The Grunt's leap carried it through the air with predatory precision, its olive-green exoskeleton glistening with viscous fluid as it descended upon its helpless prey. Willy's eyes widened in terror as the creature's shadow fell over him, its mandibles clicking in anticipation of fresh meat.
With a sickening crunch, the Zerg clamped onto Willy's legs, its serrated claws digging through flesh and bone. Pain exploded through Willy's consciousness as he felt his femurs crack under the pressure. He opened his mouth to scream, but the agony was so intense that only a strangled gasp escaped his lips.
"AAAAARRRGGGHHH!" The scream finally tore from his throat as the Grunt's claws sliced through his thighs with mechanical efficiency, severing both legs just above the knees.
Blood spurted from the stumps in rhythmic pulses, steam rising immediately as the Titan power attempted to heal the catastrophic injury. But the regeneration was painfully slow—too slow to save him from the immediate threat. The power that had created a 200-meter crystal tree now struggled to close even these wounds, depleted by his earlier transformation.
The Grunt tossed Willy's severed legs aside like discarded refuse, chittering with what almost sounded like satisfaction. It advanced again, mandibles opening wide to deliver the killing blow.
'Is this how it ends?' Willy thought, his vision swimming with the shock of blood loss. 'Torn apart by some insect monster in a world I don't even understand.'
Regret washed over him in his final moments—not fear, but profound disappointment. After a lifetime of maintaining the Tybur family's false narrative, of supporting Marley's oppression while feigning nobility, he had finally found the courage to orchestrate his own death to reveal the truth. He had accepted his role as a villain, a necessary sacrifice for Paradis and Eldia to break free from their cycle of hatred, finally.
Yet here he was, granted a second chance he had never sought nor deserved.
'I could have atoned,' he thought as the Grunt lowered its head toward his exposed neck. 'I could have used this power, this unexpected reprieve, to genuinely help people instead of manipulating them. I could have been the hero I pretended to be for so long.'
Images flashed through his mind—the ruins of the tower he had unwittingly destroyed, the faces of the robed mages who had summoned him, expressions of terror as their creation turned against them. More sins were added to his already heavy burden.
'Whatever this world is... I've already caused harm here too. Perhaps this death is justice after all.'
The Grunt's mandibles closed around his neck, chitinous edges pressing against his carotid arteries. Willy closed his eyes, accepting the inevitable.
But the killing bite never came.
A ferocious roar shattered the moment, followed by the sound of something massive slamming into the Grunt. Willy's eyes snapped open to witness an enormous three-headed canine creature with its jaws locked around the Zerg's thorax. Each of the beast's heads was the size of a man's torso, with teeth like daggers that punctured the Grunt's exoskeleton as if it were paper.
With savage violence, the three-headed hound shook the Grunt like a rag doll, its muscle-bound neck rippling with power. One head maintained its grip on the thorax while the other two tore at the Zerg's limbs. The Grunt's inhuman screech filled the air as it was systematically dismembered, green ichor spraying in all directions.
Within seconds, the Zerg was reduced to twitching pieces, its components still trying to function independently even in death. The three-headed beast dropped the mangled carcass and turned its attention to Willy, all six of its glowing red eyes focusing on him with predatory intensity.
'What manner of creature is this?' Willy thought, his heart pounding as the massive hound approached. It stood at least 5 meters tall at the shoulder, its black fur matted with blood, green from the Zergs and red from what appeared to be its wounds. 'A hellhound? A demon? Some native predator of this world?'
The beast's central head lowered toward him, nostrils flaring as it inhaled his scent. Each breath expelled hot air that smelled of sulphur and blood. Its teeth, each the length of a dagger, were mere centimetres from Willy's face.
Fear gripped Willy's heart as the creature examined him. Despite having faced death moments before, something about this beast triggered a primal terror that the Grunt had not. Perhaps it was the intelligence evident in those burning eyes, or the sheer wrongness of a canine with three heads.
The creature sniffed once more, then abruptly jerked backwards. All three heads emitted a simultaneous yelp of surprise or fear. It backed away several steps, its massive paws leaving indentations in the rubble-strewn ground. The beast's body language shifted from predatory to cautious, almost... respectful?
'It fears me?' Willy wondered, bewildered by the creature's reaction. 'Or something about me?'
He wasn't aware, but his Warhammer Titan form had killed the rest of the Cerberus's brethren, pitifully squashing them like bugs. The one before him was a survivor, having witnessed it all. And now, inhaling the Warhammer Titan's smell on him, its fear had been triggered.
