” she said quietly.

  Nobody disagreed.

  After Portia patched me up, the walk back to the house was slow. Portia was drained and leaned on Juniper, who supported her with one arm while her tail did most of the actual load-bearing. Elysia had abandoned her stump and was trotting to keep up with me, one hand gripping my arm, alternating between scolding me for getting hurt and fussing over the claw marks with wide, frightened eyes.

  “You could have died!” she accused as she vaulted and landed on my back, wrapping arms and legs around me like a koala. “What would become of us if you died? What would become of me? I cannot go on in this barbaric world without you!”

  It had been the closest call so far, I admitted internally, but I had a feeling we were going to be just fine.

  Clementine walked beside us, close enough that her shoulder occasionally brushed mine. She didn’t say anything else.

  Back inside, Juniper tended to my wounds and Portia’s with efficient healing magic that left the skin pink and tender but intact. The claw marks on my ribs sealed up in a minute flat. Portia’s arm and thigh closed with a faint green shimmer and she flexed experimentally.

  “Good as new! Well, almost. There will be some soreness tomorrow.” She turned to me with eyes full of concern. “Master, are you truly alright? When that wolf pinned you, I thought my heart would stop.”

  “I’m fine, Portia. Thanks to our new teammate.”

  Clementine had been hovering near the kitchen doorway like she wasn’t sure she belonged in the group debrief, and she stiffened at the word “teammate.” Her tail flicked once. She said nothing.

  Elysia had wrapped herself around my arm and was inspecting the healed skin where the claw marks had been, running her fingertips over the fresh pink tissue like she was verifying Portia’s work. “These Shadow Wolves,” she said, her voice dropping. “They fought in formation. And they came in pairs, likely due to their ability to link up with each other. We should expect more threats like this one in the future.”

  “I figured that too.” I sat down on the couch, and Elysia immediately climbed into my lap. Portia took the spot beside me and leaned her head against my shoulder, her tail resuming its metronome of contentment now that the danger had passed.

  Juniper coiled herself on the floor near the coffee table, her expression troubled. “That’s what concerns me. The trolls, the skeletons, even the ground dragon from before I arrived. They all fought on instinct. Powerful, yes, but predictable. These wolves were coordinating with each other. It makes me realize how much more dangerous things will be when we have more threats coming in teams.”

  The room got quiet. My stomach gurgled a bit, but otherwise—very quiet.

  Juniper spoke the thought everyone was circling. “Black Lazarus may be testing our capabilities. Sending scouts with enough intelligence to report back.”

  “Can they do that?” I asked. “Report back after they’re dead?”

  “If they’re sufficiently enchanted beforehand, yes. A simple observational hex would allow their experiences to transmit to a linked receiver upon death. The more we fight, the more data he collects.”

  “Outstanding,” I muttered. “So every time we win, we’re basically filing a performance review for the guy who wants to end the multiverse.”

  “An apt analogy, Champion.”

  The implications sat heavy in the room. We’d been treating the nightly portals like a grind. Show up, fight, earn XP, go to bed. Rinse and repeat. But if the encounters were reconnaissance and not just random spawns, that changed the equation. Every fight was a two-way mirror. We could see only what Lazarus sent. But he could see what we did about it.