In a general sense, surviving in a desert for any species will always require nourishment in two forms. The first is a stable food supply, and the other is a stable water supply. One of those two I had been able to figure out from speaking to Nighmora.
Apparently, the dungeon generates water from a deep underground spring that flows upward through an internal rock structure. What I learned is that those boulder-like structures sitting atop the sand are not actually on top of the sand. They extend a dozen miles downward into the interiors of the dungeon. The dungeon then flows water through the rock pillar and into a hollow chamber.
That chamber is where Nighmora lives. Every other [Queen] lives in similar locations. Hence, why me and my army are right outside a rocky canyon with the entrance in front of us.
“Commander, what are your orders?” asks Thorous. She gazes at me expectantly, knowing that I have a plan all figured out.
Which I do, to an extent. I could easily send in my new seven hundred undead army and then repeatedly cast [Corpse Explosion] until everything within is dead.
Unfortunately, I need the bodies intact enough to be able to resurrect them into undead so I can take them back to Shinypuke.
I look around quickly and find Aldonis with his arms crossed and a deadly glare directed towards Peter as he sits snugly on Mule’s shoulder.
“Aldonis, come here for a sec.”
He looks at me, nods, and makes his way.
“Did you need something?”
“Yes. You’ve fought a [Queen] before. How strong are they?”
His tail flicks out in agitation, “When I fought the [Queen] that took Nighmora, I was many levels lower and much weaker than I am now. The [Queen] was sturdier and larger than the ones it creates, which made it difficult to injure. Now though, I would have a much easier time and I think I could fight it alone.”
“Needless risk. So the [Queen] was sturdier and larger only?”
He quickly shakes his head, “Those were just a nuisance. The real problem was its ability to heal. Fresh wounds would close quickly and it never bled. It took a very long while before we were truly able to kill it.”
Yeah, I was afraid of that. Nighmora healed herself almost instantly when she consumed a corpse. That kind of healing will make a very slow battle unless I outright destroy it or find out where the damn thing's brain is.
“If it has a brain… shit.”
“Hmm?”
“Nothing, it’s just that this will be a long and grueling battle. I need the [Queen’s] body intact enough for me to turn it into an undead, but that regeneration will make the whole process difficult.”
My elites look at me, expectantly. Even Aldonis seems to be waiting.
This whole thing would be so much easier if I had bones to work with. I could devise so many ways to kill without destroying. Unfortunately, it looks like a bit of luck will need to be involved.
“Alright. This final fight will be a bit of a long doozy. Aldonis, you’re going to be in charge of distracting the [Queen]. Cut off limbs and such, but avoid the main body. We’re going to need to bleed it to death. While you distract, we will quickly wipe away the minions.”
I sigh and shake my head, dearly hoping that the fight doesn't take too long.
“Alright, get into position. I’ll have my undead swarm inside first. Orlan, you’re going to stay outside and take out any threats that show up. I’ll leave some of my undead and Peter to bolster your defense.”
The group disperses and takes position. The battle then commences.
__________________________________________________________________
The [Queen] senses the invaders coming to her nest. Her feelers flicker in agitation as she commands her army to hold. Within her home, several thousand minions await her command. Each is as deadly and dangerous as the other. Their spikes are ready to impale whatever dares come within her lair.
She shuffles slightly, her spikes screeching on the stone ceiling and floor. Her body is large and extremely powerful. Her chitin is several inches thick. Her spikes are sharp enough to impale steel with ease.
Regardless, she fears for her life. What comes is far more dangerous than anything before. An army of bipedal creatures that fight and kill with an unimaginable efficiency. So far, all her attacks had failed to even slay one.
A thought passes through her limited mind. She thinks that maybe she should have fought smarter.
The thought disappears as quickly as it comes. Her enhanced hearing informs her that they are approaching the heart of her lair.
A moment passes and then they arrive. Her former minions, they swarm into her lair. With a mental nudge, her own army moves to meet them. They start to attack the invaders, seemingly winning initially, but the bipedal creatures enter soon after. They spread out, joining the attack, but like before, they always retreat when injured.
Opening her mandibles, she screeches and then attempts to move. The rock around her screeches in response, stone structure breaking as she attempts to confront the issue, but she ultimately fails as more of her spikes penetrate into stone.
She screeches again in rage, but she cannot break free. Her size is much too large. Regardless, she continues to struggle, slowly but surely breaking out of her self-created restraints.
