Butch the Wereboar

The chamber shrieks with tearing shadow. Black threads snake tighter around Butch's arm, and the sigil flares like a coal fed with oil.

Across the room, the Debt-Collector jerks and blurs, its shape falling apart at the seams. The breach behind it coughs out colder darkness.

The sigil answers first. Pain bites through Butch's arm as the stolen debt surges, trying to claw free or claim him outright.

Sable plants her shield by the breach, braced for a desperate lunge. The Debt-Collector leans toward Butch, reaching for the tether now bound to him.

Butch now holds the debt itself. If he survives the backlash, the Collector loses its grip for good.

Butch drives the axe down in one brutal motion, and the blade bites into the Debt-Collector’s neck with a wet crack of splintering shadow.

The tether surges through his arm at the same time, dark power flooding his muscles as the blow lands true and the collector’s head lolls sideways.

Black mist sprays from the wound instead of blood, and the fraying figure stumbles back into the breach, clawing at the air with failing fingers.

Butch keeps the tether pinned, but the strain burns a raw line across his forearm, and the sigil flares so bright it throws both shadows hard against the stone.

Butch yanks the tether tight, and the Debt-Collector jerks forward as if hooked through the ribs.

His muscles swell under the black-violet glare, and the axe arm draws back for the finish.

Butch drives the blade in again, and the collector folds around the impact, its form tearing open in a spray of shadow-mist.

The breach behind it flashes with harsh light, then shudders as the Debt-Collector’s outline breaks apart and spills into the floor.