There Can Be Only One [Pt. 3 - Final]

Metas couldn't remember himself at the moment. He felt like he was lost in some kind of thick fog that looped him back to the beginning of the same path.

His body on the other hand seemed to take on a mind of its own as rage and determination took over his limbs that swung without holding back. Each punch that landed on Silas felt like an amazing relief that he yearned to continue them.

He had never felt so alive on the outside, but also completely out of control on the inside.

Silas tried to stop Metas from wailing on him by grabbing his foe's wrists - and it worked for only so long until his hands couldn't keep up with his eyes and his palm slipped just one of the blows, and took it right in the gut.

Metas howled in satisfaction, and followed up his attack by running forward as fast as he could and rammed his upper body into the opening that was made for him. The two tumbled down quickly to the ground and began to trade knuckled to the face.

Blood, spit, and the nasty goo that leaked out of Silas' cuts mixed together in a slurry on the ground, and neither seemed to mind or care about that, or the fact they were getting near the edge of the crowd.

Many wolves shifted to get out of the way of the brawling beasts - but no one wanted to look away.

While on his back, Silas swooped up with his left hand, and made contact against Metas' nose, which left a deep cut that wept blood immediately down each side of his long snout.

It didn't seem to deter him much, and in reply the giant black wolf plunged his claws into one of Silas' arms and clamped his hand around the limb so hard that it snapped - but that wasn't enough for Metas - no he wanted to see the blonde monster suffer.

After the first rounds of shill cries left Silas' mouth, Metas pulled his arm back, but did not let go of his grip. The force and speed ripped the limb right off, but not cleanly. A jagged bone and tendrils of muscles hung out of the remnants of what used to be his left arm.

Heated with unregulated hatred, the Alpha resorted to beating his opponent on the head with the very arm he had just stolen from him.

Silas roared and reached out with his remaining hand to try and stop the blows being delivered to his face. He was able to graze Metas' arm and cause him to drop the impromptu weapon.

The large male did not like that. In fact, he wanted to make sure that the little stain in front of him never ever laid anything on anyone again. Just as Silas was about to pull his arm out of Metas' grasp, the black hand twisted in time to get his hands on the right forearm.

His grip once more tightened on the damaged and malformed flesh and once again, he pulled - and once again, the arm detached itself - only this time it was at the elbow.

There would be no recovery at this point, Silas reared back in surprise, and Metas was tired of suppressing his desire to to see him die. As the blonde lost his footing, the black wolf reached out with both of his hands and placed them on both sides of his head.

Silas struggled, but it did him no service with his lack of arms. Him trying to get free, only assisted Metas in loosening the demented cranium on his shoulders.

As his neck stretched, it couldn't last the tension test the Alpha King was putting it through - and with one more mighty tug it, along with the top portion of his spinal cord came up and disconnected from his shoulders.

After a stunned silence, the crowd suddenly erupted in howls, stomps with their paws, and barks.

It was over for Silas.

Before Metas could turn on his own pack, Ajax came rushing up behind Metas in his mortal form, and held a small portion of purple haze in his palm. Undeterred by the fact that he could get another matching scar with his best friend, he used physics to help leap up Metas' spine and bring the cupped hand to his snout the best he could.

For something called purple haze, it sure cleared Metas' thought path. That once foggy thought process zeroed in on his next task and desire: his wife. He turned to meet her, but she was faster on her feet and ran up to him also in her mortal form with her arms outstretched to catch the towering man as he shrank in size, and morphed back into the male she recognized.

He let out a groan of agony and fatigue as his figure hit her arms that took his weight quite well (she had been working out with him and it had paid off).

There were so many things he wanted to say, but the thing that came to the forefront of his brain was, "I'm starving..."