[REND] 20.5 - Big Bad Wolf to the Rescue

Try harder! I hadn’t even done that hysterical strength stuff I had trained for. Since my furry self had way faster regeneration than my cute Erind body, a battle of attrition was the way to go. I slashed the back of Mr. Ogre’s left leg as hard as I could, not thinking about breaking my bones or shattering my claws.

I finally penetrated the skin!

But it was as the cost of a couple of fingers bending backward and a claw that broke off, remaining lodged in Mr. Ogre’s sinewy gray flesh. I didn’t let up the attack, peeling back the thick hide until greenish blood flowed. In response, Mr. Ogre swung its arms around with astonishing speed for its size. The low kicks and the stamps were my main concern.

But I could evade them with a hairsbreadth margin. I couldn’t explain it, but I had more focus, better reaction time, and a sort of fighting instinct. 

Mr. Ogre roared in frustration. It couldn’t get me while I danced around, attacking with all my might and more, ignoring the pain from my broken hands. I couldn’t do much shit to it. Just superficial injuries. Stalemate.

Or, not really.

My busted arms were healing, but Mr. Ogre’s exposed flesh regenerated faster. And I dealt more damage to myself than I was causing. Mr. Ogre was too fucking tough, and I was losing the battle of attrition! My Erind brain wanted to bail, but my predator brain wished to continue fighting.

Once again, the whirring noise started. Mr. Ogre groaned as it started to fire. Bullets tore up the ground around us. I was too close for Mr. Ogre to shoot at me, though the shards of the floor flew everywhere. I had to stick to Mr. Ogre to avoid getting turned into Swiss Cheese. Nothing I could do right now. Just buying time to think while getting stronger.

Mr. Ogre’s tough skin was the worst matchup for me. Was this its superpower? How long would it take me to transform to a point where I could shred this fucker?  

And where did Myra run off to? I couldn’t sense her presence. Did she rejoin Deen and the hero wannabes, leaving me behind because I was an Adumbrae? That bitch! Bah, I didn’t need her. A hassle to coordinate fighting with someone else anyway. In movies, the bad guys fighting the protagonist one by one was actually realistic.

I was bringing this gigantic uglyass down for daring to hurt me! No prey was too big!

Mr. Ogre pointed his gun downward.

Huh? I stopped mid-slash with my floppy arm. Why was it aiming at—?

BOOM! BOOM!

I was thrown several feet by the explosion, along with rocks and dust. I curled up before hitting the ground and rolled away. That bastard Mr. Ogre couldn’t catch or shoot me, so it blew up the floor to shoo me away. I picked myself up as gunfire roared, slinking between containers, trying to find a way to get close to Mr. Ogre again.

Damage report. A few gashes caused by debris and shrapnel. My skin was already mending itself. My messed-up arms were nearly done healing, too. I was covered in blood—Mr. Ogre’s and mine. It was mostly Mr. Ogre’s green blood that matted my hair. And wow, my hair had grown wild.

Pangs of hunger plagued me as I ran, an incessant gnawing in my innards. Hunger was overtaking anger. My mouth salivated at the thought of munching on Mr. Ogre. The slight wiggle of thought that was my Erind self protested that it wasn’t appetizing in the slightest.  

The gunfire had stopped. Crashing footsteps rushed toward me.

I ducked as the upper half of the shipping container to my right got shorn off. There was that stupid whirring, and Mr. Ogre moaned in pain. I attempted to jump on Mr. Ogre, but the swing of the other gun mace kept me away. And so, I ran as Mr. Ogre fired. Some bullets drilled into my back.

I dropped down to let the path of the gunfire continue forward. Then I rolled left and circled. I felt my back muscles spitting out massive pellets as they regenerated.

Why was I getting hit? Aren’t machine guns terribly inaccurate? The action movies I’ve watched lied! Mr. Ogre’s strength must be keeping its guns’ aim steady. Not only that, this turd mountain, as Myra called it, should also have pretty good eyesight to—

The eyes! There was no way its eyes were as tough as its skin and flesh.

I had a plan as I pivoted to face Mr. Ogre around fifteen feet behind me.  

It had stopped shooting when it saw me standing my ground. Its mournful bawls were replaced with a battle roar. Both gun-maces held high, it charged into the narrow path like an out-of-control snowplow, shoving aside anything in its path.

I howled in response, crouching down. Wait for it.

The muscles of my legs coiled, ready to release at a moment’s notice.

