Chapter 33: Unshackled Form

Chapter 33: Unshackled Form The man standing in front of them didn’t seem much but still...Looking at him again, Mozrael noticed something odd about his appearance. He had a lanky build and seemed to lack strength. He looked weak, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye. Looks can be deceptive, a voice echoed in her head. He approached her slowly, each step deliberate, his gaze locked on her. The sounds of battle between his counterpart and Aramith seemed distant as he ignored them. Mozrael stood firm, not flinching an inch, despite the sinister smile on his face. There was something strangely captivating about him, yet he wasn’t handsome. Instead, he seemed more like a curiosity, a puzzle that intrigued more than attracted. His hands remained in his pockets as he stopped in front of Mozrael, glanced briefly at Lia, and then fixed his bright red eyes on Mozrael. "I don’t like hurting girls," he said, his voice smooth. "Especially ones with a pretty face and a nice body. You two aren’t bad-looking. Come with me, and I’ll treat you right." He bent down, meeting her gaze. [A.N. : ̄\(°_o)/ ̄] Mozrael’s expression hardened. She stared at him with defiance, showing no sign of fear. "What’s with that stubborn look?" he taunted, reaching for her face. She swatted his hand away. "Leave us alone," Mozrael said coldly. The man chuckled darkly. "Maybe I should remind you of the position you’re in," he said, his hand rising to strike her. As his palm neared her, Mozrael swiftly ducked, shifted back, and with a swift motion, drove her leg up into his chin. His eyes widened in shock as the force of the kick sent him flying into the air. He flipped and landed several feet away, blood spilling from his mouth as he felt two weak teeth with his tongue. "Such power," he said, a smirk spreading across his face. "Now, I’m interested." He leaped toward her, licking his lips. "I’m going to make you submit! You’ll be begging soon enough!" he yelled. His palm slammed into the ground where Mozrael had stood moments before, and an invisible force crushed the earth beneath him. Mozrael quickly stepped aside, narrowly avoiding the blow. She barely had time to react before he lunged again, his hands slashing in rapid succession. Mozrael defended herself, blocking each attack. It took only a moment for her to notice the claws on his fingers and the cat ears atop his head. A Beastman, or a damned? Whichever it was, he was in his half-form, and it wasn’t pretty. It was getting harder to keep up. Wherever she moved, he was there, relentless in his assault. Suddenly, a loud boom echoed from where Aramith fought his opponent. The distraction was brief, but it was enough for the man to land a hit, raking his claws across her arm from elbow to wrist, followed by a roundhouse kick that sent her crashing to the ground. As she struggled to regain her footing, he lunged again, but she managed to roll to her feet just in time, narrowly dodging his claws that now dug into the ground with a deafening crack. "STAYYY STILL!!!" he howled, his voice full of frustration as he pursued her again. Mozrael retreated, but she was slow to react this time. His claws were almost upon her face when suddenly, blue flames erupted from her shoulders, spreading rapidly down until they enveloped her hands. The flames burned the man’s skin, and with a hiss of pain, he shoved her away, scratching at his arms where the burns marked him. The blue fire that surrounded her burned brightly on her arms, and blue lights shimmered under her eyes. Meanwhile... BOOM!!! An explosion rang out as Aramith was sent crashing to the ground. He rolled aside just as his attacker landed in the same spot. Their battle was escalating quickly. The man Aramith fought was covered in cuts but appeared unaffected, using his brute strength to overpower Aramith. Despite his massive build, the man was quick and ferocious. Aramith, wielding his black sword that emitted dark mist, looked ragged, but determination burned in his eyes. A sudden jolt of pain shot through his head, and his eyes went pitch black. He screamed in agony as giant red spikes shot from the ground, narrowly missing him. One managed to slice across his chest, but Aramith continued to dodge and retaliate. The battle became increasingly chaotic, both warriors pushing each other to the limit. Realizing he was cornered, the man bit down hard on his tongue. His muscles bulged as his body began to shift, transforming into a massive, red-furred, hulking bear, over 13 feet tall at the shoulder. He roared, charging at Aramith with renewed fury. Aramith, eyes black as night, met the beast with equal ferocity, his form a blur as he struck back. Back on Mozrael’s side, her opponent followed suit. His transformation was swift, turning into a massive red cat. The two collided in a flurry of speed and strength, their battle resembling a dance of contrasting lights—red and blue. Mozrael’s flames grew brighter as she fought, her