The western lands hadn't changed at all. Jagged gray rocks still jutted out at odd angles as far as the eye could see. The wet, gray ground never let water stay in one place for more than a heartbeat. Droplets scattered like tiny stars, shining like motionless fireflies under the pale sky. Above, the clouds were heavy and low—once again, smothering the horizon.
A familiar, almost soothing sight. Nothing had changed for centuries.The bright-orange fennecs still roamed, their coats absurdly conspicuous against the gray, scavenging for corpses or half-dead beasts.
And the foxes hunted them, merciless and sharp-toothed, ripping their flesh apart with thousands of dagger-shaped crocs.
Life here existed in a fragile, brutal balance—a balance that had no place for humans.
Unless he became a beast himself.
And that's exactly what had happened to the only man who had dared to wander here, seeking to escape his own world.
Near a slightly larger rock, surrounded by hundred of fennecs and eager foxes, stood a creature with two front limbs—limbs used only to hold razor-sharp black stones. Its hind legs were monstrous, slamming down on anything foolish enough to get too close.
The fennecs giggled in their eerie way, as they had for nearly a month now. The foxes watched quietly, but their tails twitched with excitement.
And in the center of it all—Aris was fighting four hungry foxes at once.
"Damn… this is fun."
He didn't even look miserable. If anything, the fallen king was enjoying himself.
This wasn't a hunt day, but the foxes had decided to try their luck, thinking four against one was enough. Maybe it was. But Aris—despite having no real advantage—didn't falter for even a second.
Instead, he grinned.
Like a mad beast.
"It's been so long since I felt like I could die…"
And it had been long. For weeks, no opponent had been worth his time. He had grown bored—so bored that he had regained some of his clarity.
A strange process, considering he used to lose his mind at the sight of the smallest prey.
Even now, the foxes weren't enough. Aris carved through them, bit into their flesh without hesitation, and slashed with his crude blades—blades he had taken the time to sharpen until they were nearly twenty centimeters long.
Aris was proud of them, and he kept on killing with them. The strange rocks of the western lands were unnaturally solid. He had never seen a material so hard, so unyielding. He suspected he had seen these stones somewhere else in his kingdom before, but he had never been able to confirm it.
Nevertheless, he did not complain. He now possessed weapons of madness, with handles he had crafted by himself. He had merely reduced the volume of the dull side of the stone, polishing it ever so slightly. Of course, he had no proper tools for such a task, so it was far from perfect. But it was enough—enough for him to wrap some threads around it, making it just a little more comfortable to hold in his hands.
It turned the already dark-gray knife even darker, the handle nothing more than threads wrapped tightly around the roughly polished surface by Aris. It was strangely beautiful, yet crude. Still, it did the job.
Aris had killed over fifty more beasts—foxes and fennecs alike—since that week. Or at least, he thought it had been a week since he last bothered to count. Either way, the four foxes circling him now might soon be added to his collection.
But they weren't easy prey. They moved like seasoned warriors, knowing exactly how to surround their prey with precision. And although Aris knew how to defeat them, it was by no means an easy task.
Yet, at the very last moment, his eyes caught the silent fox. He dodged instinctively, lowering himself forward — only to be met with the shocking sight of another fox leaping straight for his exposed head at the exact same instant. He was trapped. And he knew the other two had surely lunged as well, aiming for his legs.
"Shit…"
And yet, despite the hopeless situation, Aris smiled like a demon.
Instinctively, he planted his hand on the ground and pushed off with savage strength.
In an instant, the foxes were no longer charging at a human turned beast — but at a spinning top whirling at incredible speed, just barely skimming the ground.
Yes, the Mad Beast was capable of such an inhuman feat...
In less than a second, the fox leaping at his right took the left-hand knife straight to the skull, while Aris's lips stretched into a grin filled with pure madness. The one lunging at his front received the black knife in his right hand, and the last one was kicked by his left foot, sent flying even higher.
The three who had been in a perfect position of advantage just moments ago were completely thrown out of the fight.
The Mad Beast was simply too strong.
The fox stabbed through the skull with the left-hand knife collapsed to the ground, black blood gushing out like a fountain. Aris stomped down on its head savagely as he landed, crushing it with his full weight.
The fennecs howled with laughter.
The corpse before him had been so cleanly split in two that its halves neatly avoided touching the grinning. The fallen king who now smiled without restraint — eyes wide open, heart pounding with wild ecstasy.
The fox that had failed its surprise attack began to slowly retreat, realizing too late that this had been a terrible idea. But it had no time to think further — Aris had already pounced at a speed that left no room to run.
The Mad Beast's foot slammed into its stomach, lifting it off the ground, before he grabbed it mid-air. Aris' terrified reflection shone in the fox's eyes as it whimpered in pain.
Then, Aris smashed its head into the ground...again and again.
The fennecs shivered violently... then grinned even wider.
This wasn't a fight anymore. It was a massacre.
It had only taken one single move to turn the tide completely in the Mad Beast's favor.
Their chilling laughter echoed, matching the rhythm of the fox's head being slammed into the wet, gray earth.
The last fox watched the scene like he was witnessing the end of the world.
Two of his kin had been killed in an instant, skulls split open by nothing more than simple knives — while the Mad Beast spun like a whirlwind just above the ground.
The final one was now being crushed into the earth, Aris grinning with a bloodstained, bone-chilling smile — completely, utterly insane.
It was too much...Even for him.
But just as he tried to run, a wall of beasts blocked his way.
The foxes and fennecs who followed Aris lined up before him, cutting off his escape.
The fox froze in place.
Had he been human, his face would have been pale as snow. As it was, his heart was on the verge of giving out — if he even had one.
He tried to growl, a last desperate attempt to intimidate the pack.
But the sound only made things worse.
Instead of backing off, the foxes and fennecs bared their thousands of silver teeth, perfectly lined up in rows, and advanced slowly toward the doomed fox.
He could only lower his ears and step back in terror.
This was wrong...This should never happen in the lands of the West...It wasn't normal...It wasn't supposed to..
But no matter his protests, no matter what was supposed to happen... He never even got the chance to know what true fear was before being torn apart by a hundred of his own kind, all fighting over his flesh.
Aris turned calmly, feeling the chaos erupting behind him.
His calm had returned cause the beast in his grip was dead. Its body was nothing but trash now, crushed beyond recognition.
He watched his little pack devour the last remaining fox with complete indifference.
Now that his mind was clearer, he briefly wondered how things had escalated this far.
But that unpleasant feeling quickly faded.
Because now...
Hunger returned to him.