Ten feet. Five.

Now!

I launched myself towards Mr. Ogre, twisting myself in the air, drawing from muscle memory from my days as a cheerleader. I slipped through the gap between the mighty gun-maces.

I latched my claws onto the sides of Mr. Ogre’s head to stop myself from overshooting. I wrapped my legs around its thick neck to lock myself in place on the side of its head.

Let’s see how you like this! I stabbed claws into its left eye. Murky gunk erupted from the squishy ball. Not so tough now, huh? I furiously dug around the eye socket like a blender making a milkshake.   

Mr. Ogre roared in pain and shook its head. But I wouldn’t allow this bastard to throw me off!

With my left hand securing my position like a grappling hook, I grabbed a fistful of an eyeball. I greedily shoved the mush into my mouth before I could process how disgusting it was. Slimy, with a bit of chew. It didn’t taste much, but my wolfy monster brain celebrated finally eating part of my prey. Hurray!

I thrust my claws back into Mr. Ogre’s skull to scoop for more fleshy goodies. Nothing could satisfy my cravings.

As I gorged on Mr. Ogre’s eyeballs, which kept on regenerating, I could feel my strength exponentially grow. Not just a feeling. My own body was actually growing!

My hoodie had turned into a deep crimson coat of fur that merged with my untamed hair of red and gold. In just a couple of seconds, I now looked like a lion with an angry mane. The rest of my clothes had also turned to fur. Muscles enlarged, my limbs extended, like a child’s growth spurt compressed in seconds.

Strength! Power! Pain?

There was no pain.

I started eating Mr. Ogre’s right eye as the world around me became a blur because of too much shaking.

Spikes stabbed into my flank. Mr. Ogre was trying to pry me from its head with its gun mace. I held fast to the sides of the eye socket. Continue eating! But Mr. Ogre furiously swiped the side of its head and swatted me down.

Pieces of bone were in my fists. I was no longer attached to anything. Then I hit the ground. I rolled out of the gun-mace’s trajectory just in time.

WHAAM!

As I pushed myself up, I found some delectable stuff on my hands. Slivers of flesh, blood, and bone. I licked them off like a hungry dog. More. I needed more!

The blind Mr. Ogre heard the sound of my frantic slobbering. Down came the gun-mace on me.

I dodged it and jumped on the arm, swiftly climbing back to Mr. Ogre’s head. Round two, big guy! I wasn’t letting you regenerate your eyes. And I was much bigger than before. With powerful kicks, the claws of my feet embedded into Mr. Ogre’s metal body armor. I targeted the eyes again, even as Mr. Ogre tried to turn away.  

My entire body rattled as a massive pointy object slammed onto my back. What was that? The gun-mace? Not food. Just eat food. Eat.

BAM! BAM! WHAM!

My back hurts. Ignore the pain. Everything other than eating my prey was of no consequence. My stomach needed to be filled. Hunger had a firm grip on my mind.

Mr. Ogre hammered me with its gun-mace. My body shuddered after each impact. Spikes broke against the flesh of my back, but couldn’t wound me. I held on and continued with my meal, scooping out Mr. Ogre’s eyes as they regenerated. I shrugged off the impacts as I grew bigger and stronger.

The blows stopped. Mr. Ogre got too disoriented due to clubbing itself too much, though I was between the mace and its head. It tried to close its eyelids, but it was easy to pry them open. I reached deep into the eye sockets and reached the back.

Wasn’t the brain here as well? Past this bone? More food! This was also the way to kill Mr. Ogre—yeah, that should’ve been my first thought. I furiously punched into its eye sockets.

With a pained cry, Mr. Ogre resumed bludgeoning me with its gun-maces; it used both this time, alternating them. Mr. Ogre became desperate, even as it wobbled from the impacts. It must’ve sensed I was trying to get at its brain. When hammering didn’t work, it aimed its right gun-mace at the side of my face.

How dare you ruin my meal! I clamped my wide jaws on the barrel as it fired.

A powerful force expanded in my mouth. Bullets ricocheted around my teeth, sending concussions up my skull. Other bullets went through the left side of my face, boring holes through my cheeks and jaw muscles.

BITE DOWN!

BOOM! The gun exploded when I clamped the barrel shut with the force of my bite.

Everything rattled! I was seeing several copies of the world as my cheeks expanded, but didn’t tear. White noise filled my ears, and my brain was barely able to think as it sloshed around my skull. In a split second of momentary clarity, I realized that a gun-mace was out of commission. I should destroy the other one too, so it wouldn’t bother my meal!

