Chapter 22 Dance with the Wolf

  I took a lower stance, arms raised, a card between each of my fingers. My fighting skills weren’t honed in an academy or under a mentor. They were a mishmash of online tutorials, endless sleepless nights, and over five years of relentless self-practice. It wasn’t textbook-perfect, but it was mine.

  “Come and get me, wolfie…” I taunted.

  Greyhound grinned... or maybe that was just his twisted, snarling face. His lupine eyes locked onto mine, his sharp claws twitching with anticipation. In an instant, he lunged at me, his powerful legs launching him like a missile.

  I anticipated the leap, and I prepared my response. At the anticipated apex of his jump, I flicked one card from my left hand, aiming straight for his eye. But Greyhound was more cautious than I expected. He abruptly halted mid-pounce, skidding to the floor with a predatory grace that belied his size. His claws swiped wide in an arc, designed to cover every inch of space where I might physically reappear, tangible or not.

  Smart. Too smart.

  I phased just enough to avoid the brunt of his attack, his claws slicing through air where my body had been. Sweat pricked my brow, not from exertion, but from the realization that he wasn’t going to fall for the usual tricks. He wasn’t some common thug. Greyhound was a predator through and through, and I was in his sights.

  My cards were a powerful weapon, but there was a catch: I couldn’t use them effectively while intangible. The moment I needed to generate force, I had to be tangible... vulnerable. And Greyhound seemed intent on exploiting that weakness, unaware.

  He advanced with calculated steps, forcing me to sidestep and weave between his strikes. Every swipe was a gamble, each narrowly missing as I phased in and out, searching for an opening. His claws raked the air inches from my face, the rush of wind sharp enough to sting.

  I ducked low, slipping through his legs and flicking another card at his exposed flank. It caught him, embedding in his side, but the shallow wound was a minor inconvenience to someone with Regenerator-4. Greyhound growled, more annoyed than hurt, and spun with a speed that belied his bulky form. His massive hand lashed out, forcing me into a full intangible retreat.

  This wasn’t sustainable. My power had its limits, and Greyhound knew it. He was forcing me to burn energy, to slip up. And I would, eventually.

  But so would he.

  I needed to fight smarter. Each flick of my cards wasn’t just about causing damage; it was a test, an analysis of his movements and reactions. He was fast, but not untouchable. His regeneration was potent, but not immediate. And most importantly, his pattern was starting to show.

  He favored his right hand for power strikes, leaving a slight delay when transitioning to his left. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

  I phased through another swipe, this one aimed high, and dropped into a crouch. Greyhound’s claws tore through the steel wall behind me, sparks flying from the impact. Using the distraction, I flicked two cards simultaneously, one at his exposed throat and the other at his knee.

  He dodged the one aimed for his throat, but the card at his knee struck true. Greyhound stumbled, his growl turning into a snarl of pain. The injury slowed him, just for a second, but it was the opening I needed.

  I surged forward, abandoning the defensive dance. Tangibility returned to my form as I closed the gap, slashing out with the remaining card in my right hand. The edge caught him across the arm, a shallow cut that sprayed dark blood. He retaliated immediately, his claws aiming to gut me, but I was already intangible again, slipping past him like smoke.

  This was going to be a long fight. And I wasn’t sure if I had the stamina to see it through. But one thing was certain: Greyhound wasn’t walking away unscathed.

  Greyhound’s unrelenting assault left little room for strategy. He rushed at me like a force of nature, all raw power and feral precision. I tried circling him, searching for an angle to land a decisive blow, but his movements were erratic and aggressive. Each swipe of his claws forced me into quick retreats, phasing in and out of tangibility to avoid being torn apart.

  My breathing was ragged, each intake of air sharper than the last. Desperation crept in with every passing second. I needed to retaliate with something that could turn the tide... something strong enough to stop this monstrous advance.

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  Gripping my cards like daggers, I swung at him, alternating between tangible and intangible strikes. The cards carved lines of blood into his flesh as I weaved through his strikes, slicing wherever I could reach. A cut to his arm, another across his ribs, a quick slash along his thigh... each strike was precise, but none were enough to bring him down.

  Greyhound growled in frustration, his movements becoming more frenzied. The deeper I cut, the faster he healed. His regeneration worked overtime, sealing wounds before I could exploit them. Worse, he protected his vital areas. his heart and brain, with an almost instinctive precision. Every time I aimed for a killing blow, his claws or sheer agility deflected my attacks.

  My concentration was stretched thin, balancing the timing of partial tangibility with the rhythm of his onslaught. One mistake, one missed phase, and I’d be skewered. Yet even as I fought with everything I had, it felt like I was barely keeping pace.

