The moment he selected his Race was the moment Karastak knew it was a mistake to do so. He believed it would be a simple flash of light, and his body would be made in all its glorious splendor. That was not to be the case, unfortunately, as his body stiffened and fell hard upon the sand whilst spitting out a mouthful of blood. Inside his body, on the other hand, his muscles, bones, organs, everything was rearranging themselves in a tortuous experience. One which was similar to the fate of his last life, and this brought it forth in a fury.

Hatred and rage echoed throughout his mind as his eyes glowed like bright blood, freshly splashed upon virgin snow. Whereas his body contorted, shrank, and stretched whilst they fit into the template of the Foxman. A Race of Beastfolk that had the characteristics of a standard Fox which was forced into the shape of a Man. Of which his body was not, as it used to be that of a Goliath.

Just as he had fallen, Little Mother's eyes popped as she fluttered around his body, crying out in her own way as her master's body was tortured by an invisible hand. She could do nothing, beyond trying to make sense of what was happening, as he gave a short and guttural cry that was immediately cut off when she noted that his face stretched itself into a muzzle. This instance caused the bones to tear through and quickly regenerate the muscle and skin tissue lost during the process. However, pieces of his flesh were left behind, falling onto the sand as he regrew more.

On top of it all, she was hungry and did the only thing she could do in this situation, besides squeak at her tortured master. The little bat dove down, dodging and weaving underneath his contorting limbs, and snatched up the meat in her mouth. Whereupon she glided over to the bag, and promptly began to nibble on the sand caked, bloody flesh as she continued to watch with worried eyes.

The body of Karastak continued its contortion with the rib cage rounding off, becoming more refined as his lungs grew so that he had a better capacity for running. Whereas the rest of his organs moved to be more compacted with one another, as the rest of his body shrank accordingly. However, as it shrank, he released a sharp yowl as unneeded bones from his Goliath-like frame flew free from his body with a spray of blood which was immediately contained as the flesh grew anew.

Unfortunately, the bones within were not much off as those without. For inside, the legs, ankles, heels, and feet broke and rearranged themselves so that he could have three joints instead of two, as any other beast was to have. Even the whole of his feet changed, and also expelled the unnecessary bones, muscles, sinew, and tendons so that they could be reshaped into that of a hind paw. Once these were created, the flesh, bones, everything within stretched until they fit the unknown mold correctly. After which the rest of the body soon followed.

There was a need for a tail, but not just one, as many would surmise.

Karastak's tailbone, located above his hind quarters, stretched and thickened itself in a painful manner. One where he gasped as his mind fought for control, sending a flurry of energy down below so that it would lessen the impact. Unfortunately for himself, he gasped as the bones split into three sections. More flesh was molded over the appendages, but afterwards, they each fell limp in a bloodied heap between trousers and robes.

The hips of himself were also altered, but only in such a way to give a better range of motion for running, as the mold was formed over it. Which then led to the chest and its wide shoulders which were experiencing the same as the legs. What with bones flying away, including his own hands. His five digits were reduced to four, the last pair being expunged as a thin membrane of flesh grew up half way between the first and second knuckle of this paw-like hand. Of which caused the whole of the process to pause for a brief reprieve, and his mind felt another thin membrane form itself in the same position upon his feet.

After which the pain continued with the growth of his claws in both the feet and pawed hands. Where he would be able to retract them whenever he wished, but for now they were extended as his body was wracked. Once completed, he felt his shoulders being pushed a little closer together as the unknown mold folded upon him.

However, he stopped being able to see after this, but felt his hot blood splash down upon his face and robes, staining them with a coppery scent that was so much more pungent than when he was less animalistic. What is more, his entire skull felt as though something was pushing and pulling on it in its entirety.

The eye sockets were enlarged, his ears had fallen onto the ground whilst the holes were pushed to the top of his head and regrown into hairless points that twitched against the gentle breeze of a sobbing loved one who was forced to witness this transformation. What is more, he heard the soft whimperings of the squeaking Little Mother as she tore into something meaty, but his mind immediately blocked the sound out, as he knew what the answer was.

Once completed, the sound of a liquid being poured into a container made of bone echoed throughout his skull, and sight was soon returned. Though blurred, he could see the surrounding desert, the fallen Beacon, and the little white bat staring up at his with teary eyes as her fangs tore into one of his fallen ears.

Karastak then tried to speak, but found that he couldn't as a force dropped his down upon his back, as fangs and back molars pushed themselves down inside his mouth, and a hot, pink tongue erupted from somewhere within the back of his jaw. This allowed him to taste his hot blood as he spat out several Human-like teeth.

What came next, however, was a cool breeze flowing across his body, as he spied a silver, felt-like undercoat of fur coating his entirety. One that heralded the coming of a sea of dark grey fur which caused him to appear more blended into his surroundings, even if his surrounding was as bloodied as his rust coloured robe.

Even so, he heard a soft pop, and something helped him stand, even going so far as to hold him upright until his legs felt stronger. After which the whole of his body was filled with a green toned energy, revitalising and rejuvenating it with its properties. This caused his person to stop shivering and shaking as his muscles regrew to fit themselves around his new frame. For he was no longer a bulky Goliath, but a lithe Fox-like man who was covered in his own blood, and seethed with anger inside his mind.

