Becoming a Monster

Chapter 416: Chapter 416: Berserker’s Revenge

Under the barrage of attacks, the trolls felt something under each impact of their weapons that didn’t make sense. Each attack was becoming dull; the feedback sent through their arms was more pronounced.

Fenrir’s exoskeleton was becoming stronger as the damage accumulated.

Fenrir’s breath leaked out from the attacks. Maddenening snarls fueled his actions.

Blood poured in a heavy burst as Fenrir ripped straight through the troll’s shoulder all the way to its chest, ripping everything apart in one brutal motion.

As his face lifted, swallowing down the mounds of flesh and bone, the troll’s ribs showed through the space of what was left of the troll, and behind it, its heart was barely revealed.

Fenrir didn’t give the creature a chance to recover. His jaws snapped down again. The ribs folded, and the heart was crushed in his bite alongside its core.

What remained of the troll was a creature whose eyes had already lost their savagery, yet there was still residual life. It could only look down at the blood gushing out from where its heart should be. Fenrir suddenly twisted away from it, releasing his grip, allowing the troll to crumble to the ground.

In the same motion, Fenrir already lunged at the nearest troll. There was nothing the troll could do. It had just previously smashed its club into Fenrir’s face, right across his eye. Yet, before it could rebalance itself, Fenrir had grabbed the club, pulling it back towards him.

His strength was undeniable; the troll wasn’t prepared for it. Its grip on the weapon was firm, but Fenrir still yanked the troll toward him before it could brace.

What awaited was a giant fist fully enveloped in flames. The fist was intended to crush the troll’s skull in one blow.

From the scene, it looked as if he succeeded. The troll’s face was hidden behind the gigantic fist, yet it looked completely crushed.

Then the force behind Fenrir’s blow revealed everything. The punch landed with such violent power that the troll’s body was blown backwards.

A few meters away, it instinctively tried to rise. Its head was still in the same shape as before, its skull crushed inward so severely that it affected the rest of its face. Its jaws were unhinged, its cheeks collapsed, and one could barely tell if it still had an eye or if it was lodged deeper inside its head.

Blood flowed from its face, more blood gushed from its arm...or what was left of it.

Thick streams of blood poured down its face, but even that wasn’t the worst of it.

Because more blood was pouring from its shoulder...or rather, where its shoulder used to be. Fenrir still held the troll’s severed arm in his grip, the limb dangling limply, bone exposed, as nerves twitched as if refusing to accept the death of the limb.

And the last troll, the one who had repeatedly bashed Fenrir without hesitation, no longer wore that deranged, battle-hungry expression.

Trolls were barbaric savages. They relished the crunch of bone, the tearing of flesh, the back-and-forth of dishing out pain. They weren’t as twisted as goblins, but they loved the brutality of combat; chaos, carnage, domination.

But this troll?

Its savagery was gone. Its wild eyes, once filled with mindless bloodlust, were wide and trembling now. It looked at its mangled ally, then at the severed arm in Fenrir’s grasp...

And for the first time since the siege began, a troll felt fear.

_________

While Fenrir was fighting his last opponent, Baka did his best not to shame his pack. From his troll heritage, most of his attacks were purely dealt with his fist as he connected with the troll’s gut.

The troll bent with the blow, blood and bile splattering from its mouth, yet it still retaliated with an enraged bellow as it forced itself to fight.

Baka didn’t falter. His fist was already tightening again, ready to hammer the troll a second time, to keep pushing, to prove he wasn’t the weak link of the pack, but he never got the chance.

Two massive fists crashed down onto his back, slamming him into the dirt with enough force to crater the ground beneath him.

Baka roared, not in fear but in fury, his claws shredding into the soil as he tried to rise. The impact rattled him, but pain was nothing new. His blood surged, veins bulging across his arms and neck.

The troll he’d gutted before didn’t give him a chance to move.

A large foot connected with his ribs, flipping him sideways across the dirt. Baka’s breath was blasted out of him. His vision blurred for an instant; then, as the light in his eyes reappeared, they took on a savage glint.

