The crimson fox bared its fangs, a guttural growl reverberating from deep within its throat. Its body shimmered as the shadows clung to its fur like oil, drawing in the surrounding darkness. It was ascending—temporarily transcending its normal state under the cover of night.
Ren staggered backward, breath ragged, pain wracking every inch of his body. His legs threatened to give out beneath him, his half-regenerated arm twitching with nerve pain. Blood trickled down his brow, dripping into the corner of his mouth—metallic, bitter. His lungs burned. His heartbeat thundered.
And yet… he refused to fall.
The beast lunged. Its speed now was monstrous—an erratic blur that defied logic. Ren didn't even try to parry. He barely twisted his body, letting the claws rake across his ribs instead of tearing out his throat.
SLASH!
His flesh tore like paper. Blood exploded from his side, but he didn't scream. Not this time.
Instead, he reached—grabbed—the fox's fur as it passed by. The pain was searing. Every nerve was on fire. But Ren gritted his teeth and held on.
The fox thrashed, twisting and slamming its body into tree trunks to shake him off. Bones snapped—his. Bark exploded into splinters. Still, Ren clung, his blind face pressed against its mane, his breath hot and ragged against its skin.
"I'm not dying here…" he croaked. "You are…"
The beast bucked once more, slamming Ren into the ground.
He let go.
It stood above him, drooling, victorious—eyes glowing bright purple, its mouth wide open.
Ren could smell death. Not just his own. Everything stank of it—the blood-soaked earth, the wounds on his flesh, the rotting trees. He couldn't see the world, but he could feel it dying.
And then, in that moment, something inside him cracked.
Something primeval.
Something inhuman.
The fear, the pain, the helplessness… they fused into something sharper. Colder. He stopped trembling. His heart didn't just beat—it throbbed with hatred. His mind didn't think—it screamed. And from within him, pouring out like a vile mist, came a pulse of pure death intent.
It radiated in all directions—raw, overwhelming, ancient. More potent than what he radiated when he killed Friel!
The fox stopped.
Frozen.
Its tails curled inwards. Its muscles seized. Its growl died mid-throat. Those glowing purple eyes dulled with a whimper.
For the first time in its life, it feared.
Ren stood up slowly, bones crunching back into place, blood still dripping from every wound. His face was blank, unreadable. Empty. The air warped around him, thick with dread and the taste of the grave. The forest watched—every beast hidden within it going deathly silent.
His fingers curled around something rough—wood. A jagged, broken tree trunk, thick as his thigh, snapped in the earlier chaos.
He didn't hesitate.
With a blood-choked roar, Ren charged.
The fox tried to move—but its legs buckled.
THUNK!
The tree trunk rammed into the beast's side, ripping through fur, flesh, and bone, skewering the fox against a tree with a wet, horrific crunch. Blood exploded from the wound like a geyser, painting the trees crimson. The beast let out a sharp, strangled scream—half-cry, half-growl—as its body writhed, tails twitching violently.
Ren stood over it, panting heavily, eyes empty sockets behind the blood and grime. The beast twitched once… twice…
Then it went still.
He fell to his knees.
It was over.
He'd won.
He should have smiled. Laughed. Cried.
But he didn't.
Instead, his stomach growled.
Loud. Primal. Endless.
It wasn't a normal hunger. It wasn't exhaustion or thirst. It was something deep—something ancient—something not human.
His mouth watered. His body trembled—but not with fear.
With need.
A sick, violent need.
Ren's breath hitched. His fingers curled into claws. And then—
He leapt forward, eyes wide and mouth open in a feral snarl, and bit into the fox's flank.
Blood burst into his mouth—hot, thick, iron-sweet.
He tore flesh from the beast's side like a starving wolf, stuffing it down his throat in desperate gulps. Muscle, sinew, fur—it didn't matter. He clawed at the corpse with frenzied hands, opening its belly, feasting on its organs like a starving beast.
The fox wasn't dead.
It screamed—a pitiful, broken sound that echoed through the forest.
Ren didn't stop.
He bit again. And again. And again.
He devoured it alive.
There was no thought. No hesitation. Just hunger. Blood smeared his face, soaked his chest, coated his mouth. His jaw hurt from the force of his bite. His throat burned from swallowing too much, too fast. But he didn't stop.
He couldn't.
He wouldn't.
He wasn't a man anymore. Not in that moment.
He was something else.
Something that even the forest feared.
[Requirements Met!]
[Path of the BEAST Initialized!]
That was the last bit of clarification he got before he lost his senses once and for all.