“[Flickering Sword].”
A red dash passes her vision, followed with pain as her spikes are severed. Green blood begins to flow from the open wounds. The ichor strikes the floor, hissing as the acid within the liquid does its deadly work on the stone. The stone, of which, begins to melt.
Within an instant, she concentrates and her acidic fluids coagulate around the wounds. In another moment, the spikes begin to quickly grow back.
She witnesses a flicker, followed by a dozen more of her spikes being severed. She shrieks in pain before looking for the cause.
Her eyes land on an indistinct red blur. The body is hazy, seemingly unfocused. She raises one of her six sharp pincers and slashes forward. Her claw gouges through the smooth rock floor.
And once again, pain begins to spread across her body as spikes are severed.
She screeches again, finding the red smudge. She raises all six of her arms and begins to move. The ground breaks with each swipe, but the red thing continues to dodge, somehow continuing to find a way to injure her.
As her movements begin to speed up and her eyes begin to adjust to the high speed motion, her ears perk up.
___________________________________________________________
“[Arcane Instrument: Concert Grand Piano].”
My mana hums as the battle rages around me. It costs significantly less the second time as the piano materialises. This time though, I also create an indentation that swerves upwards to a chair.
I flourish my robe and walk to my creation. The purple construct is waiting for me without a blemish. Its crystal-like structure is glinting from the inner cavern crystal light. I sit down on the stool, my hands gliding slowly on the keys, relishing at the feel. Memories of my mother's own piano surface to my thoughts. The gold-encrusted one had been slightly smaller, but still just as amazing. She had used it when she was younger and was an exceptional pianist. It was a time before I was ever born, a time before she had entered the porn industry.
I flex my hands and crack my fingers, my thoughts trailing to my childhood. The songs I was taught not by my tutor, but my own mother. I breathe slowly and remember those days with vivid detail.
“[Loud Voice], [Harmony of Movement], [Hymn of Power],” I activate several skills and then begin.
The keys react to my touch, creating a swell of sound that sweeps through the chamber. Emotion is the tool that [Bards] wield, and it is that tool I must now utilize.
I began to play Sealed Vessel and allow my experience to take over...
A single high note, followed by a lower one.
The tune, not yet reaching a full pickup, lulls even further, each sound dragging behind it a heavy burden.
And then, as if carried by hurried steps, it slowly starts to pick up. Tiny tones resonate one after another almost immediately, flurried along in a harsh whisper.
Louder, and louder, and louder, and LOUDER AND-
Silence.
…
Two hands move separately, almost as if two different wills, two different roles, two entirely different people, one who scampers and one who follows in deep strides. Strides that completely overpower the echos from the other.
The endless chase quickens, intensifies. Sweat, fear, and adrenaline pervade, and yet it seemed almost as if the music taunted the escaping one, lulling it with its ever insistint melody.
A change in the beat.
The strides, the toying strides, are strides no longer. Dashes to match the dashes of the other, the distance never made smaller nor larger. The notes toll for the one of which is weak, and the pursuer is the answer, the reply. It is a chase one can never leave, one that follows not for everyone, but for that one specific individual, more unavoidable than fate.
The footsteps, so previously quick, begin to slow, just as do the fingers. The keys hold a truth that can not be spoken with words or thoughts, and more concrete than actions could ever imply.
The closer the other becomes, the more space between them is made. The rhythm moves from fast to a slog and once more shifts to a desperate run. A silence that holds more mockery than any could ever voice. It is simply there.
One can only have so many second winds.
Shoes against cobble. Boots against soil. Bare feet against open road.
Finality, futility, both lurk within the rush of skin meeting ivory. One moment, the struggles proceed.
Then all is quiet.
…
A similar tune begins. Just as one from what seemed like so long ago.
Two hands move separately, almost as if two different wills, two different roles, two entirely different people, one who scampers and one who follows in deep strides. Strides that completely overpower the echoes from the other. Only, the scamper is no longer a scamper, but a stride that mimics a stride, a forgery. Each a perfect match for the other, an anticipation from a calm.
No matter how the second one moves, the first maintains their sturdy pace forward, no matter how shallow it may seem in comparison. By being the background it makes itself the centerpiece, the main highlight, the attraction.
It portrays a bravery that comes from one who has seen trials, who has endured many chases, and is unwilling to fall victim to another. If the world were to end the steps wouldn’t falter.