As he studied the beast more carefully, Willy noticed numerous wounds across its body—deep gashes that exposed muscle and bone, clearly inflicted by the same type of creature that had attacked him. There was also a crystal shard embedded in its hind. Despite these injuries, the hellhound stood vigilant, its three heads scanning the surroundings for threats.
The reason for its alertness became apparent moments later as three more Grunts scrambled over a collapsed wall 30 meters away. They paused upon seeing the three-headed hound, their antennae twitching as they assessed this new obstacle.
'No!' Willy's mind screamed, helplessness washing over him again. He remained unable to move, his body still focused on regenerating his severed legs and countless other injuries. 'Not more of them!'
The Grunts were nightmarish in their alien design—olive-green exoskeletons covering bodies that seemed like unholy hybrids of insects and crustaceans. Their limbs ended in vicious claws capable of shearing through steel, while their mandibles clicked with hungry anticipation. Behind each Grunt trailed a tentacle-like appendage tipped with suction pods that left glistening trails on the rubble.
The three-headed hound, Cerberus, positioned itself between him and the approaching Zergs. A deep growl emanated from all three throats simultaneously, the sound so bass-heavy that it vibrated the debris around them.
With surprising speed for its size, the Cerberus launched itself at the Grunts. Its massive body slammed into the lead Zerg, pinning it to the ground while the three heads attacked in perfect coordination. The left head feinted to draw the Grunt's claws, the right head seized the distracted limb, and the central head delivered a killing bite to the thorax.
But the remaining Grunts circled around, attacking the Cerberus from different angles. One leapt onto the hound's back, digging its claws into the already wounded flesh. The other slashed at the Cerberus's flanks, opening new gashes that poured blood onto the rubble.
Despite its injuries, the Cerberus fought with savage determination. It rolled, crushing the Grunt on its back, then lunged forward to seize another in its jaws. The battle was a whirlwind of fur, chitin, blood, and ichor—primal violence distilled to its purest form.
Willy watched in morbid fascination, his mind struggling to process this alien world and its savage ecology. 'What kind of place is this? What sort of evolutionary pressures creates creatures like these?'
So absorbed was he in the battle before him that Willy failed to notice the approach from behind until a hand seized his throat with crushing force. His head was yanked backwards, neck straining as he found himself staring into the face of a human woman.
Her features might once have been considered attractive, but were now transformed by rage and grief. Blood streaked her wizened face from a gash across her forehead, and her robes, once elegant blue with gold embroidery, were torn and stained. Her eyes, rimmed with red from crying, blazed with hatred as she tightened her grip on Willy's throat.
"WHY?!" she screamed, spittle flying from her lips. "Why did you slaughter them?! The entire Summoner Tower—GONE! Hundreds of mages, researchers, CHILDREN! All DEAD because of YOU!"
Her fingers dug into his windpipe, cutting off his air supply. Spots danced before Willy's vision as she continued her tirade.
"We SUMMONED you! We brought you here to SAVE us, not DESTROY us!" Her voice broke, grief momentarily overwhelming rage. "And now the Zergs come, and we have nothing left to defend ourselves with!"
She unsheathed a steel dagger from her robes, pressing its tip against Willy's jugular. "Tell me WHY! Tell me why you murdered them all, or I swear by the Twelve Towers, I will end your miserable existence right here!"
Willy's mouth worked, but no sound emerged as his airway was constricted. The woman, a summoner, he realised, like those who had brought him to this world, slightly loosened her grip, allowing him just enough air to speak.
"I... don't... know..." he gasped, the words barely audible. "Woke up... confused... afraid..."
"LIES!" she hissed, pressing the dagger harder against his skin, drawing a trickle of blood. "You transformed deliberately! You created that—" she gestured wildly at the crystal tree towering above them, "—abomination! Was this your plan all along? Destroy us so the Zergs could finish the job?"
Behind them, the battle between the Cerberus and the Grunts continued, neither side gaining a decisive advantage. The snarls and chittering created a nightmarish soundtrack to the human confrontation unfolding in their shadow.
"Talk!" the woman demanded, edged with desperation. "Why did you do it? What ARE you?"
For the first time since arriving in this world, Willy faced a question he could actually answer, though he doubted the truth would satisfy his captor.
"My name is Willy Tybur," he whispered hoarsely, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "And I hope to atone for my sins."