Part Fifty-Three

Rage, hate, pain, disbelief, and shock all warred within his mind. His thoughts, which had become progressively erratic as the fight went on, finally became coherent again. And one question dominated his thoughts.

How had it come to this?

***

To understand the sequence of events that ultimately led to this, one had to go back to Finnél’s childhood and the circumstances of his birth.

Finnél had led both a privileged and unprivileged life. Born into House Valec, a member of the Genaap Continental Alliance, his every need had been met growing up. He’d never gone a day hungry, never lacked for educational or recreational activities, nor had he ever had to deal with the unreasonableness the world sometimes throws at you. So for the most part, his life had been good.

And yet, it could not be said to be great.

Even though it was comparable to one of Earth's superpowers, House Valec was in constant danger. Their lands, some of the most fertile grounds on the continent, were overrun by monsters. There were multiple instances of cities being completely destroyed throughout its history. Thus, the House had taken drastic countermeasures to ensure each successive generation was as strong as possible.

Almost as soon as they were stable enough, all children of the House’s lineage would be taken from their parents. These children were raised together, completely independent of their respective parents.

From the moment they turn six, they are relentlessly trained in the art of battle, and the knowledge they will need to lead the House in the future. Mana Arts, Swordsmanship, arithmetic, history, politics, magic. Dozens of topics are continuously taught to them until they reach a certain age.

Those born into worlds connected to the System are not immediately connected to it themselves. While it varies from species to species, most mortals are connected once their minds and egos are developed to the point where they will not destroy themselves with their newfound powers. For humans, this is usually around ten to twelve years-old.

Once connected, their lessons begin to take a new direction. Lessons on monster ecology and System mechanics begin to dominate the curriculum, and lessons are taught one-on-one instead of in groups. Combat lessons move on from the basics to actual drills, and new, stricter instructors are brought in. Every year, there is always at least one child who runs away. The House will not pursue them, and they are usually never seen again.

Once the children reach roughly sixteen years of age, they are brought together once again, but are constantly pitted against one another. Those who succeed during this time are rewarded with extra comforts, while those who do not are made to go without. Years pass, and the children grow into young adults. They have nearly reached the end of their training, but there is one last gruesome ordeal they must survive.

Every three years, those between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one are forcibly sent out into the wilderness. They are to hunt and kill a C-Rank monster for each of them. It matters not if they do it themselves or in a group, for it benefited the House either way. Though twenty percent do not return from this challenge.

It was there that Finnél’s life went off the rails. Up to that point, he’d been one of the House’s golden children, and had had a splendid future ahead of him. But alas, things do not always go according to plan.

During his final challenge, his group had banded together. The idea was sound, as there were a great many talented individuals among them. However, monsters do not enjoy playing to the rules mortals set, and often find ways to utterly fuck everything up.

You see, the monsters on the House’s lands are either one of two categories. They are either weak, low-rank monsters, or the wolves that hunt them. The territory not directly under mortal supervision is home to a wolf pack estimated to have millions of members. Most of the wolves are spread out in small bubbles, meant to prevent them from overhunting any specific area. But on occasion, large packs led by powerful individuals are known to appear.

When they sighted the pack of close to five thousand, there were some who thought it an excellent opportunity. A pack of that size was sure to have a number of C-Rank wolves. If they merely lured portions of it away, then they could pick them off until they had the required number. But that was not to be.

They’d expected the pack to be composed of multiple C-Rank-led packs combined. But after a few battles, they’d only seen E-Rank wolves and the occasional D-Rank. There was nothing to explain the sheer size of the pack, at least until the alpha returned to find some delicious mortals attacking its pack.

Wolf packs tend to fluctuate in size, as different individuals will often leave to form their own packs. And packs will rarely combine, unless the leader of one vastly overpowers the other. And that was what had happened here. The unaware hunters had stumbled upon the pack of a newly minted B-Rank while it was away gathering more followers. And upon its return, it unleashed its fury.