Memories. Times of so long ago.
It replays in that one’s mind, of when they used to scamper, and were chased with long strides. When the prey accepted their role as prey, and was but bait before the other.
The air, the sounds, the mocking silence, it all brings within them a burning crescendo. It coalesces into a thing that would scald off hairs, and yet not be entirely unpleasant as it got louder. And louder, and it a volume that would humble the mountains AND-
Silence. Not mockery, but true.
A quiet stride. It could be a sad one, a determined one, a lost one, but none could deny the single fact.
The fact that it was a quiet one, and it seemed almost as if the hunter no longer cared about the hunt. They stopped and looked at the one thought prey and looked in awe at such a simple yet humble walk. An invisible luggage carried with every step.
And, within a breath, they tried to mimic the person, to follow in the long footsteps.
Without knowing the weight and burden they carried, without knowing the hardships to get there, they followed. A stumble, a fall, but a forward pace.
And, in unison, they took a final step.
| Artistic Talent: [Dexterity Enhancement], [Strength Increasement], [Passive: Minor Regeneration]
While music continues, increase dexterity and strength by 25%. Allies obtain the [Minor Regeneration] passive ability.
Bonus [Harmony of Movement]: Increase dexterity by 20%
Bonus [Hymn of power]: Increase Strength and dexterity by 20% |
| [Minor Regeneration] Temporary ability obtained.
Increase natural body regeneration by 5000%. |
**********************************************
“[Dominating Gaze].”
Nighmora looks on curiously as a slight pressure wafts over the connection she has established with her Myrmeke. Her control wavers slightly and only for the briefest of moments before coming back to normal.
“That is interesting, Alba. I did feel you attempt to take the connection from me. This taming skill of yours, does it allow you to create a similar connection as me?”
Alba shakes her head with a frown. “Not exactly. My skill allows me to attempt to befriend and later manipulate monsters and beasts.”
“But not fully control, is that right?”
Alba nods, her gaze moving around Nighmora’s chambers and the monsters displayed before her.
“Not exactly. I’m sure there is a skill that would let me fully control my beasts, but my level is too low. I haven’t been leveling at all. There is nothing for me to actually tame other than Fang here.” she says, taking a moment to pet her extremely dangerous kitty.
“I see. That is indeed a difficult problem. This floor does indeed have monsters not controlled by [Queens], but they do not last long. I have yet to figure out where they are coming from.”
Alba folds her arms and sighs.
“It’s hard. I want to be useful, but so far I haven’t been able to do anything. I’m a [Beastmistress], that should allow me to control monsters.”
She sighs again.
“Hmmm, it is clear that you are in a state of mental instability. I unfortunately lack any way to assist you. I could possibly create a poison that can temporarily assist you, but that will take time and experimentation.”
Alba shakes her head. “I dont need drugs. It's just so difficult, being useless and all. I want to be strong and powerful. To have an army like you do…”
“I see…” she stops and begins thinking. Her weakness when compared to other [Queens] is her smaller body. Size dictates how many monsters she can control and how far she can control them. In a sense, she is weaker than a regular [Queen].
“Then, let us try something.”
With a mental command, she severs the mental connection with one of the Myrmeke. Its body falls to the floor, unmoving. It is still alive, but nothing else.
“Try your skill again, on that one,” Nighmora says.
“Um… hmmm… [Dominating Gaze].”
The monster springs to life as a headache rams into Alba’s noggin. She can feel the monster’s body, smell what it smells, see what it sees.
She begins to puke as the connection breaks. The monster falls back onto the stone floor.
“Ughhh, that felt horrible,” she says before puking some more.
***************************************************
“It seems I will need to speak with Aldonis about this.”
Monsters get crushed and dismembered as the ground shakes with each and every movement.
“His anger may very well get him killed. This is very not normal.”
Green blood pours into the sand in an enormous volume. The sand burns and creates smoke which does nothing to the one who had caused this.
“I feel a bit useless. Maybe I should go inside to help,” Orlan frowns.
*RRRROOOOOAAAAAARRRRRR*
Peter yells with such force that the sand trembles. His leg slams down, impaling a monster's body in a moment.
He stands over the destruction he had caused. His black fur bristles with diamond-like hardness. His size now exceeds the former Berosus by threefold. His evolution had only just begun as he leans down and begins crunching through an exoskeleton with ease, the acidic blood is nothing compared to his now far deadlier form.
