Becoming a Monster

Chapter 178: Chapter 178: Plan? No Plan

The first time Fenrir had ever mutated a creature into an abomination, the process took minutes, and that was with an unevolved zombie. Now, Fenrir’s infection mana was at least five times more powerful and aggressive than before. With his mutated skill designed particularly for this very situation, the potency of his invasive mana could no longer be compared to what he once was.

It was less than a minute, during that small time frame, close to fifteen zombies went through abrupt changes. The process it took for Neal to become an abomination was almost the same for them all, except that, given the nature of the speedier process, the transformation was more brutal than before. Their bodies tore apart at the seams, muscles ripping and reforming in a mutilated display as they doubled in size. Skin sloughed off in ragged pieces, pooling with dark blood that stained the streets.

Some of these creatures had patches of hardened carapace growing from their skin, irregularly distributed over their bodies, forming natural armor in unsettling, uneven patterns. Others, however, had taken on more of Fenrir’s beetle-like qualities in a much more pronounced way. Their bodies, once covered in fur, were now stripped bare in many places, replaced by layers of jagged, hardened skeletal material. Their forms clanked and clicked with each movement, their once haunting roars became unnerving clicks and unrhythmic, high pitched vibrating hums.

Yet, despite the individuality of each abomination, they all shared one unmistakable trait: the ravenous hunger and unbiased fury that radiated from their glowing eyes, all locked onto a singular purpose; to destroy any and everything in their path.

But there was something else that manifested within them, a trait that Noah would’ve never accounted for; a trait that was a combination of both zombies and wolves. Zombies were always found in groups, not because they were pack creatures by nature, but because of their instincts to congregate towards potential food. Wolves, on the other hand, were pack creatures. And now, the abominations had became monstrosities that not only traveled in packs but would still subconsciously gather towards any signs of life in order to devour them all.

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Fenrir delayed in giving them an order, his mind was already consumed with his own targets. Yet, even without a command, the few abominations were already acting on their own. They targeted the closest zombies near them, every one of them much faster and stronger than their old selves.

Ordinarily, the horde of zombies would have ignored the abominations, recognizing them as their own. But this wasn’t a normal situation. Fenrir’s bloodline carried an unusually potent vitality, a raw, pulsing life force that had been transferred to his abominations during their transformation. This vitality made them targets for the instinctual starving zombies, giving them the cause to fight back as the abominations drew near.

The supposed standoff became a brutal mauling. The abominations didn’t just meet the zombies into a head on collision; they ferociously pounced on their victims. Their mutated skeletal mass made their weight a powering force that easily took their targets down. A spectacle feeding unfolded soon after, unlike anything witnessed before. Instead of just ripping through their flesh, the monsters would tear out entire chunks of the zombies’ body. Bones shattered under the force of their jaws, they ate with a delirious demeanor, as if they were having their last meal for the rest of their lives.

Around them, the other zombies continued their relentless assault, clawing and biting at the abominations with frenzied abandon. Each undead creature seized whatever body part they could grasp, chomping down with gnashing teeth, utterly uncaring for the gruesome fate of their fellow zombies being ravaged.

And despite the abominations being feasted upon in kind, each and every one of them ignored the other zombies. It was only when the prey beneath them became so disfigured and mangled that it barely resembled food to them anymore that they then turned their sights to the next zombie, repeating the process.

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Meanwhile, Fenrir was currently seen clutching the titan zombie before him. With his lower arms pierced into the titan’s sides, his upper arms withheld the titan’s own arms, stretching, no...He was pulling the titan’s arm. Guttural roars escaped the titan’s mouth. Despite being a zombie, once evolved, zombies began to slowly regain their senses once more. The pain of its ligaments being stretched apart was just the start.

The other two titan zombies were now only a few feet away. The zombie with the overly large mouth, its teeth giving off a dangerously menacing vibe, was the first to attack, lunging forward with its mouth open wide.

Fenrir however, roared with resentment for being interrupted. With his other three hands forcibly holding the titan in place, he completely ripped the titan’s left arm from the rest of its body. The forceful tear not only ripped away the flesh, but a large layer of flesh was removed from its side, showcasing exposed muscles and revealing one of its ribs. The removal of its arm was like a trigger for Fenrir to change his way of attacking. With his sanity gone, he found himself enjoying the zombie’s torment, making it his goal to tear it apart.