Finnél never actually saw the beast. All he heard was its howl, and then the world turned upside-down. The attack had been a shockwave, similar to the ones used by Shadow Wolves, but on a completely different scale. Most of the group were sent flying for dozens of meters, if they weren’t outright obliterated by the attack. Finnél was lucky enough to land in a nearby river, which ensured his safety.

Alone, and without any supplies, Finnél wandered the plains for a time, dodging the occasional monster. He had to find food and fast. And it was that desire that led him to the biggest turning point of his life.

After stumbling upon a cave, he discovered the corpse of one of his former family. Desperate and starving, he then performed one of the most taboo of acts. This was something that would have unintended consequences and benefits. After gorging himself, he felt a rush of energy inside of himself. Surprised at the sudden turn of events, he would be even more astonished by what happened next.

::Individual has acquired Title: Narcissistic Cannibal. Acquired Archetype: Cannibal.::

The Cannibal Archetype allowed him to absorb Essence, or life-force, from eating the corpses of his species. Unlike killing monsters, which only netted you a single percent of their total Essence, eating the corpse had given him over half of its Essence. It was the easiest shortcut to power ever found. And it was also the first step down a dark, twisted road.

After that, he prowled the desolate plains, eagerly searching for more prey. And he soon found some, a traveler who’d wandered off the beaten path, lured them somewhere remote, and stabbed them in the back so he could eat them. This also earned him the Murderer Title, but that was of little concern.

Over the next month, he found another two victims, neither of who were related to him, and killed and ate them. These taboo acts gave him the energy he needed to eventually hunt down a C-Rank wolf and return home. Only now, he had a problem. All members of House Valec possessed the Scanning Skill from birth, but a few possessed even stronger Skills that would allow them to view his Status in its entirely. While they would have no reason to do so, the danger still remained.

He needed a way to avoid that. And one appeared before him.

By this time, those who’d previously experienced the final challenge had all acquired their Classes or died. All except for one. This man, a relative who he’d never spoken to before, approached him with an offer. It turned out that Finnél wasn’t the first to turn to cannibalism to survive in this cutthroat world. Cannibals could identify each other on sight due to the System. This man, named Zévric, offered him a way to hide the fact that he was a Cannibal. All he had to do was to help him pass his Trial.

For Finnél, this was perfect. He had yet to decide on a Class, so he wasn’t too cut up about having one picked for him. It was even better since he had an affinity for Illusion Magic, which was required for the Class in question. After he agreed, Zévric began instructing him. He taught him how to deceive his victims, how to gain their trust and lull them into a sense of complacency before striking. He even helped him to acquire the Racial Camouflage Authority, which allowed him to disguise himself as members of different races.

Everything had been fine, up until they finally attempted their Trial. An attempt which ended catastrophically. The both of them suffered grievous wounds that left them on the verge of death, and they’d barely managed to survive until the time limit expired. And since they’d failed, a harsh penalty was inflicted to them, both by House Valec and the System.

That was the primary reason he was here on Earth. House Valec was incredibly cutthroat. Even one failure was enough to cause one to be scorned. As a consequence of his failure, he’d been sent to this backwater dimension to gather resources for the House as one of several agents, though he was the only direct member of the House. The others were all pawns or other tools.

The whole situation only compounded an issue that he’d missed. The System’s Archetypes all had their benefits and detriments, Cannibal was no exception. Despite the fact that cannibalism was its own issue, every time it’s effect activated, the user would become more and more unstable. Amplification of negative traits wasn’t unusual, nor was complete mental breaks.

Even Zévric wasn’t aware of this effect. He’d been a Cannibal for years, and had taken extreme precautions so his predilections wouldn’t be discovered. Since he’d waited months or even years between victims, the effects on his psyche were minimal. But Finnél hadn’t. Over the last two years, he’d killed and eaten close to two dozen people, compromising himself. And after they failed the Trial, he’d gone to drastic steps to improve himself, even going so far as to take drugs designed to increase the potency of his mana and his overall abilities.