In a general sense, surviving in a desert for any species will always require nourishment in two forms. The first is a stable food supply, and the other is a stable water supply. One of those two I had been able to figure out from speaking to Nighmora.
Apparently, the dungeon generates water from a deep underground spring that flows upward through an internal rock structure. What I learned is that those boulder-like structures sitting atop the sand are not actually on top of the sand. They extend a dozen miles downward into the interiors of the dungeon. The dungeon then flows water through the rock pillar and into a hollow chamber.
That chamber is where Nighmora lives. Every other [Queen] lives in similar locations. Hence, why me and my army are right outside a rocky canyon with the entrance in front of us.
“Commander, what are your orders?” asks Thorous. She gazes at me expectantly, knowing that I have a plan all figured out.
Which I do, to an extent. I could easily send in my new seven hundred undead army and then repeatedly cast [Corpse Explosion] until everything within is dead.
Unfortunately, I need the bodies intact enough to be able to resurrect them into undead so I can take them back to Shinypuke.
I look around quickly and find Aldonis with his arms crossed and a deadly glare directed towards Peter as he sits snugly on Mule’s shoulder.
“Aldonis, come here for a sec.”
He looks at me, nods, and makes his way.
“Did you need something?”
“Yes. You’ve fought a [Queen] before. How strong are they?”
His tail flicks out in agitation, “When I fought the [Queen] that took Nighmora, I was many levels lower and much weaker than I am now. The [Queen] was sturdier and larger than the ones it creates, which made it difficult to injure. Now though, I would have a much easier time and I think I could fight it alone.”
“Needless risk. So the [Queen] was sturdier and larger only?”
He quickly shakes his head, “Those were just a nuisance. The real problem was its ability to heal. Fresh wounds would close quickly and it never bled. It took a very long while before we were truly able to kill it.”
Yeah, I was afraid of that. Nighmora healed herself almost instantly when she consumed a corpse. That kind of healing will make a very slow battle unless I outright destroy it or find out where the damn thing's brain is.
“If it has a brain… shit.”
“Hmm?”
“Nothing, it’s just that this will be a long and grueling battle. I need the [Queen’s] body intact enough for me to turn it into an undead, but that regeneration will make the whole process difficult.”
My elites look at me, expectantly. Even Aldonis seems to be waiting.
This whole thing would be so much easier if I had bones to work with. I could devise so many ways to kill without destroying. Unfortunately, it looks like a bit of luck will need to be involved.
“Alright. This final fight will be a bit of a long doozy. Aldonis, you’re going to be in charge of distracting the [Queen]. Cut off limbs and such, but avoid the main body. We’re going to need to bleed it to death. While you distract, we will quickly wipe away the minions.”
I sigh and shake my head, dearly hoping that the fight doesn't take too long.
“Alright, get into position. I’ll have my undead swarm inside first. Orlan, you’re going to stay outside and take out any threats that show up. I’ll leave some of my undead and Peter to bolster your defense.”
The group disperses and takes position. The battle then commences.
__________________________________________________________________
The [Queen] senses the invaders coming to her nest. Her feelers flicker in agitation as she commands her army to hold. Within her home, several thousand minions await her command. Each is as deadly and dangerous as the other. Their spikes are ready to impale whatever dares come within her lair.
She shuffles slightly, her spikes screeching on the stone ceiling and floor. Her body is large and extremely powerful. Her chitin is several inches thick. Her spikes are sharp enough to impale steel with ease.
Regardless, she fears for her life. What comes is far more dangerous than anything before. An army of bipedal creatures that fight and kill with an unimaginable efficiency. So far, all her attacks had failed to even slay one.
A thought passes through her limited mind. She thinks that maybe she should have fought smarter.
The thought disappears as quickly as it comes. Her enhanced hearing informs her that they are approaching the heart of her lair.
A moment passes and then they arrive. Her former minions, they swarm into her lair. With a mental nudge, her own army moves to meet them. They start to attack the invaders, seemingly winning initially, but the bipedal creatures enter soon after. They spread out, joining the attack, but like before, they always retreat when injured.
Opening her mandibles, she screeches and then attempts to move. The rock around her screeches in response, stone structure breaking as she attempts to confront the issue, but she ultimately fails as more of her spikes penetrate into stone.
She screeches again in rage, but she cannot break free. Her size is much too large. Regardless, she continues to struggle, slowly but surely breaking out of her self-created restraints.