Pulling my hands out of Mr. Ogre’s eye sockets, I attacked its arm, tearing away the spiky and chunky metal contraption. I bit off bolts that secured the gun-mace to its flesh, despite Mr. Ogre slamming me against the ground. Howling in triumph, I pulled the gun-mace from the end of Mr. Ogre’s arm. It was filled with unfamiliar mechanisms.

Assorted gears and cylinders, complicated wiring, and canisters of odd-smelling liquid. No bullets? And how did it fire the cannon? Then I noticed that Mr. Ogre’s arm, where the gun-mace used to be attached, was actually a stump. It profusely bled and gave off a sweet scent mixed with that chemical whatever. Must be how they kept the wound open.  

I didn’t know what was going on. A small part of me wondered if Mr. Ogre was shooting parts of himself. Whatever. The important thing was that Mr. Ogre had a wound kept open by the chemical.

Food like a peeled banana!

Delight filled my heart as I eyed the meaty flesh unprotected by the annoying skin. I bit on the arm and pulled Mr. Ogre down to the floor, like a lion taking down a buffalo. It struggled against me, but just like a lion, I didn’t let go of my prey. I chomped and chewed its exposed flesh as it thrashed around. Its throaty cries reverberated through the warehouse.  

Mr. Ogre punched me with the broken gun-mace that had exploded. Warped metal parts hit my face.

It might as well been gentle taps. I was numb to pain. All I wanted was to eat. Thoughts of food shoved coherence out of my mind. I swallowed flesh. I grew bigger.

Again and again and again. Really, really big.

I was catching up to the size of my prey.

Or was my prey getting smaller?

Duh, I was eating Mr. Ogre. Of course, it would get smaller. Before, I had no choice but to run from my prey. How shameful. It was so strong it could squish me. My claws and fangs couldn’t do anything.

Now, I didn’t care for its blows. It couldn’t escape my grip. My fangs penetrated its skin. With a forceful jerk of my neck muscles, I tore open its skin. Then I ate the regenerating flesh beneath.

I started to chuckle, snorting with my snout as I chewed. This was infinite meat!

My prey has finally given up struggling. Probably because its head was between my jaws instead of attached to its neck. I crunched the head and swallowed it. My hunger was sated. Calmness returned to my brain.

Who am I…?

I couldn’t answer the question. Did the answer really matter? All I knew was that I was strong. Big. No one could beat me. Everything was food. My food.  

“Hey, you! Look over here.”

“Merge, be careful. Don’t anger her. She’s no longer in control of herself.”

“Just stay over there, okay? Emcee, don’t let her come near. I know what the hell I’m doing.”

Voices. Puny voices. Should I know them?

I shouldn’t. They were weak.

But they were noisy.

“Giant werewolf!” shouted the first voice. “Come over here!” The creature was large. Smaller than this prey I was eating. Still large. But inedible. Mostly stone. Metal. Something was inside all that. Alive. Food. Too small.

She threw something at me. Bounced off my head. Didn’t hurt.

But maybe I should eat it. Or just shoo it. Weak shouldn’t bother strong.

Unless they want to be eaten.  

“Tell Blanchette there’s food!” It was the second voice that spoke. “Food and strong prey.”

Food and strong prey? I’d like that.

“Hear that? If you follow me, I’ll lead you to food! Come, come!”

“Don’t treat her like a dog,” said a male voice somewhere further away.

“Strong prey, you hear that? You’d like to eat strong prey, right? I’ll sic you on fuckers who deserve to die. Just follow me!”

I stood up and left behind the half-eaten corpse of my prey. I shoved aside crates with my massive hands covered in fur and walked with footsteps that shook the ground. I followed the weird stone person as it led me to a wall of pink. On the other side, I could sense many prey.

Many, many. The wall was in my way.

(Author's Notes: That's the bloodiest and most action-packed battle we've had so far. Parts of it were taken from the previous version of REND and heavily edited.  I didn't have much experience writing back then. Sometimes, editing takes more time than actual writing. But I'm glad that we have this fight again because I really like it. We now see the werewolf form. We'll have Deen's POV chapter for Wednesday. What will they do with Erind, who had lost control?

Also, for those who haven't seen it yet, Smite Happens, our new story, has begun. We'll probably have a couple more chapters of Smite this week, depending on my free time.)