body shimmering with energy. The lights on her face intensified, and blue scales began to form where the light had shone. Her breath quickened as she felt the fire surging in her heart. She knew she was losing, but her pride wouldn’t allow her to transform just yet. She wanted to defeat him in her current form, but it was becoming increasingly clear that her opponent was too strong. The cat lunged, but Mozrael dodged, keeping a safe distance. It hissed, and with a terrifying burst of speed, dashed toward her. This time, Mozrael didn’t retreat. Instead, she met its charge head-on, rolling into a ball of blue flame just as the jaguar’s paw slammed into her. The force of the blow sent her soaring through the air like a comet. The cat’s eyes widened in surprise, but as it watched, confusion crept in. Did she do it on purpose? The fireball swelled, shifting, reshaping. Within the inferno, Mozrael’s form grew, stretching unnaturally, her silhouette distorting, twisting. Not human. Not entirely. The fire roared in response, spiraling around her like a living thing, feeding off the change. The air convulsed. Heatwaves rolled outward in shimmering distortions, warping reality itself. Buildings cracked. Dry wood ignited on contact. Corpses, already still and silent, charred to nothing. The cat yowled, stumbling back, singed fur curling away in blackened wisps. Terror gleamed in its wide eyes. It knew—this was no ordinary flame Beneath the blaze, Mozrael’s body pulsed with light. Her veins glowed, liquid fire coursing through them, her very soul alight with power. Embers clung to her, smoldering at her skin, as if she were being rewritten by the flame itself. Her irises darkened, burning from within, their hue shifting—deepening. They were no longer merely eyes but embers, mirroring the inferno that threatened to consume the sky. She was no longer wielding fire. She was fire. The flames surged, devouring everything in their path, spiraling in a violent corona around her. And then there was a crack of thunder. A spear of lightning tore through the heavens, striking the heart of the firestorm. The world exploded in light. The flames vanished. And from the swirling smoke, a roar—deafening, raw, ancient. When the dust settled, she appeared. No longer the girl who had entered the flames. A dragon. Her form stretched over forty feet from snout to tail, her body sleek yet monstrous, every motion brimming with power. Her scales shimmered like liquid turquoise, catching the light in eerie, shifting waves. Her wings—massive, dark, traced with veins of crackling electric blue. Small, jagged spines lined the back of her neck, each tipped with an eerie luminescence, flickering like distant storm clouds. When she moved, the air hummed with energy, crackling in restless anticipation. Then, with a single, effortless motion—she launched into the sky, climbing higher The air trembled as her wings unfurled, sending a burst of wind surging through the ruins. Lightning danced along her body, sparking between her fangs, and curling around her limbs. She inhaled. And when she exhaled, the sky lit with fire. A stream of blue flames roared from her maw, incinerating the ground below, and twisting in scorching spirals. The moment her breath faded, she dove, wings folding back, her form a streak of devastation cutting through the sky. The large cat—now more of a kitten—tried to flee, but Mozrael was faster. She snatched him up before he could escape and shot into the sky. The cat was helpless in her grip, flailing helplessly like a fish, its limbs limp from the altitude and cold. Mozrael soared, climbing higher, and stopped. She stared into the cat’s fearful eyes. "I need answers from you," she growled. The cat looked at her defiantly, refusing to respond. The cat hissed and struggled, but Mozrael simply released her grip, letting it fall a few dozen feet, just enough to scare him.. The creature tried to correct its fall, but it was caught once again by Mozrael’s claws. "Will you speak now?" Mozrael asked, her voice tinged with power. It shifted back into the man, his expression one of sheer terror. In this form, a small mistake and Mozrael would accidentally crush him. "I’ll tell you everything, but please, believe me when I say I know little!" he begged. "Who sent you?" Mozrael demanded. "I can’t tell you," he replied, trembling. Mozrael’s jaws glowed with bright blue light, and she bared her fangs. The intensity of her gaze made the man shiver. "It was our boss!" he cried out, his voice cracking. Mozrael closed her jaws and waited for him to continue. "We’re mercenaries," he said, his voice low. "People hire us for jobs. This man came to us, offered us a fortune, and gave us everything we needed. He said we should capture the prince of Vermillion. I don’t know who he is, or where he’s from. All I know is he gave us a plan, and we followed it." Mozrael studied him carefully, her expression unwavering. "Tell me the name of your leader, and where he can be