Ash stared at the titan before him. Fenrir, in his gargantuan wolf form, was no longer just a student; he was a catastrophe of fur and muscle.
From observing Fenrir's earlier slaughter of the armored rhino, Ash knew that every physical parameter of this beast far eclipsed that of a standard Opener.
If Fenrir activated his augmentation now, he wouldn't just be fast—he would be invisible.
There was only one path to victory left. Ash's gaze sharpened, the gray of his eyes swirling into a deeper, more ominous shade.
'Activate: [Eyes of the Void].'
The world lost its color, stripping down to raw data and anatomical structures. Instantly, three glowing points of failure manifested on the wolf's massive frame: the base of the cervical spine, the center of the chest, and the joint of the rear left leg.
Ash didn't need to kill Fenrir; he just needed to dismantle the machine.
Fenrir, sensing the shift in Ash's aura, let out a guttural huff. He didn't understand the change in Ash's eyes, but his pride burned hotter than any curiosity.
'Whatever trick you're hiding, it won't be enough to stop me!'
[Body Enhancement]
A murky black mist erupted from Fenrir's pores, coating his fur. He was burning through his remaining mana.
His transformation had a strict two-minute limit; one minute had already been spent on the rhino. He had sixty seconds to end this.
"RAWLLL!"
The wolf exploded forward, a 300-kilogram blur of obsidian fur hitting speeds of eighty kilometers per hour.
'Too fast!'
Ash threw himself to the side, the wind of Fenrir's passage nearly knocking him over.
The wolf didn't lose momentum; he used the surrounding trees as springboards, leaping from trunk to trunk with terrifying agility before diving toward Ash with claws extended.
Ash leaped, trying to clear the arc of the strike, but the wolf was faster in the air. Fenrir's reinforced claws caught Ash mid-flight.
With no footing to dodge, Ash could only hoist the silver spear in a desperate block.
CRACK—!
The impact was cataclysmic. The force of the downward swipe slammed Ash into the forest floor.
BOOM!
Ash was sent tumbling through two saplings, the wood splintering against his back. A white-hot flare of agony shot up his spine.
Any normal human would have been paralyzed, but the reinforced physiology of an Opener kept his bones intact, though his lungs screamed for air.
"RAWLL!"
Fenrir gave him no quarter. He descended like a storm of blades, his claws shredding the earth where Ash had lain a microsecond before.
Ash rolled, scrambled, and parried, the silver spear vibrating so violently it numbed his hands.
CRASH!
A massive overhead strike missed Ash's skull by an inch, cratering the ground.
'There!'
Through the [Eyes of the Void], Ash saw the opening. As Fenrir's weight shifted forward from the missed strike, Ash lunged.
The silver spear hissed through the air, driven by every ounce of his remaining strength, aiming directly for the joint of Fenrir's rear left leg.
The spearhead bit deep. Fenrir let out a muffled grunt of agony, his jaw snapping shut as he refused to scream. Even as the spear pierced his muscle, the wolf counter-attacked, a clawed hand whipping toward Ash's chest.
Ash wrenched the spear free and leaped back, but the distance was too short.
Slash—!
A deep, jagged laceration opened across Ash's right forearm. Blood soaked through his black sleeve instantly. As a right-handed fighter, this was a crippling blow.
His grip weakened, and his precision faltered.
The two combatants stood ten paces apart, panting heavily, blood dripping into the dirt. On the surface, it looked like a stalemate, but the scales were tipping.
Fenrir's massive size made him an easier target for Ash's surgical strikes, and his time was running out. If the transformation broke, Fenrir would enter a five-minute state of total exhaustion—a death sentence in a place like this.
Tap—tap—
Suddenly, the heavens wept. The clear sky of the simulation was swallowed by heavy, slate-gray clouds. Within seconds, the drizzle turned into a torrential downpour, a wall of water that blurred the treeline.
In other parts of the forest, students scrambled for cover, desperate to keep their gear dry and their spirits from shivering.
But under the shadow of the great oaks, Ash and Fenrir remained. The rain washed the blood from their faces, but it couldn't cool the intensity of their stares.
They lunged again.
The forest echoed with the rhythmic clack-clink of steel against claw. Ash moved through the rain like a ghost, his [Adaptation] finally clicking into place. He was no longer reacting to Fenrir; he was anticipating him.
Every twitch of the wolf's ear told Ash where the next strike would land.
Fenrir was flagging. His movements were becoming sluggish, the wound in his leg hampering his explosive speed.
