Revenge (2)
“Is that all you have for last words?”
“You little pebble of a runt, how dare you...!”
Crack.
“Gaaah!”
The scream tore from Wolf's throat just as his right knee exploded in a spray of blood and bone. Tiny had charged the moment the words left his mouth.
In that instant of agonized howling echoing through the room, Tiny's small hand seized Wolf's left ankle and crushed it to pulp.
Crunch.
“Guh...!”
Before the second cry could fade, Tiny swung Wolf's massive body in a wide arc, slamming him into the stone floor.
Boom!
“...Guh, grrk.”
The deafening screams cut off into low groans, and soon he was convulsing on the ground, foaming at the mouth.
Watching this, Tiny tilted his head in mild surprise.
That easy?
Was it because he'd grown so much stronger than in his past life? But ending it this pathetically wouldn't slake his rage.
Releasing the mangled ankle, Tiny strode over and backhanded the groaning thug across the face.
Smack!
“Gack!”
With a sharp crack, light flickered back into those dazed blue eyes that had nearly rolled back in his skull.
Staring down at him, Tiny flashed a savage grin.
“Get up. That's not all you've got, right? Time to transform.”
Wolf's eyes, which had just regained focus, trembled violently at the words.
To clean up Wolf's gang, there were three hurdles. He'd cleared two—now only the last remained: the boss himself, Wolf.
The man was a werewolf, one of the beastkin races. Tiny hadn't learned this until facing him directly in his past life.
That explained the alias. He'd fully understood only after seeing the transformed form.
His last shred of pride, maybe?
Beastkin could take animal, humanoid, or hybrid Cross-form shapes. Physically, they topped all other non-human races.
They took immense pride in their lineage, rarely hiding it even in foreign lands.
But the Aslan Empire, which ruled this remote Philes territory, had been at odds with the Werebeast Kingdom—homeland to most beastkin—for centuries. The one place where beastkin had to conceal their identity.
“A beastkin pimping in a backwater Aslan barony. If word got out, you wouldn't die easy.”
With a sneer, Tiny ground down harder on Wolf's hand.
Crunch.
“Gaaaaah!”
The fingers snapped like dry twigs beneath his foot, and Wolf's eyes flushed blood-red. Bones cracked and reshaped throughout his body—even the pulverized legs regenerated in an unbelievable sight.
Tiny smiled in satisfaction.
Yes, thrash with everything you've got.
This was to draw out all his power, then shatter it utterly. To plant utter despair before killing him.
Not complacency. He'd slain this foe once before; no way he'd lose now that he was stronger.
But...
“Grrrk, grrr.”
Something was off with the transformation. In his past life, Wolf had become a towering silver werewolf over two meters tall.
Am I misremembering?
The beast's eyes had lost all reason, fine—but instead of growing larger, his frame stayed the same size, just hunched over, making him seem smaller. And not silver fur, but patchy dark red... like no wolf at all.
“...More like a mangy dog?”
He wasn't mocking; it truly resembled a sick stray.
“Raaargh!”
Stung by the offhand mutter, the beast lunged with crimson eyes flashing, faster than the twin brothers who'd blocked the door. His claws, sharp as daggers, gleamed with lethal promise to shred human flesh.
But...
Movements too predictable.
Whoosh!
Tiny sidestepped effortlessly, the claws slicing empty air. His small, agile body danced away with perfect footwork.
“Kyaaak!”
Slash slash slash.
The werewolf flailed wildly at nothing.
“Over here, idiot.”
Thwack.
“Yelp!! Raaang!”
A kick to the rear sent him scrambling back on target—like a mindless animal.
“Pathetic...”
Crunch.
This wasn't what he'd hoped for. Tiny ground his teeth; he wanted better than this sorry sight. And too many anomalies.
Did the pre-transformation damage weaken him too much? No, that doesn't turn a werewolf into a shedding mutt. Fur color's wrong too.
In his past life, Wolf's form had been a proper silver werewolf—pure, regal. Werewolves, or lycanthropes, were elite even among Werebeast Kingdom beastkin, tied to legends as their progenitors and favored by the royal bloodline.
That's why the revelation had shocked him: a slum pimp as royal beastkin? An unsolved mystery from his past life—and now, even more baffling.
Whatever. Can't leave it like this.
Killing a mindless beast would be too merciful.
“Time to snap you awake.”
