Becoming a Monster

Chapter 372: Chapter 372: The Pack’s True Potential

The battlefield shifted again.

Two trolls had already fallen, yet the fight that began before the others still took place, now with two more figures added to the mix.

Fenrir now fought alongside Dummy. As the leader, no matter how reckless Dummy had been, Fenrir wouldn’t let one of his own be overwhelmed. Not after Noah had saved him not long ago.

Three trolls had targeted them now, clubs and claws tightening with eagerness. They weren’t instinctively sharp like their blue-skinned leader. They didn’t care for tactics, didn’t wait to measure aura or intent. To them, strength was measured by size alone.

And in their eyes, Fenrir and Dummy were the largest. The most dangerous. The ones worth killing first.

The three trolls once believed they had the advantage. However, one of them was barely moving, its upper body was charred, not even its eyes were spared. The damage was so severe that its regeneration seemed lost to what to heal first.

With two trolls left to face down their opponents, hesitation gripped them. The troll who fought together against Dummy were even more doubtful, its gazes traveling towards its kin whose body was even too weak to cry. They remembered back to when it was just the two of them, they were able to completely dominate the creature with multiple mouths. At least, that’s what it felt like initially... So how did it come to this?

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Back when the fight first began, the creature whose regeneration was nearly as tenacious as their own had suddenly taken on a form that was disturbingly similar to theirs. And when its appearance changed, so did its regeneration.

Their blows hit harder. For some reason, the creature’s strength diminished with its change. This spurred them to deliver decisive blows to quickly put the creature down. More blood was shed, and the sounds of bones breaking began to blend into common white noise.

But the abnormal creature refused to stay down. Each time it took a chunk of them with it. Their attempts to avoid injury were futile. There were just too many mouths to avoid, and trolls weren’t known for their nimbleness.

Their injuries weren’t significant enough to slow them down. They were cautious to avoid the creature’s maw that enveloped along its torso, only allowing the beast to feed on strips of their flesh. But as the injuries grew, as the creature ate and ate and ate. They noticed the creature growing just a little bit stronger within the time of their confrontation.

Even so, its regeneration was faltering. By rights, the damage should have killed it five times over. Without the trolls’ own gift for regeneration, Dummy’s body would have failed long ago. It still hadn’t fully recovered from the earlier battle.

The trolls saw this weakness and pressed harder, treating it as one of their strongest. One circled wide, cutting off its retreat.

A club smashed across his side. His body folded unnaturally. Before he could snap back, claws tore strips into his wounds that were still in the process of healing, digging deep into his flesh to rip out chunks that would take longer to heal.

Dummy staggered. All of his mouths were drooling with saliva and thick clumps of blood. It was hunger alone that kept him upright. He was outnumbered; the fight wasn’t fair from the start. And still, his eyes gleamed with an empty obsession.

Eat and devour.

The trolls were finally gaining confidence again as they pressed him harder. They were always vigilant in their approach, but now they were becoming braver, more daring to exchange injuries to inflict even greater ones.

But then the ground trembled again. Following the tremble, a troll roared, a warning that was centered towards the two.

The two trolls looked, only to see a massive wolf already upon them.

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Fenrir had completely ignored its own target, a troll that was bigger than all of the rest. It wasn’t superior to their leader, but its raw physical strength was far higher. In its hand was a literally uprooted tree. Its strength was too great to wield a regular weapon, and its status was too low to be granted a weapon significant to its tribe. Not even their leader, the blue troll, was granted a special weapon.

It should have been Fenrir’s opponent. It was ready for an unforgivable battle. When the giant beast approached it, it noticed the werewolf’s fur had turned harder, its body seemed to release the pressure of an unmovable fortress.

The troll was eager for battle, uplifting its weapon to charge into the beast directly. But then the beast avoided it altogether. Its body slightly staggering as the troll still managed to charge its weapon into the beast’s side.

