I Became A Zompirewolf



Ashton stood on the battlefield, his sword gripped tightly in his hand as he scanned the horizon for any sign of his enemies. He knew that the Xyran grunts were challenging opponents, but they were nothing he couldn't have handled on his own.

In the distance, he saw movement, and he tensed, ready for the fight to come. A group of Xyran grunts emerged from the shadows, their weapons ready. They moved quickly, their movements fluid and graceful as they closed in on Ashton.

Ashton took a deep breath and steadied himself, his eyes locked on the Xyran grunts as they rushed toward him. He waited until they were within striking distance, then lunged forward, his sword flashing in the sunlight as he slashed at his opponents.

"What the hell!?" Ashton cursed under his breath as none of his strikes landed on the insectoid creatures. 

The Xyran grunts were fast and agile, dodging Ashton's blows with ease. But things were about to get worse for him. 

The grunts moved in unison, attacking from all sides and forcing Ashton to stay defensive. The grunts had been thoroughly trained to abuse their number advantage to drain the enemy's stamina before ending them. They were like hyenas who were on a strict lion-based diet. 

But Ashton was no novice with a sword, and he quickly adapted to their fighting style, parrying their strikes and countering with swift, decisive blows. However, he was still stuck in a defensive position. 

The battle raged on, each side exchanging blows with deadly precision. Ashton was a skilled fighter, but he was outnumbered, and the Xyran grunts were relentless in their attack. 

He felt the weight of their blows as they rained down upon him, and he knew he could not keep this up forever.

"Two can play the numbers game," Ashton mumbled in frustration, intending on summoning his soldiers from [Valhalla].

However, as he was about to use his ability, Vulcan's words echoed in his ears. "You are not allowed to use anything other than that sword of yours."

"What kind of bullshit-" 

Getting distracted in the middle of a battle was the worst mistake Ashton could have made as three of the grunts quickly stabbed him in the feet and his back while two of them shot plasma bullets that pierced right through his shoulder. 

"Do you want to die, kid?" Vulcan's voice echoed once again, but this time Ashton had had it. 

Despite his wounds, Ashton refused to give up. He fought on, his sword ringing out against the Xyran grunts' weapons as he pushed back against their onslaught. He was determined to win this battle, only to wipe that smug smile off Vulcan's face, no matter the cost.

"Enough!"

Ashton's sword glinted in the sunlight as he spun, his blade sweeping out in a wide arc and taking down several grunts at once. They fell to the ground, their weapons clattering beside them as they lay still.

But the battle was far from over. The remaining grunts regrouped, their eyes blazing with fierce determination as they continued their attack. Ashton stood his ground, his sword held high as he prepared for the next wave of attackers.

The grunts moved in, their weapons flashing in the sunlight as they closed in on Ashton once again. He parried their strikes, his sword clanging against their sabres while deflecting the plasma bullets as he pushed back against their attack.

"...fuck."

Ashton fought for what seemed like hours, his sword ringing out against the Xyran grunts' weapons as he held them at bay. But eventually, he began to tire. His arms grew heavy, and his breath came in short gasps as he fought to stay on his feet.

"Need... to... push through..."

But he refused to give up. He knew he had to keep fighting, no matter how tired he became. He focused all his energy on his sword, using every ounce of his strength to keep the grunts at bay.

Ashton took a deep breath and charged forward, his sword glinting in the dim light. He swung his blade with all his might, aiming for the nearest grunt's head. But the alien was too fast, ducking out of the way and firing a blast of energy that singed Ashton's arm.

Ashton gritted his teeth and pressed on, his sword flashing in the air as he parried and thrust. The grunts were fierce opponents, their weapons and tactics, unlike anything Ashton had ever seen. They seemed to move as one, coordinated and relentless.

The grunts swarmed him, their weapons blazing. Ashton fought valiantly, but it was no use. He was overwhelmed, his sword knocked from his hand as he was pinned to the ground.

Dozens of grunts jumped on him, ready to impale him with their weapons. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the simulation ended. Flintmace stood there, his face expressionless, while Vulcan was smiling. 

Ashton lay there, panting and drenched in sweat. He knew he had lost and could not defeat the horde of Xyran grunts. That feeling was the worst thing he had ever felt in his short life. 

Flintmace helped Ashton to his feet, congratulating him on a valiant effort. "You fought well," he said. "But you still have much to learn.

"Much? I'd say too much!" Vulcan sneered. "I expected more from you. You're supposed to be the one who'll end the Xyran's dominance in the galaxy, but you're weaker than a newborn kitten."

Ashton bristled at the insult, his fists clenching at his sides. "If you had allowed me to go all-out, things would have turned out differently!"

Vulcan scoffed. "Going all-out? Against what? A bunch of grunts? Do you think they're the only enemies we'll be facing? What about the higher-ranked warriors who are even stronger and more skilled than I am? How will you survive against them if you can't even handle a bunch of grunts?"

Ashton had no reply for him. He knew that Vulcan was right, to a certain extent and had to keep his strength in reserve for future war fights. If he went all-out on the grunts, he would most definitely lose against the real Xyrans. 

He sighed and lowered his head, feeling a sense of defeat wash over him. He knew that he had to find a way to balance his training to push himself to the limit without going too far.

Vulcan seemed to sense his hesitation, and his expression softened slightly. "Look, Ashton," he said. "I'm not trying to be a jerk. I just want you to be the best you can be. We're all counting on you to help us win this war, and we can't afford any weak links."

Ashton nodded, feeling a sense of determination welling up inside him. He knew that he couldn't let his comrades down and that he had to find a way to become stronger and more skilled, no matter the cost.

"I just want to know one thing..." Ashton mumbled. "I defeated Beelzebub before when I was much weaker than I am today. Then why the hell I can't defeat a bunch of footsoldiers?"

"Allow me to explain," Flintmace stepped forward. "First, Beelzebub was the personification of overconfidence when you two fought, and he severely underestimated you and hence lost."

He continued, "Secondly, the Xyrans you fought weren't proper soldiers trained for combat but mere scientists and researchers. You could say you got lucky because if a single battalion of grunts aboard their ship... we would not be having this conversation now."

Ashton nodded, realising his mistake of taking the grunts lightly. But he was ready to fix his error now. "Let's go once more."