NOVEL SIMPLE 084 – She, Who Witnessed Their Determination
The law was self-imposed, after all.
The strong could dominate the weak at their discretion.
This principle wasn't exclusive to the beastmen's realm. Power, be it financial, fame or political, could always be distilled into violence. I recall reading or hearing something along those lines somewhere; it’s a partial truth, no doubt.
A stronger force could impose its will on the weaker, and it was allowed simply because it was strong.
What a wonderful world, quite the irony~
"Truly, they are incredible savages," I said.
It was my honest opinion, though no one else agreed with me.
Werewolves hunt in packs.
The same seemed to hold true for the werewolf beastmen. In retrospect, perhaps the reason for the individual defeats of Zamba and Gyalan was because they fought alone.
The pack of werewolves attacking Randall, even as a group, stood no chance against him individually. In fact, their all-out strikes, likely their best, were effortlessly deflected by the Beast King's 'claws.' Not only that, but repeated encounters resulted in the werewolves' attacks being crushed, with Randall's 'claws' striking back.
The sound of anguish, the spray of blood, and probably pieces of flesh. And then—shattered armor.
Armor, a rarity in the beastmen's domain, was now seen.
This metal armor somehow managed to lessen the blow of Randall's 'claw strikes,' allowing some to survive attacks that should have been fatal.
Of course, it wasn’t foolproof. Despite the armor, two werewolves lay unmoving on the ground, impaled by the Beast King’s claws.
After witnessing this, the werewolves became more cautious, their reckless attacks turning into tentative maneuvers.
But such a stalemate could only last so long.
“Enough of this nonsense, you worthless weaklings!” Randall snarled.
Switching from defense to offense, Randall lunged forward. Using all four limbs in a beast-like gait, he gouged the ground and sent dirt flying with each step, sinking his fangs into the neck of a werewolf that had come too close.
He bit down, like a lion would.
However, if the lion bites, the werewolf can also—
In that brief moment, when Randall switched from defense to attack—a moment too fleeting to even call a gap—the werewolves pounced. It was as if they had planned it all along. They latched onto the Beast King with their fangs, only to be violently flung away by his sheer brute force, much like swatting a fly off the back of one’s hand.
Yet, the fangs had sunk in. Blood dripped from Randall’s shoulders and arms.
Of course, Randall paid no mind to such injuries. He immediately pursued one of the werewolves he had thrown, impaling it with his claws while it was still rolling on the ground. Then, he closed in on another werewolf and with a swing of his claws, sliced through its armored arm.
“…So that leaves five,” Serena muttered bitterly.
“No,” I shook my head. “The Anti-Lion Alliance didn't act just to whittle down the numbers… or maybe they did, but that's not the point. Lex wouldn't resort to simple subtraction in this situation.”
The two who died instantly remained dead. That’s natural. It sounds harsh, but the dead do not come back to life.
However, those whose necks were bitten, those whose abdomens were pierced by claws, and those whose arms were severed—they were different.
I couldn't hear from this distance, but I imagined hearing the sounds of flesh being grotesquely reformed. Their bodies were likely being rebuilt, like werewolves under the moonlight, transforming from man-like beastmen to beast-like men.
Even from a near-death state, they could use their transformation to reconstruct their bodies once, nullifying the damage.
Nevertheless, their determination to kill their king was palpable even from this distance.
Hmm...
"So, the armor was to prevent instant death," I muttered to myself.
Some failed to fend off the attacks, but even so, they managed to wear down Randall and ready themselves for another round.
“I will kill you, Randall—!!”
A werewolf's howl echoed across the blood-soaked battlefield.