When the troll noticed where the beast was going, it was already too late to stop it. The troll could only roar to alert the others as it lifted the tree over its shoulder to give chase.

Dummy never called for help, nor did he cry out in pain; he didn’t have to. Fenrir was paying attention to his pack from the moment he acted recklessly. He wouldn’t allow one of his own to fall, especially not when Noah had taken the effort to save him not that long before.

Fenrir crashed into one of the trolls, its target for the first time was decided with a calculated intention. The troll crashed into the ground under Fenrir’s weight. Its warlike nature drove it to retaliate. Jagged nails lashed upward, stabbing at Fenrir’s underside as he loomed above.

Ding, Ding, Ding.

When the troll hoped to deliver crucial internal damage, its claws met a hard surface, a surface even harder than rock. Splinters of its nails cracked, fragments snapping off as shock spread across the creature’s face.

But the shock didn’t last long. Fenrir loomed like a giant shadow, but that shadow soon blazed like the sun.

Despite the severe handicap when using external magical attacks, Fenrir didn’t hesitate to resort to using his flames. In fact, his body was no longer fully conscious of what he should or shouldn’t do.

Steam poured from his body, rising with the mounting heat of his developing flames. However, that was only partly the truth. When looking into his eyes, it was that of a crazed murderous beast.

Fenrir surrendered completely, using his Wrathful Overlord ability. At the temporary cost of his sanity and spirit, his bodily stats nearly doubled while still having his buffs from Noah.

Fenrir’s body released heaps of steam just from his agitated breathing alone.

When Fenrir opened his jaws, there was no calculation, no restraint. He didn’t think about the toll his fire would take on his mana reserves. He didn’t think about how many breaths he could manage before depleting his mana. There was only the need... to inflict pain.

The flames erupted within the same time they began to form in his throat. A torrent of flames carried forth. The scale of ferocity was nowhere near his original flames, but that didn’t matter. Not when the creature in question was covered in vegetation.

The moss on the troll’s body instantly erupted in flames. The bark on its skin followed soon after. While the majority of the flames stayed anchored on the troll’s face.

At first, there were high-pitch roars, shrieks of agony and fury mingled together. Its claws scraping helplessly at Fenrir’s hardened hide along his legs. But very quickly, the flames breached the troll’s throat, burning away at the creature’s tongue. It didn’t take long before the troll was unable to create another sound.

With their ally being tortured, the closest troll should’ve been quick to help. Despite the degree of unrelenting savagery Fenrir showed, that shouldn’t be enough to keep the creature from lunging in.

But it didn’t.

The troll itched to move, yet it found itself stopping. A noise was rising behind it. Its instincts screamed at it that danger was upon it. A noise of breathing so labored, one would assume the source in question was hyperventilating.

The troll snapped behind it. The beast that they have spent the time beating all this time was different. Its body was larger than before, its eyes dilated, as if drunk on some vile drug no creature should ever taste. Dummy was completely deranged.

Dummy’s sanity was already lower than most ’rational’ creatures, and this was the first time it had indirectly benefited from Fenrir’s ability. Just like Noah’s Wrathful Fury could benefit his vassals, the same was for Fenrir who could ignite his pack with a powerful frenzy.

The troll should have felt lucky. Despite the beast’s sudden surge in strength, its rationale had dulled even further.

But luck quickly twisted into dread.

Because in Dummy’s case, irrationality didn’t weaken him. It evolved his danger.

Up until now, Dummy only fought with one desire, to eat. Every strike, every lunge, every bite had been chained to that obsession. But now, something has shifted. Now, his body was set on something worse.

To kill.

Before the troll could grasp what it was facing, Dummy lunged. Faster than before.

....Much faster.

Dummy had been so focused on feeding that he always ran on his hind legs, arms outstretched, no different from an unevolved zombie.

Now he ran on all fours, his muscles throbbing as his arms propelled him further.

This was no longer the same fight.