A sharp, crackling sound resonated through the air, merging with the wails of pain, despair and anger, as Al chewed then swallowed the arm he had viciously torn from its previous owner who was now bleeding out a few meters behind him.

The stench of iron, similar to what he would expect if he was killing humans, filled the air, along with more unpleasant odours that caused his face to scrunch in displeasure.

Another chilling scream joins the others, quickly turning into a gurgling choke, as one of the spikes on Al's tail slams into the chest of yet another Rakorn, already lost in the panicking crowd as the creature fell to its knees.

The Rakorn had committed most of their forces to their attempt to break out of the encirclement and, even for a being seemingly built for a single, deadly purpose, their numbers would have overwhelmed him if they hadn't all pushed forward in a single mass and attempted to steamroll their way through the humans.

Al moved through them like a fish in water, their weapons and magic almost useless, as most were obstructed by their kin.

Due to the speed and ferocity of his attack, they didn't even have time to plan or organise themselves though Al was still occasionally wounded, it was more by luck and individual skill than any concentrated effort.

Though not a single surviving Rakorn that had witnessed him pass would ever believe it, Al wasn't capitalising on his advantage.

His objective wasn't to kill them all, or even make life easier for the humans that he had already passed. He was merely passing through, using the most direct route to reach the human fortress.

The few Rakorn that managed to get out of his way in time were ignored, just like those that had fallen to the floor and were too far or in an awkward position for him to effortlessly kill.

However, just like a force of nature, any that stood in his way, those that remained were put down with brutal efficiency and a cold detachment.

Male or female, young or old, innocent or guilty, it didn't matter to Al.

There was only a single entity in this world he felt he could not harm, and two that he would be reluctant to if the need arose.

The thought struck him as weird, as he was here slaughtering Kallis and Hope's kind without a slither of hesitation but Al quickly came to the realisation that it was merely that he had, at least provisionally, accepted responsibility for them and into his pack.

Al span, dodging a bone-like sword as he deflected a club, delivering lethal blows to their wielders and used their corpses to propel him closer to his objective, his mouth watering at the prospect of catching those he had deemed worthy of becoming his prey.

His prey had infiltrated the human fortress, where those too weak to fight had been kept, and hunting children with the aim of kidnapping half and sacrificing the others to power portals.

A muffled thump rumbled deep in Al's chest, and his speed increased, steam seeping from his mouth as his body was pushed to its limits.

While purging the memories, for now, lost reason, Al ensured that he would remember his objective, however, much to his surprise, the rage that he felt gave credit to a theory he had been quietly mulling over for some time.

That his core personality, what made him, him, was not entirely created by the experiences he had gathered throughout life.

This theory started when Eve had told him about his bodies ability and was furthered when his brain was destroyed and rebuilt but, at least to his knowledge, did not affect his personality.

Eve talked about the merging of souls, and if his abilities were anywhere close to what Eve suggested, then religious or not, he had no reason to doubt its existence.

And Al's soul was telling him, no demanding one thing.

That those that would harm the human children needed to die.

A growl rose from the depths of Al's being, and his speed increased once again, his blue, gore-covered claws blurring as they tore into the horde.

At the edge of his consciousness, he knew he was burning energy too fast and needed to slow down or at least replenish his reserves but whatever it was, a moral obligation, his soul or something more incomprehensible, kept pushing him forward at a reckless pace.

He would feast on their corpses when he had achieved his goal. Until then, he would have to make do with the snacks he could pillage on his way.

Al heard a snap, and felt a dull ache and momentary sense of weakness in his arm, and noted that while extremely deadly, his spikes and blades were too fragile for prolonged use, especially against the Rakorn's thick, leathery hide.

His body was replacing them as soon as they broke adding yet another expenditure of his dwindling energy.

He needed to get through the Rakorn fast, or he would need to slow down and eat.

If anyone could see under his thick, scaled exoskeleton, if they could see through the steam that was rising from his sweat covered body, they would find that his human body was quickly becoming gaunt.

Al had been expecting Eve to say something, to tell him to slow down or suggest going around the horde. Maybe even abandoning the children as the humans should be able to take care of their own but she didn't.