Karastak desired to slay something, anything, but it had to be now and with his own two hands. He could not strangle Command for doing this to him, as he did not ask what would happen, only assumed this would all occur within an instant. Instead of causing his mind to relive his transportation to Terra once more, but amplified a thousand times from what he had to endure. Therefore, he wanted to slay something, and feel their hot blood run down his new muzzle, his hands, and perhaps even down his throat.

One which let out a guttural growl as he sniffed the air with a blackened nose. For he had found something else in the cool night air that was not his cooling blood nor his pet, but of something small and primitive. Something which was going to die soon.

*

“Squeak?” came the tiny voice of Little Mother as she watched with widened eyes as her master shook off his blood soaked robe, squelching boots, and tattered trousers. Of which led him to shake his body as any animal would to remove much of the liquid that clung to their bodies. This led to her eyes spying tiny droplets of crimson splattering upon the shadowed sand below.

After which she turned her gaze towards a fur covered fox-like creature which stood at a height of one and a half metres and had the build of a runner. What is more, the appearance of three tails behind him was rather confusing to her mind, but she quickly shook that free as her body took to the air in order to alight down upon his head. Whereupon she was met with a softness unlike none other, and soon found her mind listing off into a dreamless slumber.

Karastak, on the other hand, frowned down upon his body, noting that that which was betwixt his legs was no longer an appendage which hung loosely, but a tube which pointed up towards his head and was kept there by a film of thin flesh. There was still a pouch with his boys below it, but he had the feeling that if he were to be stimulated, it would all appear in the form of a red rocket. Continuing to frown, he decided not to pursue this train of thought, and instead hunted for his dagger.

Upon finding it within the blood soaked robes, he wondered about something with a, “Hmm,” as he tapped the right side of his muzzle. Holding it out before himself, he called upon one of his new spells, “.” Whereupon the dagger immediately leapt from his hand, and floated before his eyes as though something was clutching it as a novice would grip an unfamiliar weapon for the first time.

“Huh...” The newly made Foxman blinked his eyes as he shrugged, “Well, come along. There are enemies to slay, and I need a good blood bath.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched the unknown thing carrying his dagger hesitantly move, noting the lack of foot prints, but the blade was moved in such a manner. Shrugging once more, he moved his body closer to the ground as he ran with his new limbs to the right of the Tower doors where his nose had pointed him to where the enemies were to be.

Of which it turned out to be only three of the black skinned Goblins he and Little Mother had taken care of the day before. However, these had the appearance of scavengers, or outcasts. For their bodies appeared more crippled than anything else, what with one sporting a wrongly healed arm, another had a bulbous left eye which was blind, and the third was empty in the brain as it drooled with a lopsided grin and sightless eyes.

It wasn't fair what he planned to do to them, but Karastak wasn't the honorable sort. Therefore, he didn't care about these three outcasts of Goblin society, and instead vied for their blood. Of which his stomach rumbled for the meat they had upon their bones, even if it was the meat of degenerates.

“Let us begin, Dagger,” he grinned, pointing at the closest Goblin, the one with the empty brain and shouted, “!” Of which created a dazzling display of colours which lanced the brains of the other Goblins, especially the one with the large eye, causing them to shriek as the targeted creature whipped its head around with confusion. Instead of searching for some unknown foe, it instead decided that the pair before it was playing a game involving being blind, and decided to kill itself. This was done with it shoving its hands into the eyes, but had judged the distance between the eyes and its brain poorly. Therefore, the idiot creature fell away dead as the other two continued to screech.

Frowning once more, the Foxman advanced upon the large eyed creature with claws extended. After which he lifted it up by its throat, grinning as the airway was slowly becoming blocked until it struggled as fiercely as it could for breath. Unfortunately for it, its life was soon at an end, as the creature's neck snapped, signaling the end of its days forevermore.

The remaining one, on the other hand, blinked and shook its head just as Karastak directed the floating dagger down upon the creature's body. “Stab it,” he commanded with folded arms, “I desire to see the colour of its blood.”

The thing holding the dagger hesitantly brought the blade closer to the creature's back, where it paused as the black skinned Goblin turned around, revealing a pair of widened, but beady eyes as it saw a floating dagger being held up by nothing. “Do it,” he commanded, and thought he heard a silent apology as the blade was plunged into the neck of the small creature. Of which cried out, clutching at the wound as it fell back whilst a dark spray shot out.

“Kill. It,” growled the Foxman, whose eyes glowed with the colours of insane hatred for all things living. After which he heard a mental cry, and watched as the dagger was raised high, charged over to the creature, and proceed to plunge the dagger into the body repeatedly. Even going so far as to continue for a few minutes after it gave its final breath.

“Very good,” Karastak grinned, clapping his paws together. From glancing at the dagger being held by the unknown thing, he visualised a young person sobbing whilst stabbing the small creature over and over. Of which caused him to grin an insane grin, more so when he caught the dagger shivering under his gaze.

“Now then,” he turned his eyes towards the heavens where he glowered at the unknown entity which claimed to be a part of his “System”, “Command.”

“{Awaiting Command,}” came the monotonous voice with just a minute tinge of dread flittering amongst its words.

“You owe me quite a lot, Command. Especially for that torture session you sent me through without a warning. I mean come on, at least warn me if something like that appears in my near future.”

“{......Acknowledged.}”

“Good,” he nodded slowly, “Now this is what I want right now. So listen closely, alright?”

“{...}”