All it would take was a single stimulus, an event distressing enough to push him past the breaking point. And losing an arm was exactly that.

“You wretches! How dare you maim me like this!”

Finnél belonged to a race known as Etralyphians, which were native to the world of Genaap. As a four-armed, physically superior species, they’d dominated the dimension until World Decay began, causing most of their countries to collapse. But even now, millennia afterwards, many of the race's established families still carried the pride and prejudice that had led to. And for Etralyphians, their lower arms were a sign of that pride. To have one cut off was the biggest insult imaginable.

“Youuuu! How, HOW DARE YOU!”

Finnél, already on the brink of snapping from the stress he was under, went ballistic from the loss of his arm. All thoughts of escape completely left his mind. All he could think of was killing the one responsible for maiming him.

He swallowed another of the little black pills he kept in a bag only he could open. Normally, he only able to purchase a few doses, but he’d luckily come into a large quantity just before he’d arrived at the Dungeon, letting him use them liberally. It was the only reason that he’d held out for so long against the Earthlings. With this latest dose, he felt more strength than ever before flood through his body. This was the first time he’d ever used so many doses a once, and he felt as if he was unstoppable.

He even went so far as to activate Monstrous Strength, a Normal Skill which dramatically increased the user's musculature. Using this Skill for too long usually led to some severe recoil, but the drugs coursing through his veins would temper the side-effects. And while he wouldn’t be able to regenerate his lost arm, the minor wounds dotting his body would heal in a few moments, even the one’s inflicted by the arrows. He merely had to rip them free of his flesh, and the wounds started to seal up.

Turning back around, he saw that the rat was slowly backing away from him.

“Hahahaha, yes, fear me, you stupid wretch. Learn your place, human.”

***

What the literal fuck!? What, what’s going on here!?

Finnél had eaten something, and then gone all crazy-eyed on me. He even started to spout gibberish in this raspy, creepy voice. Whatever he’d taken was nothing but bad news. But the mana and malice I felt seeping from him was even worse. Getting some room was paramount right now.

“Oh-no you don’t. You’re not going anywhere”

But he wasn’t going to just let me get away. Still speaking in the same odd manner, he lunged straight for me, his sword aimed for my heart. I somehow barely managed to divert the attack, and was instead only grazed by the blade. Searing heat spread from the wound, possibly meaning that I’d been poisoned. I tried to stab him with my sword, but he used his free hand to grab my shoulder and threw me into a nearby building. I had to desperately roll to the side to avoid the follow-up attack aimed for my head.

“Hold still, little mouse. JusT let Me kill YoU.”

Whatever was going on with him was getting worse. His eyes were now bloodshot, and small black line were beginning to form in them. And since his voice kept warping further and further, his overall aura was beginning to remind me of a monster’s. If it weren’t for Braddock and the others intervening at that moment, he probably would’ve killed me.

*Clang!*

“Erf, I don’t know what you’ve done to yourself Finnél, but I’m not letting you take any more lives today.”

Braddock had blocked an attack meant for me, while several others surrounded them. They were clearly attempting to dog-pile Finnél to stop him, but his new power was a league above what he’d had before. He merely grabbed Braddock’s shield and threw him into two other men. He’d thrown a grown man in full metal armor, carrying a shield as big as me. Whatever he’d done to himself had massively strengthened him.

“Hahahaha, if You WantEd tO plAy So bAdLy, aLl yOu Had To dO WaS ASk.”

Alicia tried to shoot him several times, but Finnél either deflected the arrows, or just yanked them out of himself without a care in the world. Each time he did so, the flesh just grew back, but it came back warped and bubbling. With the color of his skin, it almost looked burnt.

I don’t, what the, I, I. Since when was this a horror show!? It was closer to fantasy up to now, but this isn’t normal! How the hell did he throw Braddock like that? And, oh my god! He just ripped that guy’s arm off!

