บท 368: A Harsh Exorcism, Part 2

'Wham!'

I'd put all my weight into that swing, but, surprisingly, I didn't hit King Drake's face. Instead, a curtain of wispy vapors got in the way. They were black and cloying and were shaped like the mangy of fur of a wild dog.

Yep, even when dying, the Shadow Wolf was attempting to protect its host, which simplified things.

"Made you look!"

I now understand why some people still loved playing Whack-the-Mole whenever they visited an arcade. There was just something cathartic about hammering an annoying little critter as it popped out of unexpected places. In the king's case, from every pore he had. Even the ones on his nose.

'Wham!'

There was nothing fancy to my whacking either. Just a guy using his teenage muscles to go caveman on this nasty piece of outerwear. I had a hammer, and the shadow wolf was my nail, easy-peasy, lemon squeezy.

'Wham!'