Becoming a Monster

Chapter 415: Chapter 415: Chieftain’s Dilemma

The troll chieftain no longer entertained the thought of acquiring the territory, at least right now. It was a brute and wasn’t much of a strategist, yet its experience as a warring tribe aided in its decision.

There was no winning this battle.

Even if they won, the chieftain knew that they would have to sacrifice. And if they truly were fighting the strongest here, then the others would fare much better in the end.

From the thundering sounds in the direction further across from it, the chieftain could already tell the lizardmen were facing the drake. That meant the goblins were lucky. In fact, the chieftain wouldn’t put it past the conniving creatures to slip away, hide, and backstab both them and the lizardmen after they sacrificed half their numbers.

The more it thought about it, the more its jaw tightened.

This entire siege... had already shifted in the enemy’s favor.

Its instincts weren’t warning it anymore.

They were screaming.

But the trolls behind it were still stomping their chests, drooling, snarling, and eager to crush anything in sight.

Idiots.

The chieftain clicked its teeth in frustration.

It could order a retreat. But if it did, the other tribes would mock them for generations.

A troll chieftain retreating was the same as forfeiting its throne.

Even worse, its own tribe would no longer respect it.

The chieftain’s muscles tightened, the realization making its blood burn. There was no winning the territory tonight; there was nothing to gain here.

So instead, they would take as many down with them as possible. Only then would its decision to flee be met with little to no resistance. The goblins wouldn’t dare to insult it after not having to do anything, and its own would have even less to complain about.

It stomped its foot before it roared.

"Break them! Eat them! None Leave!" Noah made its unintelligible roar out.

The trolls erupted into a frenzy. And with that final command, the chieftain abandoned every thought of strategy and long-term gains.

This had become what trolls understood best.

A slaughter.

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The first collision happened immediately. The trolls rushed all at once. Yet three of them approached slowly alongside the chieftain. These three were among the chieftains’ elite. It wouldn’t bat an eye if the others died as long as they achieved results, but the elites were different. It had invested too much into them to risk them on the front line until the outcome was clearer.

But the others were perfect for a brutal opening.

The twelve that charged were expendable, but they were by no means weak. Just from the pressure they exuded alone, their strength seemed to be on par with the blue troll that they had encountered with their scouts.

They didn’t intend to fight fair. They didn’t care that only four stood in the frontline. They didn’t care that more enemies waited behind them. These trolls didn’t believe in one-on-one combat in war.

The moment they saw Fenrir, Dummy, Baka, and Kratos standing shoulder to shoulder, they decided to crush them at once.

__________

Noah didn’t command at all, and he didn’t need to.

Kratos had already reacted to the sudden charge, as if he knew what they were planning seconds before they moved. His muscles bulged instantly, mana flooding through them; his jaws swelled with a pulsing, unstable energy. It wasn’t the weak sputter he produced before.

The dungeon was already showing its effects.

He fired the explosive sphere dead center into the cluster of trolls. The blast swallowed three of them in a violent shockwave.

The troll who took the hit head-on crashed forward. The explosion punched straight into its chest, causing its body to fold mid-stride. Despite the instant pain, its body still reacted to prevent itself from completely flopping to the ground.

It gasped as it struggled for breath; the area of impact was caved in with dark burns. The flesh around it was seared. Yet even with its injuries, the troll didn’t stay down. Its burnt muscles bulged, and its body was already trying to knead itself back together. Steam hissed from the wound as the charred skin shed itself.

The other two trolls managed much better. The shockwave merely staggered them; their arms and sides showed bruising, but their momentum wasn’t hindered at all.

They kept running, and the others did too. They didn’t look at the injured one; they didn’t care if it got up or not. They were trolls; this was normal. If anything, the attack only made them crazier.

Kratos wasn’t fazed that the troll was still moving after a direct attack of his strongest ability. His battle instincts were strong; he could already sense that these trolls were stronger than before. The fact that his attack went from a small annoyance when up against the drake, into what it was now, he couldn’t ask for more.