Upon seeing Braddock thrown aside like a rag-doll, several other mercenaries had rushed him, but to no avail. They weren’t unskilled, but Finnél was just that dangerous. He wasn’t even bothering to block their most of attacks, since they just healed. He only made the bare minimum effort to protect his vitals. Whatever regeneration he had was too strong.

Wait, if he’s regenerating, then we just need to inflict wounds he can’t regenerate! If I had….but where is it?

It took a few minutes of searching, but I finally located the black sword. It must’ve been kicked in the earlier fight, because it was off to the side, up against a building. Getting to it would be hard though, since it was past those fighting. Oh, and I was still poisoned.

I’d already drank an Antidote and a Recovery Tonic, but whatever poison Finnél used was quite strong, and the medicines were only just suppressing the effects. And since Kalia was busy trying to keep the others alive, there was little chance of her having the time to heal me. And so I was practically forced to crawl over to where my sword lay, inch by agonizing inch.

“HaHaHa! YeS, YEs! PlaY WItH Me! AhahaHAhahaHAHahA!”

A quick glance back revealed that things were getting worse. Finnél was increasingly becoming unrecognizable, as whatever was warping him gained more and more influence. The fact that he’d started to laugh while fighting showed just how far gone he really was. Even Braddock and Sampson were looking worse for wear, and Braddock’s shield was starting to warp from the pounding it was taking.

But at the same time, they were making progress. Finnél’s upper-left arm was gone, severed at the elbow, and he only had the purple thrusting sword left. The problem was that any inflicted wounds would heal, meaning we had to sever all of his limbs if we wanted to capture him alive, if even that. Given his current state, it was hard to believe he’d be able to even remember who he was, let alone answer questions.

That was when I felt the effects of the poison ebb, and my wounds began to heal. Kalia had somehow managed to send a spell towards me. Considering that we currently had two dozen or so mercenaries switching in and out to fight, she had her hands full keeping them all alive. If only we had even one more like her, we’d be set.

Fully recovered, I was able to easily slip around the others and reclaim the black sword, which meant I could now use Grudge Magic again. It was definitely a weakness that simply losing the sword could completely disable my magic, one I needed to rectify sooner rather than later.

I dived back into the brawl, but this time, I wasn’t planning on fighting for long. My plan was simple. I’d hit Finnél with [Seize], effectively disabling him. Of course it might not work, but I’d just switch to [Rot] in that case. Either way, this guy was finished.

“HeLLo aGaiN LiTtlE MouSe. Have yOu ComE bAcK to pLAy?”

The bastard somehow knew I was there. Whether he felt the mana of my spell, or just had an uncanny sense for where I was, I didn’t know. But I did know that it didn’t matter. I blocked his sword as I stabbed at his unprotected side.

“ErRrRRrAaaA!”

I’d gotten him in the same place he’d gotten me earlier, and [Seize] took effect immediately. His body may have regenerated, but his armor couldn’t. It had numerous cracks and gouges, and I’d managed to find one and pierce through it. But shockingly, even with Miasma entering his bloodstream, and dulling his nerves and arresting his muscles and whatever else the spell did, he could still move. His lower-left arm tried to gouge into my side, so I had to back away, pulling my sword free and ending the spell. But again, there was already Miasma in his system. There was no stopping the effects now.

Finnél fell to one knee, and everyone relaxed. But we should’ve known. Finnél wasn’t even close to sane right now. Whatever he’d eaten had driven him insane and given him a massive power boost. So what was he obviously going to do in his current state?

“NoOoO, nOT YEt.”

Finnél grabbed a small pouch hanging from his belt, and before anyone could react, brought it up to his mouth, and dumped the contents into it. I, and everyone else, watched in muted horror as he chewed a few time before swallowing. And a moment later, Finnél was throwing up blood. Somehow, I just knew we were in deep shit.