'Am I... going to lose?'
Fenrir looked at the figure across the rain. Ash stood there, his face a mask of terrifying indifference. It was as if this battle, this struggle for life and death, wasn't even enough to stir his soul.
'If I can't even defeat him... how can I...'
A jagged memory tore through Fenrir's mind. A forest. Rain. Just like this.
He saw himself as a small, shivering boy crouched behind a rotting log.
He remembered the sound of laughter—cruel, mocking laughter—mixing with the screams of his kin.
He remembered the smell of wet earth and copper-thick blood. He remembered the eyes of the one who was dragged away, looking at him one last time as he hid in fear.
He had been powerless then. He had been nothing.
WHOOSH—
A spark of something ancient and volatile ignited in the depths of Fenrir's heart. It started small, then roared into a conflagration that threatened to consume his very mind.
'HOW CAN I EVER KILL THEM ALL IF I FAIL HERE?!'
"CRAWLLLLLLLL!"
A roar of pure, unadulterated rage shattered the sound of the falling rain.
...
"Is that... Berserk state?" General Hildart leaned forward, his eyes narrowed.
[Berserk] was a catastrophic phenomenon exclusive to Core of Form users. When pushed by trauma, agony, or absolute fury, the beast within overthrew the mind. In this state, the user's parameters soared toward those of a Semi-Predator, but they lost all sense of self. It was a trade-off of sanity for slaughter.
Hildart watched Ash on the screen.
"Let's see how would this boy face a mindless monster ?"
...
"CRAWLLLLL!"
Fenrir, now a three-meter-tall nightmare of bulging muscle and blood-red eyes, vanished. He hit 130 kilometers per hour, a speed that transcended the perception of most Openers.
Ash's intuition screamed. He tilted his head, a claw passing so close it took a lock of his hair. The shockwave of the missed strike cracked the ground beneath them.
Ash didn't fight back. He turned and sprinted deeper into the woods, Fenrir hot on his heels like a demon of vengeance.
'He's unstable,' Ash thought, his heart hammering against his ribs. 'This state is unsustainable. I just have to outlast the timer.'
But Fenrir was relentless. He appeared at Ash's flank, a massive claw descending. Ash blocked with the spear.
BANG!
The force sent Ash flying. He looked at his weapon; a hairline fracture had appeared on the silver shaft. One more hit like that, and he would be unarmed.
"CRAWLLLLL!"
The wolf lunged again. Ash dodged, but the serrated claws left shallow red lines across his duster. In a moment of sheer bad luck, Ash's boot caught on a protruding root. He stumbled.
It was all the opening the beast needed.
Fenrir's massive jaws lunged, teeth like daggers aiming to snap Ash in half. With no time to roll, Ash thrust the spear horizontally into the wolf's mouth, using it as a bit.
"Kuh..."
The pressure was gargantuan. Ash's feet sank into the mud as the three-meter wolf tried to crush him into the earth. Ash looked into those red, mindless eyes and saw nothing but a void of pain.
'I have to end this now.'
Ash let go of the spear. As the wolf's head lurched forward from the sudden lack of resistance, Ash ducked.
Ash ducked forward and drove his fist upward—
He punched upward, driving his knuckles directly into Fenrir's solar plexus—the chest weak point.
Skin and Fenrir's flesh in this form is extremely tough and even difficult to penetrate, but surprisingly, a small punch from Ash hit Fenrir's chest.
"CRAWL!"
The wolf recoiled, the air driven from his lungs in a pained wheeze. Enraged, the beast tried to snap at him again, but Ash was faster.
He snatched his spear from the mud and delivered a crushing blow with the blunt end to the side of the wolf's jaw, rattling its brain.
Ash leaped back, his limbs trembling from the exertion of fighting a three-meter wall of muscle. He raised the silver spear, preparing for the final, desperate charge.
Then—
The massive wolf form began to flicker and dissolve into golden-black mist. The towering beast shrank, the fur receding, until a bloodied, human Fenrir was stumbling forward through the rain.
Thud.
Fenrir collapsed at the tips of Ash's boots.
The transformation had broken. He lay there, unconscious, his body a map of bruises and shallow cuts.
Ash stood over him for a long moment, the [Eyes of the Void] slowly fading back to gray.
He let out a long, ragged sigh that was lost in the storm.
He didn't leave him. He reached down, hoisted Fenrir's limp body over his shoulder, and began to walk.
The rain continued to fall.
Washing away the echoes of their battle.