Well... this came a little bit later than anticipated, and a lot shorter than I would have liked it, for that I am sorry. You should be able to expect another chapter by the weekend. Those of you who have stayed with me through the slow updates, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I would appreciate any comments or constructive criticisms. For those of you who are worried that Lilith is dead, GUESS WHAT?! SHE IS! But if you recall, I wrote something in the Mark of the Angaellis that you all will be happy to remember.

I would recommend listening to this song while reading.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5zZee9YYzP8

Abrum’s hand used the deeply embedded sword to pull himself up to his knees. His back hunched as he underwent his metamorphism. There were tearing sounds as he underwent this change. This was from his shirt that he was wearing ripping apart as the muscle mass in his torso, abdomen, and arms increased dramatically. The bone structure in his hand changed slightly as his hands became clawed weapons. His pants also ripped, but still retained their important function of modesty. The bone structure in his leg changed, the original bones snapped in pieces to make joints and other joints began to fuse. The end result was something that looked like a wolf’s behind legs. He began to grow fur all over his body. This fur was not white and pure like the guardians, but rather a deep, blood red. His transformation was similar to that of a werewolf’s on the night of the full moon, however, there were two differences. One: there was no moon to be seen. Two: This was no ordinary werewolf.

Abrum gritted his teeth as he underwent this metamorphism. Here’s the closest description of pain that I can describe. Imagine you are at the gym. You’ve done however many pull ups it takes to tire you out. You want to give up and drop down but your mind says no and you strain your body to do that one last pull up. As you bring your chest to that bar, you can feel those biceps tearing. It hurts a lot but once you’ve gotten to that bar, you’re heart overflows with joy (Remember that joy), but your muscles still burn like fire. Now, imagine that pain all over your body as your muscles tear and reform. Now, imagine the pain of having your leg shattered by let’s say a metal bat over and over again, and feeling some of your joints fuse like unworldly arthritis. Now imagine that pain, divide it by four then multiply by three (The in game pain meter is 75%). That pain is quite terrible right? Now remember that joy and triumph that was felt after that last pull up? Multiply that by 20. Despite all the pain that he was undergoing, he was smiling. He smiled as the muscles ripped and the bones reformed into new shapes. Now, don’t get the wrong impression, he did not enjoy the pain, but rather, relished in opportunity to right the wrongs of the wolf guardians. He kept the smile throughout the whole transformation except when his mouth started to change as well and he was no longer capable of a human smile. His canines became elongated and wickedly sharp while his other teeth also gained a keen edge. His nose and mouth elongated into a noble snout. Wolf ears sprouted from the top of his head and a tail sprouted from just above his rump and elongated into a thick long tail. After his transformation, he stood up, and gave a blood boiling roar. His puddle of blood actually seemed to boil around him.

Due to the circumstances surrounding your shape-shift, your ability has transformed from {Shape-shift: Wolf-man}  {Shape-shift: Blood Were-Wolf Variant}

Tortar POV

‘This expedition was doomed from the start…’ thought Tortar, the level 47 ranger as he readied his bow and loosed an arrow. His short brown hair flowing as his long legs carried him across the battle field. His elven ears peeked out from behind the hair as his arrows whooshed from their bow. His equipment was some of the best in the expedition, and thus he had come underestimating the circumstances. They had rushed into the clearing only expecting Horthar, the head guardian to be present, however, 10 of the guardians were present. Their over-confidence was the cause of the lack of planning and thus the dire situation they were in.

‘Noble cause they said… no way we could lose they said…’ He continually backed up as he continued to fire arrows with his comrades. He was near the back of the defensive formation around the noncombatants, but even from his vantage point, he understood the situation was hopeless. He had realized that the mages were absolutely useless from his passive ability “Hawk’s Eye” which allowed him super human vision. Even if he realized this, the mages didn’t and continued to cast their spells with desperation.

‘These idiots…’ Tortar thought spitefully as he burned through his already depleted ammunition. A “comrade” of his was swept away by the paw of one of the guardians, and as he turned, he saw one of the NPC hunters get his arm completely bitten off by a guardian.

“Tsk… Piercing Arrow” Tortar muttered as he shot an arrow at the head of the guardian. The arrow penetrated the snout but had no significant effect except gaining the wrath of the guardian. He heard a particularly terrifying howl from the direction of the front lines, but he paid it no mind.

‘Aw… crud…’ Tortar reached into his quiver to pull out another arrow, his hand met not with a wooden shaft, but empty air. He cursed himself for being so careless and endeavored to jump out of the way. He rolled to the side expecting the guardian to charge right past him, however, this was not the case. Tortar looked up curiously to see why the guardian hadn’t passed him and was met with a strange sight. The hunter still had his arm lost, however, there was something connected to that stump at the shoulder. Tendrils of dark crimson sprouted from his wound binding the murderous guardian’s legs and restricting its movements. Furthermore, there were other tendrils that were dug into the ground, anchoring the hunter and more importantly the tendrils. Tortar was surprised and pleased by the turn of events and looked to the hunter’s face to give his approval, however, the sight that greeted his eyes immediately stopped his shout of approval. The hunter’s face had two emotions on his face. One was that of pain, the pain of having the bone ripped straight from its socket and the muscle torn straight through. The other was fear. What was strange it that he did not seem to fear the wolf, but the tendrils coming from his own body. He stared at them in horror as they writhed and bound the wolf. The wolf struggled and strained against the bonds to some avail. It managed to break a few, but nearly as soon as they were broken, they reformed and continued to restrict the guardian. (I know it’s a bit late but let’s call this particular guardian: Guardian A)

A crimson mist blew in from the direction of the front line. Tortar turned his “Hawk Eyes” to the origin of the mist and his heart almost stopped dead cold. There, at the center of the clearing, far behind all the other fighting stood a crimson beast. It towered at around 7 feet tall, covered in blood red fur. In one hand was a weapon that seemed out of place in the red were-wolf’s hand. It held an elegant, but dark katana in its left hand, though it was still sheathed. Its muscles rippled as it raised its arm and made a sign with his hand. The mist that was around Guardian A began to solidify. Specifically, they congealed into numerous blades that proceeded to pierce and then enter Guardian A’s body in liquid form. The strange thing was after they entered, the wounds that they made to gain entry disappeared. Guardian A stumbled and the muscle mass started to decrease and the snout shorten until there was a short, stuffed animal-like, wolf woman that collapsed upon the ground. The other 8 guardians turned to address the threat of the red beast… no the red Wolf.

The Red Wolf bared it’s teeth and raised its hand again. The bodies of the dead and those of the wounded spouted blood tendrils that endeavored to restrain the guardians. After seeing what had become of their comrade, they hopped madly about the battlefield avoiding the tendrils. One guardian charged towards the Red Wolf but was intercepted inside of the crimson mist that surrounded him. The mist forcefully entered the mouth and nose of the foolish guardian that tried to attack him, and in a few seconds, there lay a wolf woman down on the ground twitching, completely red in the face.

The Red Wolf readied itself in a stance that was oddly like a Japanese quickdraw stance as it stood in front of the 7 guardians. The mist around him entered the scabbard of the katana and the Red Wolf crouched his legs. And then… it began.