Even before seeing the results, Kratos disappeared from where he stood. He had time to transform into his much stronger physical form, yet he decided not to. He no longer believed he should confront the enemy head-on. What he needed to do was disrupt the enemy’s ability to converge on all of them at once.

He reappeared right in front of the nearest troll.

The troll didn’t even register the blur. It only felt a staggering pain as its right eye ruptured.

Kratos’s tail had pierced straight through the socket, burying itself deep before ripping free in the same motion. Blood sprayed out in a harsh arc, the troll reeling backward with agony, stomping its charge to pacify to the sudden attack. But Kratos didn’t linger.

Kratos’s jaws were already opening toward the next one rushing past.

He didn’t charge the attack up like last time as he quickly fired. The small condensed blast landed on the troll’s back, right below the nap. The explosion wasn’t enough to break bones like before, but it hit hard enough to flip the troll forward into the dirt.

Before Kratos could land to seek out another target, Fenrir led his pack into battle. Outnumbered or not, Fenrir wasn’t going to allow himself to be outdone. With Kratos delaying four enemies, there were still eight left barreling towards them.

He chose to lunge into the largest group.

If Kratos felt stronger after the dungeons changed, Fenrir felt like a whole new beast. Not because the dungeon affected him more, but because Noah indirectly increased the prowess of every one of his main creatures as his own power grew stronger.

Fenrir’s body was now a combination of three different species, as his body went into his strongest transformation, which increased his strength even further. His eyes were blazing with madness through the use of his Wrathful Fury skill, which was used immediately, not just for him, but because the skill influenced all of his pack members.

Both Dummy and Baka, under the combined effects of Noah’s amplification and Fenrir’s wrath, were now able to stand toe to toe with a troll in raw strength. In Dummy’s case, the change was even more extreme.

With the three fighting together, even being outnumbered, they could overwhelm the five trolls head-on.

Yet Dummy was played by his own rules. His mouths were already salivating with a deranged madness. The smell of burnt meat consumed his senses. He bypassed the other trolls.

Even as a nearby troll slammed a club into his side, causing all of the bark in that area to completely shatter, nearly breaking his arm, he didn’t even scream. He didn’t slow. He planted that same injured arm into the ground to steady himself, then pushed off it, bones cracking, to sprint even faster toward the injured troll whose burnt skin was still knitting itself back together.

Fenrir didn’t intend to stop him; in fact, Fenrir was too crazed to recognize Dummy’s fixation.

Baka, however, stayed with his alpha. His instincts made him cling tightly to the pack’s formation even while Wrathful Fury hammered through his veins.

Fenrir met the first troll head-on.

Thud!

The troll attacked with its own club. The attack landed without fail onto Fenrir’s collarbone, but even the troll wasn’t ready for the sound that followed.

It wasn’t the sound of shattering bone. A hard, ringing clang rippled out from Fenrir’s body as if the club had struck armor instead of flesh.

Fenrir met the attack head-on. His eyes were locked onto the troll with unhinged focus as his jaws clamped around the troll’s own shoulders, his claws clamping down around the troll’s arms as he was determined to bite through the troll’s body entirely.

The troll couldn’t swing. It couldn’t push Fenrir off. It was trapped.

So it resorted to instinct. It snapped its teeth toward Fenrir’s face, sinking them in with the intention of ripping free.

Crack!

Fenrir’s face felt like biting stone. No, worse than stone. The troll could easily crush stone with its jaws.

It suddenly felt Fenrir’s jaws digging further into it. In a last, desperate attempt, it jerked its head forward and slammed its skull against Fenrir’s, trying to break Fenrir’s head open if its teeth couldn’t.

Three trolls rush him from the sides, ignoring their ally’s plight entirely. Their actions seemed to be trying to save him, but what they truly wanted was to attack a defenseless target. Clubs and fists crashed towards Fenrir’s head and back.

They could feel the feedback from Fenrir’s armored hide; they expected Fenrir to soon falter under their assault.

They didn’t realize that each attack was only creating a monster.