It struck him as odd, just like the eerie sensation that he was being watched and studied by something but, unlike before when he would have tried to analyse the situation, he continued forward.

He had died four times since coming to this world. The fall, the pool, the crawler and finally, the purge. The old him was dead, and he had never felt so liberated and free before.

Smashing a kneecap before decapitating a female warrior, flicking her body into the path of an earth spear, Al noticed that the distance between the Rakorn was rapidly increasing.

-"Tsk," He knew that things were about to get easier or, expecting the worst, get much more difficult and within moments he had his answer as he burst through the final line of Rakorn and almost fell on his face at the sudden lack of resistance.

Stamping on the ground with his leading leg, something that no human, no matter how flexible, would be able to do, Al caught himself at the last moment. Just as he was about to sprint forward, a booming voice caused the hairs on the back of his human head to stand on end.

"FIRE!"

Though, it wasn't the voice that had triggered his subconscious reaction. It was something much more powerful and, due to his recent, painful experiences, familiar.

The world seemed to dim, causing a red hue to brighten around the nearby Rakorn, at least in Al's vision, as streaks of lightning, followed by muted thunder, ripped through the air and hurled towards him.

The attack had been made in such haste that Al didn't even need to try and dodge the first two bolts which smashed into the Rakorn behind him and added the stench of burnt flesh to the already putrid mixture in the air.

The next two, arching practically forced him to twist and leap into the air as they passed through the space where his tail and legs had been moments before.

Though nowhere near the speed and power of a real lightning bolt, from experience, Al knew the destructive power they represented and immediately focused on dodging the fourteen remaining attacks as he twisted, lept, jumped and at one point threw himself at the ground, breaking his wrist in the process.

His muscles and bones screamed in protest but, against all the odds, he dodged the last one and skidded in the light mud.

Ahead of him, no more than a couple of dozen meters, a group of Rakorn.

Al recognised seven of them as those that could cast magic, their hands still steaming from where they controlled their elemental attack and felt the spikes on his back shake in rage.

Between them, were a few Rakorn and what looked like the remains of hulking golems. By the damage to the construct’s mud, metal and in some cases, crystal-like surfaces it was clear that they had fought the Rakorn.

By the mounds of bodies, it appeared that even if defeat, they had delivered a crippling blow to this segment of the Warband.

All the Rakorn who had witnessed the assault, including the seven who had their hands stuck in the air, were frozen solid, their eyes wide in terror at what they had just seen.

Covered in the remains of their kind, the creature that was covered in strange pulsing, purple lines, had spectacularly dodged an attack that even their highest ranked warriors, back in their capital, would have difficulty surviving.

Small sparks of electricity crackled around the White Hunter, residue from the attack, at least for those watching, the world seemed to freeze as their resolve started to crumble.

Behind the seven, a large, scar-ridden Rakorn, carrying a giant, two-sided bone axe swallowed hard as he calmed his nerves. Unlike most that had been seen as expendable enough to go on this expedition, he had extensive knowledge regarding the arrival of new species.

He immediately knew, when they encountered the human's forces that it had been a mistake to antagonise them. While the few they had captured seemed weak, the majority were far from it. Individually they were robust, diverse and unpredictable but together, mainly after they organised themselves after the initial confrontation, they were a force to be reckoned with.

They continually adapted and improved, changing strategies to capitalise on their opponent's weakness while minimising their own.

Not only that, it was now apparent that this was just the rank and file of their forces. Like the pale skinned man earlier he had duelled before, they had incredibly strong and mighty warriors, and even the weakest looking could not be underestimated.

Letting out a deep breath, he shouldered his axe and started moving forward, feeling the small sense of relief that he had sent his scouts to secure the human young and return them to the capital. With any luck, the children would show his leaders that it was either peace or extinction with the humans. They were too dangerous to allow to develop and propagate if they were hostile to the Rakorn. Especially those like the one in front of him.

He momentarily wondered if it was worth trying to bargain with the creature but instantly dismissed the idea.

Their history was one of blood, both his subordinates and the creature's own.

Death was the only outcome. He just prayed it wasn't his.