Home / War / SILVER FANG SUTRA THE DOCTOR OF WAR / Chapter 4: The Fleshbound
Chapter 4: The Fleshbound
Author: Husain
last update2025-09-01 13:10:08

Silver Fang Sutra: The Doctor of War

Chapter 4: The Fleshbound

The courtyard trembled beneath the weight of the monster.

The Fleshbound’s roar rattled shattered windows and loosened stones from the monastery’s crumbling walls. Its chains dragged behind it like the tails of a demon, their runes glowing with sickly green light. Every step shook the ground, leaving cracks in the frozen earth.

Azael stood firm, cloak whipping in the cold wind. His sword shimmered faintly, silver veins pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat. His wolves gathered behind him, battered, bleeding, but unwilling to flee.

“Stay back,” Azael growled without turning. His voice was iron, brooking no argument. “This beast is mine.”

The Fleshbound’s burning eyes fixed on him. With a guttural snarl, it charged.

First Clash

The monster’s fist swung like a hammer. Azael ducked, the strike smashing stone and spraying shards across the courtyard. He slashed upward, his silver blade carving a line across the creature’s pale flesh. The cut sizzled against its unnatural skin, black blood spilling thick and foul.

But the Fleshbound did not slow.

It howled and swiped again, its massive arm knocking Azael off his feet. He slammed against the monastery wall, stone cracking under the impact. Pain surged through his ribs, but he forced himself up, sword still tight in his grip.

The wolves cried out, some moving to rush forward. Azael’s voice stopped them cold.

“Hold your ground!” he barked. Blood dripped from his mouth, but his eyes blazed. “If you intervene, you die for nothing.”

The Fleshbound lunged again, jaws snapping. Azael spun aside, his blade flashing, severing two of the beast’s fingers. They hit the ground with wet thuds, twitching like worms.

The monster shrieked, a sound that made even hardened warriors shudder.

The Sutra’s Precision

Azael steadied his breath. Not strength against strength. Precision. Surgery.

Every movement of the Fleshbound was violent, wide, devastating—but clumsy. It was a brute stitched together by alchemy, not a warrior.

Azael whispered the chant of the Silver Fang Sutra, his words drowned by the roar of battle but burning in his chest like fire. The veins of silver along his sword brightened.

The Fleshbound lunged again. Azael stepped inside the arc of its swing, driving his blade through the joint of its shoulder. The sword cut deep, severing tendons, slicing muscle. Black blood sprayed, and the monster staggered with a roar of pain.

But its other arm lashed out, smashing into Azael’s side. The world tilted. He tasted iron. His body hit the ground hard, breath tearing from his lungs.

He forced himself to rise, ribs screaming, vision swimming. The wolves shouted in despair, but still they held their ground.

Azael wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “You think pain will stop me?” he growled, voice ragged but unbroken. “I am pain.”

The Beast Unleashed

Enraged, the Fleshbound tore at the chains on its wrists. The runes flared, then shattered. With a deafening roar, the beast broke free, its strength doubling as the alchemy burned through its veins.

It charged like an avalanche, striking with both arms. Azael barely rolled aside, the ground where he had stood exploding into rubble. The force threw several wolves off their feet.

“Lord Azael!” Serik cried, clutching his bleeding side.

But Azael did not answer. He was already moving.

He sprinted along the crumbled wall, gaining height, his cloak snapping behind him. As the Fleshbound turned its burning eyes upward, Azael leapt.

His sword descended like lightning.

The blade drove deep into the beast’s shoulder, carving downward in a brutal incision. The Fleshbound screamed, thrashing wildly, but Azael clung to his sword, dragging it down, splitting flesh and tendon until the monster’s arm hung limp.

It bellowed in fury, seizing him in its other hand. Fingers like iron bands crushed around his chest. Bones creaked. Breath vanished from his lungs.

The wolves shouted in horror, but Azael only snarled through clenched teeth. His sword hand remained steady.

And with one final whisper of the Sutra, he drove the blade into the creature’s neck.

Silence and Ashes

The silver-lit edge cut clean. Arteries burst. Black blood sprayed in a fountain, drenching Azael head to toe. The Fleshbound staggered, choking on its own roar.

With a final shudder, it collapsed, slamming into the earth with a quake that shook the monastery to its foundation. Its burning eyes flickered once, then dimmed into nothingness.

Silence fell.

Azael tore his blade free, gasping, his chest heaving. Every muscle screamed. His ribs ached with every breath. But he stood.

The wolves erupted in a ragged cheer, their voices raw with relief and triumph.

The emissary of the Council, still standing at the treeline, did not flinch. His masked face tilted ever so slightly, as though studying Azael like a specimen.

When he spoke, his voice was calm, even amused. “So the Sutra lives. Good. The Council will be most… eager.”

Then he vanished into the shadows, leaving his army broken, his monster slain.

The War Ahead

The wolves gathered around their battered leader, some weeping, some laughing through bloodied lips. Serik fell to one knee before Azael, his axe planted in the ground.

“You faced a demon of the Council… and you slew it. By the gods, Lord Azael, you are more than a man.”

Azael looked down at his hands, drenched in black blood. His grip trembled.

Once a healer. Now a butcher. Is this what the Sutra has made of me?

He sheathed his blade and turned toward the broken horizon. Smoke rose from the valley. The Council’s armies had not been defeated, only delayed.

“This is only the beginning,” he said quietly, though every wolf heard him. His voice was steady, carrying both weight and promise. “They will send more. Stronger. And they will not stop until the Sutra is theirs.”

He lifted his gaze to the gray sky, eyes burning with the fire of a wolf that refused to die.

“Then neither will I.”

[Chapter 4 Ends]

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