The sickles had cut through both spectral wolves, and while the poison hissed deep into their forms, it did little to slow them down.
For normal beasts, the wounds Vlad had delivered would've crippled and killed, but these were not creatures of flesh and soul.
They were constructs of spectral magic, lifeless puppets bound by the Moon Wolf's will. So even with their bodies torn and one of their skulls nearly split in half, they didn't falter, didn't reel back, didn't hesitate.
The one with its skull pierced still leaped claws flashing forward, but Vlad moved with it, stepping back and dragging his blade with him, ripping the embedded sickle free and tearing open the face of the second wolf in the same motion.
As he slid back, Vlad planted his foot, heel grinding into the ice, and swiftly pushed to his left away from the mad rush of the spectral wolf, while also snapping the chain taut.