“[Flickering Sword].”
A red dash passes her vision, followed with pain as her spikes are severed. Green blood begins to flow from the open wounds. The ichor strikes the floor, hissing as the acid within the liquid does its deadly work on the stone. The stone, of which, begins to melt.
Within an instant, she concentrates and her acidic fluids coagulate around the wounds. In another moment, the spikes begin to quickly grow back.
She witnesses a flicker, followed by a dozen more of her spikes being severed. She shrieks in pain before looking for the cause.
Her eyes land on an indistinct red blur. The body is hazy, seemingly unfocused. She raises one of her six sharp pincers and slashes forward. Her claw gouges through the smooth rock floor.
And once again, pain begins to spread across her body as spikes are severed.
She screeches again, finding the red smudge. She raises all six of her arms and begins to move. The ground breaks with each swipe, but the red thing continues to dodge, somehow continuing to find a way to injure her.
As her movements begin to speed up and her eyes begin to adjust to the high speed motion, her ears perk up.
___________________________________________________________
“[Arcane Instrument: Concert Grand Piano].”
My mana hums as the battle rages around me. It costs significantly less the second time as the piano materialises. This time though, I also create an indentation that swerves upwards to a chair.
I flourish my robe and walk to my creation. The purple construct is waiting for me without a blemish. Its crystal-like structure is glinting from the inner cavern crystal light. I sit down on the stool, my hands gliding slowly on the keys, relishing at the feel. Memories of my mother's own piano surface to my thoughts. The gold-encrusted one had been slightly smaller, but still just as amazing. She had used it when she was younger and was an exceptional pianist. It was a time before I was ever born, a time before she had entered the porn industry.
I flex my hands and crack my fingers, my thoughts trailing to my childhood. The songs I was taught not by my tutor, but my own mother. I breathe slowly and remember those days with vivid detail.
“[Loud Voice], [Harmony of Movement], [Hymn of Power],” I activate several skills and then begin.
The keys react to my touch, creating a swell of sound that sweeps through the chamber. Emotion is the tool that [Bards] wield, and it is that tool I must now utilize.
I began to play Sealed Vessel and allow my experience to take over...
A single high note, followed by a lower one.
The tune, not yet reaching a full pickup, lulls even further, each sound dragging behind it a heavy burden.
And then, as if carried by hurried steps, it slowly starts to pick up. Tiny tones resonate one after another almost immediately, flurried along in a harsh whisper.
Louder, and louder, and louder, and LOUDER AND-
Silence.
…
Two hands move separately, almost as if two different wills, two different roles, two entirely different people, one who scampers and one who follows in deep strides. Strides that completely overpower the echos from the other.
The endless chase quickens, intensifies. Sweat, fear, and adrenaline pervade, and yet it seemed almost as if the music taunted the escaping one, lulling it with its ever insistint melody.
A change in the beat.
The strides, the toying strides, are strides no longer. Dashes to match the dashes of the other, the distance never made smaller nor larger. The notes toll for the one of which is weak, and the pursuer is the answer, the reply. It is a chase one can never leave, one that follows not for everyone, but for that one specific individual, more unavoidable than fate.
The footsteps, so previously quick, begin to slow, just as do the fingers. The keys hold a truth that can not be spoken with words or thoughts, and more concrete than actions could ever imply.
The closer the other becomes, the more space between them is made. The rhythm moves from fast to a slog and once more shifts to a desperate run. A silence that holds more mockery than any could ever voice. It is simply there.
One can only have so many second winds.
Shoes against cobble. Boots against soil. Bare feet against open road.
Finality, futility, both lurk within the rush of skin meeting ivory. One moment, the struggles proceed.
Then all is quiet.
…
A similar tune begins. Just as one from what seemed like so long ago.
Two hands move separately, almost as if two different wills, two different roles, two entirely different people, one who scampers and one who follows in deep strides. Strides that completely overpower the echoes from the other. Only, the scamper is no longer a scamper, but a stride that mimics a stride, a forgery. Each a perfect match for the other, an anticipation from a calm.
No matter how the second one moves, the first maintains their sturdy pace forward, no matter how shallow it may seem in comparison. By being the background it makes itself the centerpiece, the main highlight, the attraction.
It portrays a bravery that comes from one who has seen trials, who has endured many chases, and is unwilling to fall victim to another. If the world were to end the steps wouldn’t falter.
