The man noticed a green jewel at the top of the hood the robed one was wearing. After eating the berry he was given, he could feel his eyes focusing on new details and his ears picking up frequencies of sounds he had ignored before.

"It's kicking in, isn't it?" the green jewel robed one said.

"Yes," the man said, his eyes narrowing on the skirmish he saw ahead of them.

The green jewel robed one glanced at the man beside him and squinted before focusing again on their path.

"I remember that look," the green jewel robed one said, "that madness!"

The man felt energy piercing his skin like a needle, all along his arms, chest, and legs. His hand gripped the spear-half so tightly he thought the handle might break.

Was it indeed madness? He couldn't resist its effect and it him instantly. It was like it had reawakened something within his body that was now yearning to burst out and assert itself. With every step he was more convinced it could not be contained and the fear that had still been inhibiting him was burnt away.

They were nearing on a noctogorge which was attempting to wheel away a cart full of furs. Its legs were driving into the ground and mud was being thrown up as it took its clumsy footing, catching itself falling and stumbling forward. It craned its head around nervously and barked out unintelligible orders in different directions.

"Take the left," the green jewel robed one said.

But he didn't hear the words. Now there was only the blood pounding in his head. He couldn't stop it. It was like he was watching his body take a course of its own as his muscles contracted and loosened with a single-minded purpose he no longer could control.

"Take the left!" the green jewel robed one commanded once more.

Yet all the man could see was the cart and noctogorge's back as it tried to pull away. He caught up to the noctogorge and plunged the spear-half into its back. It was a strike with no art, no grace, only physicality, bare violence, yet the new strength from the berry had almost thrown him off balance when he drove the weapon as far as he could.

[You have stabbed the noctogorge and poisoned it for 34 damage.]

[The noctogorge has been slain.]

This time the words that materialized in his mind did not surprise him at all. He blinked and they disappeared and he saw the squealing noctogorge drop to its knees before releasing the cart, slamming it on the ground, the wood rattling. The noctogorge fell face down into the ground, the spear sticking out of its back. He tried to pull out the spear-half from the noctogorge, but it was stuck, wedged deep within flesh, twisted between muscle and bone. He grabbed it with both hands to pry it out, and out it came, but in several pieces, which he threw in rage onto the ground.

He turned around, craving something more, only to meet a globular fist slam into his cheekbone, knocking him to the ground, his fall only softened by the lifeless noctogorge.

[You have been battered by a noctogorge. No damage due to temporary blitz-state. Damage will be applied after blitz-state ends. However, critical bodily injury such as dismemberment or structural destruction of the body (e.g., head, chest, abdomen, legs) will still be applied immediately.]

He sighed a short breath of relief and blinked so the words disappeared, only for them to be replaced by two noctogorge feet that blotted out the stars, noctogorge feet dropping right towards his stomach as he had previously imagined in a moment of fear, noctogorge feet that seemed to bring with them the weight of the entire sky and that were sinking fast, fast, fast, fast...