The titan zombie let out a horrid wail, but its actions contradicted the source of its pain; even now, it still attempted to bite into Fenrir’s face. But now that Fenrir accomplished his goal, his muscles bulged, and the grip of hands tightened. His free hand cocked backwards, and audible cracks sounded as Fenrir balled his gauntlet-like hand into a fist that echoed like small thunder strikes. When he unleashed the pent up fist, aiming for the zombie’s face, a sound akin to a cannon blast erupted from the impact. The entire zombie’s body jolted under the hold of his other arms, while the next second, its body completely went limp. Its face, which was already unrecognizable of its facial features, was now completely sunken in.

The bone structure shattered, its skin and muscles deformed as its entire face and skull protruding into the rest of itself.

By the time the attack landed, the other zombie’s mouth had already sunk into Fenrir’s shoulder, while its hand stretched out, grabbing onto one of his arms while the other grabbed the base of his neck.

Its mouth met the hard outer skin that generated clearly metallic ding. It seemed as if the zombie wasn’t able to bypass Fenrir’s armor either. But this zombie’s teeth in particular were special. Its teeth had two layers: one layer was the teeth that made contact with Fenrir’s hide, while the other was teeth that didn’t hold the same canine appeal. The teeth didn’t have pointed canines, the teeth were jagged and flat, lacking in number but each tooth was large enough to fill up the inner part of its mouth.

When its initial bite didn’t work, it instinctively opened its mouth wider, its jaws dislocated to make it possible, allowing for his inner teeth to make their appearance. Just one bite quickly showed results; the area under its bite sounded loudly as it formed cracks with Fenrir’s hide. If that wasn’t bad enough, the mouths that were in the palms of its hands had that same row of teeth that could bypass Fenrir’s defenses.

Unlike the pain that should come with the attack, the damage done to his hide didn’t elicit much pain. Instead, the next time the zombie tried to take another bite in the same area, it didn’t have the same amount of success. The scene was as if Fenrir’s hide strengthened itself the moment it was damaged.

But the zombie didn’t care. Although it gained a bit of sentience, it wasn’t rational enough to realize the danger it was in. It was already taller than Fenrir, but now that its face was latched over onto Fenrir’s shoulder, a large shadow loomed over it. Before finally, Fenrir’s entrapped the zombie’s skull within his jaws.

The moment his jaws latched down, the zombie wasn’t that dense enough to not notice the trouble it was in. Its hands unlatched themselves, aiming to grab around Fenrir’s face to remove Fenrir’s maul that was squeezing down ever so tightly; his fangs were already scraping at its skull.

Fenrir had every intention to finish it off, but just as he was about to completely crush its skull; his nose scrunched. A sour, putrid smell entered his nose that even fazed him while in the midst of his berserk skill.

What followed the smell was the sight of Fenrir’s fur magically beginning to flatten. The darkness in his fur slowly began to lose its vibrance, slowly becoming dull, with a few of his strands already turning a grey. The air around him felt stifled, and the sclera of his eyes turned a deep red from the burning agitation that was looming in the air.

There was seemingly no clear indicator of the cause, but Fenrir only had to follow the smell, coming upon the sight of the last titan zombie that was not too far away; but also wasn’t approaching either. No one realized that in the moment, it was about to encroach in Fenrir’s attack range, a swirling silver mist circulated around its head.

The little zombie child was keenly observing the two enemies, and although Arachne was attempting to attack her, she had complete faith in her guardian.

And with the decaying zombie staying at a distance, Fenrir’s perspective completely captivated the zombie as his only target, even forgoing the opportunity of finishing off the zombie that was once seconds from death.

Yet, even after being released from Fenrir’s death grip, the zombie didn’t make an attempt to attack again. It wasn’t as if they were able to become consumed by fear, nor did its injuries incapacitate from attacking. However, if one could observe close enough, they would have noticed four of its pointed teeth were beginning to protrude out further than the others, while small patches of fur started to grow on its face.