Memories. Times of so long ago.
It replays in that one’s mind, of when they used to scamper, and were chased with long strides. When the prey accepted their role as prey, and was but bait before the other.
The air, the sounds, the mocking silence, it all brings within them a burning crescendo. It coalesces into a thing that would scald off hairs, and yet not be entirely unpleasant as it got louder. And louder, and it a volume that would humble the mountains AND-
Silence. Not mockery, but true.
A quiet stride. It could be a sad one, a determined one, a lost one, but none could deny the single fact.
The fact that it was a quiet one, and it seemed almost as if the hunter no longer cared about the hunt. They stopped and looked at the one thought prey and looked in awe at such a simple yet humble walk. An invisible luggage carried with every step.
And, within a breath, they tried to mimic the person, to follow in the long footsteps.
Without knowing the weight and burden they carried, without knowing the hardships to get there, they followed. A stumble, a fall, but a forward pace.
And, in unison, they took a final step.
| Artistic Talent: [Dexterity Enhancement], [Strength Increasement], [Passive: Minor Regeneration]
While music continues, increase dexterity and strength by 25%. Allies obtain the [Minor Regeneration] passive ability.
Bonus [Harmony of Movement]: Increase dexterity by 20%
Bonus [Hymn of power]: Increase Strength and dexterity by 20% |
| [Minor Regeneration] Temporary ability obtained.
Increase natural body regeneration by 5000%. |
**********************************************
“[Dominating Gaze].”
Nighmora looks on curiously as a slight pressure wafts over the connection she has established with her Myrmeke. Her control wavers slightly and only for the briefest of moments before coming back to normal.
“That is interesting, Alba. I did feel you attempt to take the connection from me. This taming skill of yours, does it allow you to create a similar connection as me?”
Alba shakes her head with a frown. “Not exactly. My skill allows me to attempt to befriend and later manipulate monsters and beasts.”
“But not fully control, is that right?”
Alba nods, her gaze moving around Nighmora’s chambers and the monsters displayed before her.
“Not exactly. I’m sure there is a skill that would let me fully control my beasts, but my level is too low. I haven’t been leveling at all. There is nothing for me to actually tame other than Fang here.” she says, taking a moment to pet her extremely dangerous kitty.
“I see. That is indeed a difficult problem. This floor does indeed have monsters not controlled by [Queens], but they do not last long. I have yet to figure out where they are coming from.”
Alba folds her arms and sighs.
“It’s hard. I want to be useful, but so far I haven’t been able to do anything. I’m a [Beastmistress], that should allow me to control monsters.”
She sighs again.
“Hmmm, it is clear that you are in a state of mental instability. I unfortunately lack any way to assist you. I could possibly create a poison that can temporarily assist you, but that will take time and experimentation.”
Alba shakes her head. “I dont need drugs. It's just so difficult, being useless and all. I want to be strong and powerful. To have an army like you do…”
“I see…” she stops and begins thinking. Her weakness when compared to other [Queens] is her smaller body. Size dictates how many monsters she can control and how far she can control them. In a sense, she is weaker than a regular [Queen].
“Then, let us try something.”
With a mental command, she severs the mental connection with one of the Myrmeke. Its body falls to the floor, unmoving. It is still alive, but nothing else.
“Try your skill again, on that one,” Nighmora says.
“Um… hmmm… [Dominating Gaze].”
The monster springs to life as a headache rams into Alba’s noggin. She can feel the monster’s body, smell what it smells, see what it sees.
She begins to puke as the connection breaks. The monster falls back onto the stone floor.
“Ughhh, that felt horrible,” she says before puking some more.
***************************************************
“It seems I will need to speak with Aldonis about this.”
Monsters get crushed and dismembered as the ground shakes with each and every movement.
“His anger may very well get him killed. This is very not normal.”
Green blood pours into the sand in an enormous volume. The sand burns and creates smoke which does nothing to the one who had caused this.
“I feel a bit useless. Maybe I should go inside to help,” Orlan frowns.
*RRRROOOOOAAAAAARRRRRR*
Peter yells with such force that the sand trembles. His leg slams down, impaling a monster's body in a moment.
He stands over the destruction he had caused. His black fur bristles with diamond-like hardness. His size now exceeds the former Berosus by threefold. His evolution had only just begun as he leans down and begins crunching through an exoskeleton with ease, the acidic blood is nothing compared to his now far deadlier form.
