Becoming a Monster

Chapter 421: Chapter 421: Pain Brings About Wisdom

Dummy wasn’t a beast who preferred fighting. In fact, the only thing he would rather do was eat. If he could, even under the effects of Fenrir’s Wrathful Fury, even under the chaotic battle with his "companions" fighting for their lives. He would have happily kept his face buried in his meal.

Not only was he interrupted, but he was also forced to regurgitate his food.

The attacks had left him with nothing, no chance to eat, no chance to get up, no chance even to roll away and pretend none of this was his problem.

Dummy had never understood emotions or desires besides hunger. But this time he was angry.

His torso opened wider than it had ever done before, and his mouths, located on his hands and face, did as well.

Each one released a roar of madness, a sound so broken it barely resembled anything a living creature should be able to make... And he charged at the troll like a beast who was worthy of being in Fenrir’s pack.

The stone-plated troll stiffened. Its caution had nothing to do with Dummy.

Its fear was for Arachne.

It had watched her butcher the other two elites in the span of breaths, and it knew with full certainty that even a momentary lapse in awareness could mean death. But Dummy barreling toward it created a problem.

It couldn’t keep its eyes on both monsters. It tried to track Arachne to predict where she would appear next. But Dummy closed the distance with reckless speed, forcing the troll to turn its focus just enough to acknowledge him.

Just as the troll felt that Arachne would use this chance to attack it, the rage of the chieftain sounded behind it. Then what followed was its heavy footsteps and the aura of a monster that pressed down on it indiscriminately.

The short troll’s teeth grinded together as it resisted the pressure. And despite the heavyweight, the troll was excited. Despite the helplessness Arachne instilled in it, it had an undeniable faith in its chieftain. A chieftain, just like the chieftains and leaders of other beasts of different species, had the strength that wasn’t far from the accumulated might of its entire tribe.

Even crippled, even wounded, even outnumbered...the chieftain’s presence alone could change the battlefield.

With its chieftain making a move, and Arachne no longer a danger. It braced for Dummy’s approach without worry.

Dummy’s speed had faltered, unlike before, after the chieftain exploded with its heavy aura. His speed fell, but his anger didn’t. It didn’t matter how much stronger the chieftain’s aura was; Dummy would be too ignorant even to take it into consideration.

The short troll’s muscles tightened, its bones popped under the tightening of its arm that was preparing to unleash a punch that would shatter any bone within Dummy’s body. Its eyes swept across Dummy’s warped form, searching for the one place, just one that wasn’t waiting with teeth.

But there was a problem the troll hadn’t realized until now. There wasn’t a vulnerable area.

No matter where it decided to attack, mouths would await it. Fighting Dummy was akin to a fight, with injuries exchanged. A barbaric way of fighting that would make any opponent wary of fighting Dummy head-on.

However, this was what trolls aspired to be: a great fight.

The moment Dummy came into range, the troll pressed forward, exploding with its fist towards the beast’s face. It wasn’t foolish enough to attack near the mouth, which was no different than a dark hole with teeth. Even if Dummy tried to bite its fist, the troll’s knuckles were coated in layers of condensed stone. The bite would hurt, but the punch would still crush him.

As the troll’s arm shot out, mana surged violently along it. Thick veins of power bulged beneath its skin, and from its forearm to its fingers, the limb swelled, doubling in size in an instant. The stone plates along its fists thickened and sharpened at the edges.

Dummy’s mouth caved in under the troll’s momentous fist, driving deep until Dummy’s entire head seemed to collapse around the impact. His entire skull snapped backward as if his neck were a flimsy twig. It left the ravenous creature with little chance to make contact with it before Dummy was thrown backwards from the force.

His head nearly exploded, only barely being left together due to the fact that its open mouth took on the brunt of the attack.

And then it happened. A sound tore out of him that he had never made before; a yelp from fear. The only fear that he ever felt was when Noah tore at his soul.

Dummy’s body spasmed from the damage to its brain.

The hit was too strong. Even his anger couldn’t bridge that gap. Even Fenrir’s Wrath couldn’t patch over the disparity. If not for the fact that his open mouth had taken the brunt of the attack, the damage would have been severe, maybe even lethal. For a heartbeat, Dummy wasn’t a brainless monster that only knew to eat; a monster whose life was bent on selfish hunger.

For the first time, its instincts were to cry out for its leader.

Somewhere across the battlefield, Fenrir’s ears snapped up. His eyes regained sharp clarity that pulled him out of his Wrath after destroying his last victim, and a growl rose from deep in his chest.

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The troll wasn’t done. The blow was already expected as it charged to quickly finish off the beast to ensure it could prevent any enemy from approaching its leader’s battle.

Dummy, meanwhile, struggled to stand. His head hung crookedly, and the use of his mouth was gone. Drool mixed with blood poured from the corners of his mouth.

Before Dummy could act, the troll arrived over its head. Dummy’s eyes were smashed, still recovering, preventing it from being able to see the troll’s legs suddenly show the same transformation as its arm. This attack was going to be deadlier than the first blow. If it landed, it would end him.

The troll raised its leg but stopped. Not because of doubt or caution of its down foe.

The temperature was rising. A blistering wave of heat was rising on its back, so much so that its body burst into sweat.

Then, when the heat rose even higher, it heard it. Heavy breathing that was so close it nearly startled it.

Quakes from its chieftain battle had already drowned out its attention to the sounds around it. The quakes it felt earlier were all assumed to be the heavy steps of their strongest warrior.

But when it turned around-

No...

Even before it turned around, it knew the enemy was directly behind it.

Flames entered its periphery before it could make out the enemy’s appearance.

Fenrir’s entire body was wrapped in flames that burned in a wild yet controlled distance around his body. Smoke curled from his jaws with every exhale, and the edges of his back and throat glowed like molten iron every few breaths, as if it was contemplating releasing hell onto the enemy.

His eyes were locked on Dummy. He was the only reason Fenrir hadn’t unleashed his flames already.

Despite every moment Dummy had disappointed him, every headache and risk he had caused, Fenrir still recognized him as his pack. His responsibility.

There was doubt that Dummy would survive. His head was unrecognizable. It would be a miracle if he lived through this. But seeing his chest heave, the beast, somehow using the mouth on its torso to breathe, it finally eased Fenrir’s tension.

His heated gaze then shifted to the troll.

The killing intent that surged out was so suffocating that, to the troll, it felt as if his gaze alone was fueling Fenrir’s flames.

Something seemed to click within Fenrir as his mana furiously churned.

His body was changing. Bones cracked as his body slightly grew. His armored hide thickened, becoming more pronounced. The hardened areas over his face extended further down his snout, shaping into a demonic mask.

His claws grew longer, sharper, curving into weapons more deadlier than his fangs. His fur bristled out, his werewolf traits deepened, making him appear more feral than before.

Maybe it was its anger, or the spur of emotion to save Dummy, or maybe it was the hidden effect of the dungeon’s energy. But under these conditions, Fenrir’s ability, Transcendent Cataclysm, had grown stronger.

And all of this, every inch of Fenrir’s transformation, was caught by the troll as it slowly turned around.

Unlike its chieftain, it didn’t feel a weighted pressure as it stood directly in front of the monstrous beast. The feeling was far more complicated than that.

How does prey feel when caught in the eyes of a predator with nowhere to run?

The troll had never known. It was always the predator. But now it felt that it understood.

The sound of his leader roared again, making it remember that it will still be found as long as its leader was here.

It gulped down whatever trepidation was preventing it from moving. With every limb turning to dense stone, the troll’s power erupted in one desperate surge. It hurled itself at Fenrir, roaring to drown out its own terror.