[Author's Note: I think there was a bit of a misunderstanding from the last chapter. The Brazinger Clan isn't a werewolf clan, though I can see now how that could be the conclusion you guys would make. I won't say anymore, I prefer to explain via the story's narrative]
The man's face distorted. The cracks to his bones and teeth healed as his nose became a snout and his hands gained claws.
The clothes on his back tore to shreds, revealing a tight compression suit that covered much of his fur.
Though all six were weremen, the beasts they morphed into were completely different. While the man who wielded Aina's ax seemed to be crossbred with a wolf, one seemed more akin to a fox, another looked more like a hyena with gross colored yellow fur. In addition, there was a panther, a cheetah-like man, and finally a … rat?
Of all the men, there was one who instead of growing in size shrank instead. In addition, the boosts to his stats were the most minimal. However, when Leonel's gaze landed on him, the blaring sounds of warning shot through his mind.
Leonel couldn't understand where this warning was coming from. He was certain that he didn't have such an ability. So what was going on?
Unfortunately, there wasn't time to think about it. The werewolf's howl had come to an end, fiendish growls and dripping saliva fell from his sharp teeth, a crazed glare piercing toward Aina.
He gripped Aina's ax, his muscles pushing against his compression clothing like tightened steel cords. The power brimming in his body was simply unimaginable.
His and Aina's gazes collided in the air before they simultaneously shot forward, fury painting both of their features.
Leonel no longer hung back. He was already not far from the group after his initial charge. In addition, it was in none of their best interests for this battle to drag on.
As though in tacit agreement, none of them used their Force. If they did so and caused an Invalid horde to make their way here… They wouldn't even know how they died.
Leonel stopped hesitating, his wooden spear piercing toward the werehyena.
He had expected it to be no more than a normal strike. But, the moment he used the spear, he felt a savage aura envelop his body. It was as though he had entered the jungle once more, and this man before him was not a man, but rather a real beast…
Leonel's eyes reddened, a savage grin appearing on his face.
His sudden change caused the werehyena to be at a loss. Before the latter could react, the stone blade had already appeared at his neck. In that moment, he really felt he would lose his life. The bloodthirsty pressure emitting from Leonel was no different than one of a predator stalking his prey.
A claw suddenly appeared before the werehyena's throat. The werepanther had reacted quickly, his blackened paw leaving silver streaks in the air to bat Leonel's spear away.
It should have been a simple task. His claws were no weaker than a C-grade blade. The sight of him dicing up the stone blade of Leonel's monkey weapon had already played in his mind countless times.
But reality was cruel.
Leonel's savage grin didn't fade as his wrist twisted. With impossible coordination, the werepanther's claw, which had been aimed at the flat of the blade, was suddenly aimed at its edge.
Leonel's arm swept upward as though this was the strike he wanted to levy from the very beginning.
The agonizing roars of the werepanther sounded as three of his bestial fingers had been lost.
Leonel didn't give him time to retreat. His hips swung, his legs flexed, his toes almost dug through his treasure shoes to leave ten indents on the broken concrete beneath their feet.
His body was like a well oiled engine. Each action was perfectly supported by a supplementary muscle. The tiniest fibers, the weakest ligaments, each was put into motion, squeezing out their greatest potential.
If Leonel was truly conscious at this moment, he would realize that his coordination stat had touched upon an eye popping number.
His speed exploded, reaching the chest of the roaring werepanther in a flash. He had lost the werehyena due to his interruption, so shouldn't he pay a price?
The actions were too sudden. The head of a man turned panther flew into the skies, a fountain of blood raining down and coating Leonel.
Droplets of crimson fell onto Leonel's face. Though the sounds of Aina and the werewolf acted as a backdrop, to the four remaining beastmen around him, it felt like the world had fallen silent.
Leonel turned his head back toward the four. Maybe by coincidence, a tear of blood fell to the corner of his lips.
His tongue snaked out, licking it away as though he was savoring the last drop of a meal.
The Spear Domain ring glowed and vibrated excitedly on his finger. It released a searing heat that poured into the primitive spear.
The four beastmen inadvertently took a step back.
They could see it clearly. It felt like the temperature was steadily rising, but there was clearly no fire ability attached to Leonel's state. It was as though his blood was boiling with excitement instead. He was so excited to kill them that steam was emitting from his body, covering the air around him in a faint white mist.
At that moment, the sound of bones being cracked and blood curdling screams resounded through the battlefield.
The four beastmen looked over to find Aina savagely stomping and grinding into the werewolf's digitigrade legs.
Her ax had already been flung to the side, the crimson aura coating her body radiating out with a fierce momentum.
The sight of a small woman of barely 5'7" torturing a beastman who stood at over seven feet made others feel the need to wipe their eyes clean. But, there was no mistake about it.
The current Leonel didn't seem to care for these changes. In fact, he hadn't even looked over to where Aina was. The moment he saw that his prey had actually looked away from him, he sensed opportunity. It was a gripping feeling that surged through his heart, an instinct ingrained into his very being.
The werefox only managed to react after his next attempt at speech came out like the gargles of a baby. His last sight was that of a spear jetting out from his throat.
Leonel wanted to take advantage of the situation to lop off another head, but before he could, a surging tide of Force shot into the skies.
Leonel's expression changed, the crimson in his eyes fading away as he regained clarity. He didn't even have time to wonder just what had happened to his state of mind just now. His head whipped back toward Aina and the werewolf's body, only to find that the situation had changed once more.
Aina had created some distance between herself and the werewolf. Her expression was a mixture of disdain and a small bit of helplessness. She knew she had made a mistake. Her actions were emotional and rage fueled. Had she simply killed the werewolf instead of giving him a chance to activate his Force, this wouldn't have happened.
Obviously, she hadn't been overwhelmed by the Force of this werewolf. Rather, she had chosen not to use her Force, not much unlike all the others. However, this fool actually used his without regard for the situation.
They were in the middle of nowhere. The nearest Fort was at least a three hour's drive away. Yet, this idiot released his Force like this.
Leonel's expression turned serious. He could already sense several Invalids who had turned their attention toward this place.