Nico + Anakin
Large, chaotic battles were nothing new to Nico. He had been at the tail end of one ready to run off to another after all when he'd blacked out and woken up in a pod here. Everything that happened in the Labryinth. The Battle of Manhattan. Tartarus. The House of Hades. And apparently plenty more after according to Reyna.
Including werewolves. Although not werewolves like these. Yeah, they snapped and raged and growled just like all the other monsters back home (actually them not talking was a little weird, but not a bad thing), but they didn't feel the same. Their souls were bound to Tartarus. These werewolves, for all their appearance, were simple mortal souls. Which made the battle more like fighting demigods than monsters.
Maybe this is what having to go one on one with an army of Franks was like...
Ok, best not to think of one of your friends fighting as an animal while you're slipping your sword between the ribs of a giant wolf. Or when there were plenty of other things to focus on. Like replenishing the legion when need be. Or controlling the other undead he had risen. Or...
He pointed the scepter across the battlefield, skeletal hands popping up to grab a wolf mid-stride and trip it up before it could get to its target. Which... was a really bad idea...
That wave of exhaustion he'd been fighting the past ten minutes surged up full force. Too many undead. Too much energy. Not standing would lessen that energy thing, but nope, no, the battle was still raging. Rest came after the fighting was done. That teeter in balance put just enough of a hiccup in his focus though. He was stuck correcting his balance one way instead of paying attention to his sword not sliding out as smoothly from the werewolf's body as he thought and tugging him along the falling corpse. Then it was just dominos. Correcting for that balance off-set and, boom, speedy furball in the side. This sucked. But at least it scattered all those dominos away. New, bigger, much more important danger to focus on.
First things first, mind the teeth. He twisted, shoving the irovy staff into the open jaws, both hands on either side bracing and pushing up to keep the slobber and flashing canines at arm's length as the wolf pinned him to the ground. Ugh, and the breath. "Ugh, who you been kissing? Even Mrs. O'Leary's breath doesn't smell this bad," he managed to grunt out, because somehow that'd maybe make the beast turn tail and run. Mrs. O'Leary would definitely make it turn tail and run. He really did miss her...
Ok, no, focus. Big teeth in front and painful claws all around. Shoot, he'd need to get a new jacket after this. And shirt. And pants. Maybe some new skin too... Unless he could get out of here quick. He kneed and kicked up at the beast (please let this be a boy werewolf) as he tried to gather enough strength for a shadow jump. He just needed to find that extra store of power... Just a teeny tiny bit more energy....