  I decided to change tactics. Instead of focusing on quick strikes, I began embedding cards deep into his flesh. With every opportunity, I left one lodged inside him, aiming to encumber his movements. A card on his shoulder. Another on his thigh. One more along his ribs.

  The effect was minimal, but it wasn’t nothing. Greyhound’s movements became slightly less fluid, his steps a fraction slower. The cards might not stop him outright, but they were starting to add up, turning his own body into a burden.

  Still, it wasn’t enough. His snarling grin told me he knew it too. He lunged again, faster than I expected, and I barely phased in time to avoid the strike. His claws passed through me, but the sheer force of the blow sent a shiver through my intangible form.

  I reappeared several steps away, panting heavily. My hands trembled as I tightened my grip on the cards, blood from Greyhound staining the edges. My mind raced, trying to think of a way to turn this fight around.

  The cards weren’t enough. My strikes weren’t enough. I needed something more. Something that would bypass his regeneration completely or overwhelm it so thoroughly that it couldn’t keep up.

  And I had an idea. It was risky, reckless even, but it might be my only shot. I just needed to bait him into the right position.

  For years, I’d prided myself on my endurance. My powers had gifted me with stamina that felt nearly limitless. I could outlast most people in physical exertion and mental focus without breaking a sweat. Yet, as I stood there, panting and battered, the creeping shadow of exhaustion settled in... a sensation I hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever.

  I needed a breakthrough.

  Greyhound was relentless, a predator born to hunt. His werewolf form granted him a terrifying combination of strength, speed, and regeneration, making every one of my attacks feel futile. No matter how many cuts or embedded cards I left in him, his body healed them before they could make a difference. It was like trying to punch through a storm.

  My powers, versatile as they were, had their limits. Full intangibility cloaked my entire body in an aura of untouchability, useful for defense but draining when maintained for too long. Partial intangibility allowed me to make only specific parts of myself intangible: a hand, a leg, a fraction of my torso, which offered more precision but less coverage. Then there was external intangibility, my rarest and most offensive ability, allowing me to make objects outside my body intangible for short periods.

  I had never managed to apply external intangibility to a living being, though not for lack of trying. My last attempt, a month ago, had ended in failure and left me so drained I’d nearly blacked out. But now, staring down Greyhound in a fight for my life, I didn’t have the luxury of hesitation.

  He rushed at me again, claws slashing through the air with unrelenting force. I dodged, phasing just enough to avoid the deadly swings, but my body was screaming for oxygen, my lungs burning as I gasped for breath.

  I needed to recover, to buy myself just one moment to think. But Greyhound gave me no reprieve. He snarled, saliva dripping from his fanged maw as he brought both arms down in an overcompensated downward swing, aiming to crush me where I stood.

  That was my opening.

  I went fully intangible, his claws passing harmlessly through me. As he stumbled forward from the momentum, I spun around, placing my hand against his back. My powers were limited by surface area... otherwise, I would’ve ripped his heart out and ended this... but I didn’t need precision. I just needed this to work.

  I concentrated harder than I ever had before, willing my power to reach its peak. My fingers sank into his fur and flesh, and for a moment, I felt resistance, like trying to push through dense fog. Then, he shifted.

  Greyhound let out a guttural howl as his body became intangible, falling through the steel floor like a ghost. I followed him, my senses razor-focused despite the strain. When his body stopped sinking, his head the only tangible part left above the floor, I knew I’d succeeded.

  I withdrew my power carefully, leaving only his head untouched. The rest of his body was fused with the cold steel, tangible flesh and blood mixing fatally with the impurities of the material. This wasn’t like the comics I’d read, where the bad guys could still function after being turned intangible and forced into other objects. My powers didn’t work like that. Mixing biological matter with anything foreign was an immediate death sentence.

  Greyhound’s choking filled the air, a sickening sound that sent a shiver down my spine. His head turned, desperate to look at me, but the motion only caused his neck to twist unnaturally, breaking with a sharp, wet crack.

  His tongue lolled out, and his bloodshot eyes stared at nothing.

  I didn’t know if he was alive or not, but it didn’t matter. He was done.

  I staggered back, the world tilting slightly as exhaustion clawed at my mind. My hands trembled as I fought to steady myself, adrenaline still coursing through my veins. I’d never used my power like that before. The strain it put on me was immense, a reminder that even my abilities had their limits.

  But it worked.

  I looked down at Greyhound’s lifeless body, his head the only part visible above the steel floor. I wasn’t sure what I felt. Pride? Guilt? Maybe a sick combination of both. He’d been a threat, and I’d neutralized him. That’s all there was to it.

  At least, that’s what I told myself.