Aris didn't really know what held him back during the fights against those little beasts. Honestly, it was rather obvious.
He knew that after defeating one group, another would pop out of nowhere to bite him all over his body. So he saved his strength every day, waiting for the next battle, just so he wouldn't be too exhausted before facing another pack.
But now, something was strange. Ever since he had started eating the fennec orbs and the organs drained of black blood, he felt… madness.
An intense, murderous rage toward everything that moved across the western lands. Why? He had no idea.
He suspected it was a side effect of eating the beasts, that their blood was nothing more than a deadly poison driving him astray.
And yet, he also knew he had no other choice. Not only did his stomach scream at him the moment he went underfed, but hunger was often replaced by rage and bloodlust whenever he fought.
It was almost pleasant to forget he was hungry. But it was disturbing to turn into a heartless monster, thirsty for flesh and blood.
The problem was that the more Aris ate, the less he thought of it as disturbing. On the contrary, he began to hope it would return again and again. A deep desire — a voluntary yearning to become a beast — blossomed in his soul.
At first, he had noticed the danger. But he was hungry, and so he kept eating, only as little as he could. Later, though, he began to believe it might even be better to feel this way when killing beasts, completely forgetting the advantage he had in staying calm and calculating with a human mind.
Over time, it returned with every fight.
Each battle, his bloodlust and rage came back to haunt him. And though he once felt only disgust toward them, now… he loved it.
To such an extent that he forgot his rational side. He forgot who he was. He forgot why he had ended up here in the first place…
"After all, they want to kill me, don't they? Then I'll make them taste their own medicine…"
So much so that Aris had become… a true beast himself.
The fennecs stepped back slightly, then began making small hops in retreat.
The predator before them was becoming truly terrifying.
For the first time, they thought it might be useless to attack him any further.
He was not dying, despite the battle against the fox that had been stronger than them. He didn't even seem exhausted. It was hopeless.
But the real question was… could they escape?
Aris noticed one of the fennecs breaking off from the group on his right. It darted swiftly away, its paws barely making a sound on the damp, gray soil.
But Aris had no intention of letting a single one escape.
In a flash, the fallen king lunged at the small beast. The others seized the chance to scatter quickly.
The fennec he had leapt upon was stabbed in less than a second. Black blood spilled from the wound, splattering across the fallen king's face.
Aris turned then, and saw the others trying to flee.
His gaze darkened, becoming void and menacing. He growled at them with a rage that was nearly feral:
"Oh no, you're not going anywhere."
With two great strides, Aris placed himself before most of the group. Some fennecs had the brilliant idea of continuing their run to the sides, scattering in an attempt to confuse the deadly predator.
Aris focused on the ones who had stopped before him. A demonic smile spread across his face as he gripped his knives tightly.
The fennecs wasted no time either. Realizing there was no way to escape the predator, they overcame their fear and hurled themselves at the fallen king.
But this desperate attempt was useless…
The first to reach him was sliced clean in half. Blood splattered as organs spilled to the ground—but they hadn't even hit the dirt before the second fennec, who had leapt at him, was impaled lengthwise, the knife driving straight into its mouth and tearing through its body, crushing everything in its path until it pierced through the other side.
The others froze in shock, but their horror lasted only a moment. One of them saw its neighbor receive a knife straight through the skull, tearing it apart and dropping it instantly. And in the very same second, Aris caught the weapon again, smiling.
The fennec turned its eyes and saw Aris appear on the other side, where another was being ripped apart, torn in two by the predator's sheer strength.
Black blood dripped down Aris's face, though he didn't seem to notice.
No—that wasn't it. He knew full well. He simply enjoyed it.
The fennec wanted to run, but fear froze it in place. Its trembling limbs refused to move. Normally, it was the one who felt immense joy in tearing enemies apart.
Usually, it roamed the gray western lands searching for dead or dying fennecs to sink its teeth into without mercy.
Sometimes it fought for a carcass against another, but it always won. It had survived great melees over the bodies of its kin. It had crushed its rivals while feasting on their flesh, even facing fennecs larger than itself.
The only time it had ever fled was when it stumbled upon the imposing fox, the one who showed those glazed, black eyes. The beast hadn't truly felt fear then, but it knew it couldn't win, nor steal the spoils from that massive predator. So it had left, wandering other corners of the gray lands in hopes of finding another heap of meat to devour.
But it had returned here, to the fox's lair, because it had caught the strong scent of blood. That was unusual—normally, the fox devoured prey far too quickly for any scent to linger. Worse, the dreadful predator licked every drop of blood clean from its kills, leaving nothing behind.
So, intrigued, it had come to take a look.
And its shock had been immense. It found a massive group of fennecs near the fox's rock. At least twenty of them stood there without tearing each other apart, as if they were waiting for something.
The fennec was dismayed. The fox never left a single scrap. But what unsettled it most was that there was no way, by pure reason, that they would have all gathered together to face the great predator. There had to be something else.
The small fennec crept closer—and saw something it never expected in the gray lands. A strange predator, with two long hind legs and two long forelimbs, stood there. Upright, balanced only on its hind legs.
What kind of creature was this?
But what truly shocked it was the sight of the fox it once feared—lying dead beneath the stranger. Black blood seeped across the gray stone, and those glazed black eyes revealed no sign of life. It had happened. The fox was dead.
The fennec was stunned, but for some reason, it felt elated. Because now, before it lay more meat than it had ever seen. Of course, it would have to share with its brothers, but even so, it would still receive an enormous feast.
This was its chance!
So, it stepped out of the shadows with some of its kin. There were about fifteen of them. Their numbers were overwhelming, and the predator was tired. This was the moment.
But strangely, the little fennec heard chuckling behind its back. When it turned, it saw many of its brothers making that high-pitched, grating sound at regular intervals.
It was how they laughed.
And it was bizarre. Why were its brothers laughing instead of attacking the prey? Had they gone mad?
An uneasy feeling crept through its small body.
But in the end, it pushed it aside. Because today, it would feast.
Or so he thought…
Because now, all that filled his vision was a black hand, stinking of his brothers' blood—clinging to a nightmarish body hurtling toward him, crawling just above the ground. Upon its face spread an abominable smile, the grin of pure, murderous insanity.