found" she commanded, curling her claws a little to remind him of how helpless he was. "I don’t know where he is!" The man looked horrified. "He communicates with us through these," he said, pulling out a small gemstone. That was useless. "What are you?" She demanded. "I don’t understand." He was utterly confused and scared. "Are you a Beastman or a damned?" She couldn’t tell the difference. "I’m a beastman." He answered quickly, hoping to get out of trouble. The damned were humans with the attribute that gave them the ability to turn into a beast or manifest the abilities of their innate beasts at will. Beasts they had were different, and one could never predict what beast they’ll have if they manifested the damned attribute. Beastmen on the other hand were a species. Unlike the damned, a Beastman’s normal form is with their ears and tails, sometimes with fur, or claws. Others were just like animals but with the intelligence of people. This sometimes made it difficult to differentiate between the two. They also lived in clans according to the beast form they had. Mozrael studied him for a while. "Which clan are you from?" "I don’t have any family. I’m clanless!" Mozrael didn’t say anything immediately, which frightened him more. "I swear, it’s true. I don’t belong to any clan." It wasn’t uncommon to find a clanless Beastman, but most of those were too weak. Mozrael’s eyes narrowed, she thought for a bit then realizing she wouldn’t get anything important from him, she threw him up and flung him away with a flick of her tail. He screamed as he fell, but she ignored him. Aramith was still battling his opponent. The bear roared. Aramith roared back but didn’t dodge. He didn’t weave, didn’t plan. He charged. His sword carved a line of black through the air, slashing wildly, recklessly, desperately. The bear barely had time to react before the blade sank deep into its flesh, spraying blood in thick, hot bursts. Aramith wrenched the weapon free and swung again—and again—and again. The beast howled, its massive paw crashing into Aramith’s side, claws raking deep into his ribs. Flesh tore. Bone cracked. Aramith didn’t flinch. He laughed. He screamed at the bear, eyes burning with manic intensity, purple light searing through the haze of dust. His chest bled freely, staining his torn clothes, but he didn’t slow down. Didn’t even hesitate. He just kept going, his sword carving more wounds into the bear’s thick hide. The bear staggered back, panting. It eyed him warily now. Something was wrong. Aramith should be dead. Should be faltering. Instead, his breaths came in ragged, hungry gasps, and his wounds—they were closing. Slowly, insidiously, as if the darkness within him refused to let him fall. The gashes along his ribs shrank, the blood at his lips vanishing as if devoured. The bear’s wounds, however, remained open. "What’s wrong?" Aramith growled, his voice raw with something beyond rage. He stomped forward, his blade dragging in the dirt, his breath coming in uneven bursts. "Getting tired?" The bear lunged—desperate. Claws tore into Aramith’s shoulder, biting deep. He didn’t stop. He screamed and drove his sword into its side, twisting it deep. Blood splattered across his face. Another claw came—slashing into his arm. His grip faltered, but he just swung harder. The bear roared in agony. A second later, its arm—gone. Severed at the shoulder, landing with a sickening thud on the broken ground. The beast stumbled, barely holding itself up. Aramith exhaled. His blade trembled, but he lifted it high. Darkness pooled around his feet, creeping like something alive, something eager. His grin was wild, feral. Then, with a guttural cry, he swung his sword. Tendrils quickly shot from it, grabbing the bear. The bear was hurled backward and slammed into the nearest building. The entire structure collapsed on impact, dust, and debris erupting into the sky like a dying breath. The battlefield fell silent. But Aramith wasn’t in control. His body twitched, looking for someone, something to battle. Then he saw his target, large in the sky "Just diiiiiiieeee!!!!" Aramith screamed, sounding like an animal. Aramith roared, crouching low before launching himself toward Mozrael with a burst of fury. Dark mist erupted from the ground, swirling into a violent whirlwind that cloaked his form as he charged like a living shadow. It wasn’t clear when he’d killed his opponent. Mozrael steadied herself, her expression resolute despite the turmoil within. Her body shimmered, becoming a streak of blue lightning that crackled with raw energy as she dove to meet him head-on. Their clash seemed inevitable, light against shadow, each hurtling forward like forces of nature on a collision course. From the sidelines, Lia’s trembling voice broke the chaos, barely audible over the roaring energy. A single tear slid down her cheek as fear and desperation gripped her. "Please... don’t do this... please!" she whispered, her plea swallowed by the storm brewing between them.