He was becoming angry.

He could feel his blood rushing, his muscles tightening to an unbearable degree, and his pulse throbbing in his skull, louder than war drums.

Even while down, he fought back. As the troll stomped to finish him, Baka’s arm shot out to catch the descending leg, fingers locking around the sole of the troll’s foot, digging in just enough to anchor his grip.

Baka roared, shoving the leg away despite pushing from an awkward position, throwing the troll off balance to give himself a short reprieve so he could recover. But fighting two trolls at once was his limit.

He couldn’t find time to pick himself up before a club struck his back, sending him flat onto the ground. Again, and again.

The third impact cratered the ground beneath him. A significant part of his vitality was already gone, despite his heightened regeneration.

Although Baka was dying, his body was beginning to feel like it was not his own; none of that compared to the fury boiling inside him.

His nails carved trenches into the dirt. His jaws clenched so hard his teeth cracked. His breath came out in uneven, ragged snarls, rage overwhelming the Wrathful Fury already coursing through him.

At this time, the second troll should have returned to stomp him, yet the attack never came. Instead, it was the original troll that raised its club to give him a devastating blow to the back of Baka’s head.

His skull fractures under the impact, his vitality dropping to dangerous levels. For a heartbeat, he didn’t feel like he existed at all. His mind went empty.

Then... Baka’s entire body jerked. One nerve misfired, then all of them lit at once. Something in his mind snapped. His heart hammered once, twice, and on the third beat, it felt like something detonated inside his chest.

His eyes widened, pupils shrinking to needles before dissolving entirely into a bloody haze. His muscles tightened so sharply the ground under him cracked. His regeneration spiked, knitting torn flesh faster than the trolls could damage it. Veins bulged beneath his hide, pulsing with a force his body wasn’t meant to withstand. And it showed as his flesh ripped apart from the mere flexing of his muscles.

The troll standing over him could sense Baka’s changes. Its club was already descending again. This time, the troll swung with intent to pulverize Baka’s skull, to cave it in entirely before the enemy could get up.

The club whistled through the air, and suddenly it stopped. It froze a hair’s breadth from Baka’s head, the air between them vibrating from the force behind it. The sudden halt created a gust, stirring the grass and dust beneath them.

The troll realized, too late, why its attack didn’t land. A single hand was wrapped around the club’s shaft.

Baka’s hand.

His fingers were locked around the wood, muscles bulging so violently beneath his skin that they tore open in several places.

Baka’s head rose, blood streamed down his face, but the expression he wore was that of a beast without reason.

The thick wooden club split under the pressure of his grasp, splintering along its length as if it were rotted bark. The troll’s eyes went wide. It lurched back with all its might to retrieve its weapon, but the moment of retreat was all Baka needed.

Despite the physical signs of explosive strength, Baka didn’t become faster. He didn’t need to.

He grabbed the troll’s forearm before it could make the decision to let go. The moment Baka pressed down, its arm bent, bone stabbed through its skin. The pain was met with the troll’s roar that never finished.

Baka’s fist came crashing down onto the same arm that it had grabbed. It was pure spite, Baka’s hatred fixed entirely on the arm that had wielded the club against him. The club had already fallen to the ground, the arm completely useless. Almost every bone was completely shattered, the troll had already staggered to the ground on one knee.

When it was experiencing the worst pain, the feeling suddenly lightened.

Because Baka had already let go of its arm to grab the fallen club.

He rose, lifting it with both hands, and swung downward with all the hatred boiling inside him. The club split; so did the troll’s face. Its skull split from its forehead to jaw, and blood and bone fragments burst outward.

The troll collapsed to its back, its eyes nearly empty from the trauma.

Instead of attacking again, the club in Baka’s hands dropped.

His claws sank into the split face, digging past flesh and hooking into the fractured bone. He tore through the troll’s skull. Blood poured out in heavy streams. Beneath the torn plates of bone lay the trembling remains of its skull...

... and its exposed brain.