Words from a past-life comrade, the Knight of Moonlight, Silver Fang, surfaced in his mind. Whether Wolf counted as “young kin” or not—
“Spare the rod, spoil the child.”
Grind.
Tiny darted past the flailing arms into the beast's guard.
Thud!
His short leg rocketed up into the werewolf's groin.
“Kyaa... ahh...”
Thump.
The foaming beast collapsed. Combat ability gone, but the form held.
Then...
“Beastkin regenerate well, right? Don't die on me.”
Crunch.
Tiny's tiny hand pulverized the other ankle.
Bang. Boom! Bang!
How many more beatings followed? Wolf's body was half-smashed, yet the form persisted.
Just as puzzlement set in—
Clink. Roll roll.
A glowing stone tumbled from Wolf's chest. Silvery with a faint dark red aura, rough-textured. Unordinary.
“...?”
Tiny stared briefly—then the fur receded, the muzzle shrank, reverting to the gray-haired man.
“Back to normal, good.”
“Grrk, grrr...”
Blood trickled from ruined bones—ankles to pelvis to ribs. No reason returned.
Perfect. Tiny grinned darkly.
“Won't let you off easy this time, trash.”
His gaze shifted to a painting on the wall.
Bang.
A casual kick crumbled it, revealing a massive safe bigger than a grown man. Seamless metal. Tiny scoffed, dragged Wolf over, and pressed his hand to it.
Hummm. Grind.
It opened with a hum.
Ignoring piles of silver, gold, jewels, Tiny snatched blue leaves from a corner.
Awakening drug: Gello leaves.
His hand trembled faintly holding them. Wolf had force-fed these to dying girls and kids, wringing out their last moments.
“...Your turn now.”
He crammed leaves into Wolf's mouth, poured vase water down his throat.
“Grrk, glurk.”
Not swallowing? Tiny forced it with mana, prying open the esophagus.
Soon, faint groans—eyes opened.
“Glad you're lucid.”
Tiny's first genuine smile since meeting him.
“Y-you... ugh, uuu...”
“That happy? Me too.”
Crunch.
Thus began the long night of flesh tearing from bone, packed with past-life grudges.
“E-Erina... grk, ma'am, I was wrong...”
Tiny shook blood from his hands, face impassive, before the barely-alive wreck.
Not a torture expert, but past-life experience dismantling countless humans and monsters gave him the knack. Thoroughly this time.
“E...rina ma'am. I, truly, was, wrong...”
Wolf's repeated apologies to the dead sister. Hollow from terror, but who cared.
“I, truly wrong...”
Thought of decapitating for her grave—but no, she wouldn't want this monster's face even in death.
Sis, I hope this brings some comfort.
Gazing at the ceiling like heaven, Tiny crossed himself and turned from the shuddering wretch.
Mercy would be ending it quick.
He deserved agony to his last breath.
As he headed for the door, a glinting stone caught his eye—silver mingled with dark red, vivid in the unlit night.
Never saw it in his past-life kill.
Moreover...
Sounds familiar...
A vague memory of tales about such oddly glowing stones.
And the transformation ended only after it fell out. Coincidence? Or...
Something I don't know?
He picked it up slowly—then a foreign image flashed in his mind, a savage roar echoing.
“...What the?”
Even the soul of a fearless superhuman knight jolted at the bizarre scene. And that ominous red aura...
...Demonic energy.
The foul power unique to worldly monsters, spirit beasts, and denizens of the demon realm. Yet pure mana emanated from within too.
What the hell...? Ah!
Puzzlement fled as the image triggered a memory.
Silver wolf trapped in demonic chains. Mana from within the prisoner? What could be sealed in the stone...
Animals or plants amassing excessive mana, crystallizing their essence or soul...
“Ah...!?”
“Extremely rare. Essences or manifested souls from ancient beasts or plants that hoarded mana beyond limits. Or in other words...”
“...Spirit stone.”
He blurted it out, then laughed in disbelief. Why would such a treasure be in Wolf's pocket? Spirit stones didn't mix with demonic energy.
But if those dark red chains were demonic—as the image showed—he could break them.
Hummm.
Begone.
The frail chains shattered against his mana.
In that instant—
Awoooooooo!
A wolf's howl rang through his mind. A massive translucent wolf materialized before him.
And—
Grrrrr.
It bared ferocious hostility toward the dying Wolf.