I wrote a little mini story for this as I was drawing to make sure I didn't forget about the mood I was going for.
CW: might be a little bit violent.

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Loran’s body went limp.

The beast had caught the blade of his sword with its bare hand. The tiny trickle of blood running down the tempered steel betrayed just how little damage he had managed to do, despite swinging it with all his might. The beast’s other hand had an iron grip on the wolf’s neck, his windpipe all but crushed.

His nearly lifeless body dangled uselessly several feet above the ground. The raw strength of his adversary was unreal. He barely managed a few raspy breaths as the demonic creature looked him in the eye.

He saw it then. This was nature’s fury given flesh. Loran should have known from the moment he laid eyes on it.

The beast was huge. Its catlike lower body supported an insanely muscular torso. It wore a belt adorned with a horned skull. The mark of a champion. One of its demonic horns was broken and across its chest was a massive scar. This was a battle-hardened fighter that had bested opponents stronger than even it. The wolf was a fool to think he stood a chance.

His dreams of glory mattered no longer. Even a legendary monster hunter like Loran was powerless before this overwhelming monstrosity. The beast’s gaze seemed to pierce his very soul. It spoke with a thunderous roar that shook the very ground beneath them.

“Foolish mortal.”

His final thoughts were of his warm bed and the tavern wench he had woken up next to earlier that day. Without warning, the beast’s claws tore through his neck and the darkness took him.