Chapter 119: An Eerie Transformation

“Bang!” A dull thud echoed as the ancient Grolodok, whose neck had been twisted off, was viciously hurled aside by Scanorli. Though the action was brief, the remaining Grolodoks seized the moment and surged forward like a swarm. One of them even stomped hard on the fallen comrade’s corpse, using it as a springboard to launch itself like a cannonball, roaring as it lunged at Scanorli.

Transformed into a colossal beast over ten meters long, Scanorli resembled a mountain of flesh from afar. Such immense bulk often led one to assume his movements would be clumsy, but the reality was quite the opposite. He cast a disdainful glance at the Grolodok leaping through the air, then swept his gaze over the dozen or so charging enemies before him. With a cold snort, he twisted his waist and suddenly took a step forward.

In this situation, Scanorli did not retreat; instead, he boldly advanced. Casually eyeing the Grolodok descending in an arc, he seized one of its bony claws with unerring precision. His terrifying grip nearly crushed the pitch-black claw to powder. “Bang!” The creature was slammed onto the ground with brutal force, creating a shocking crater on the earth beneath.

Ignoring the piercing, agonized screeches of the Grolodok, Scanorli’s eyes brimmed with lethal intent as he casually swept over the surrounding foes. With a feral roar, he wielded the captured Grolodok like a weapon, gripping its bone claw tightly and swinging it fiercely at another charging Grolodok.

“Bang!”

Though both were Grolodoks, identical in size and armor hardness, the one used as a weapon struck the other with such devastating power that the once impenetrable shell shattered like paper. The dark armor splintered, and viscous blood and gore spilled out in torrents. The black bone claw tried to brace against the ground, as if attempting to rise again, but after several failed attempts, it lay limp. Its abdomen, stained with glaring green blood mixed with blurred fragments of flesh, painted a grotesque yet strikingly vivid tableau of carnage.

Of course, the Grolodok used as a weapon fared no better. Its pitch-black shell was almost entirely stripped away, with only a few shattered plates clinging to its mangled flesh. The glaring green blood dripped incessantly, some splattering onto Scanorli himself. Yet he paid no heed, instead sneering as his massive ten-meter frame bent suddenly, charging forward like a cannonball toward the remaining Grolodoks. The weaponized Grolodok’s sharp, agonized wails rang out, but Scanorli treated them as the battle hymns of war, pouring every ounce of strength into his furious assault, roaring as he battered the remaining foes into submission.

In stark contrast to Scanorli’s brutal fighting style, Nasa’s combat was sheer artistry. His movements were always swift and nimble, the onslaught fierce and precise, yet breathtakingly elegant. Not a trace of the usual clumsiness typical of beast tribes marred his form. Even in a berserk state where reason and thought had fled, his instinctive battle prowess remained flawless. His crimson eyes locked mercilessly onto each target, executing them with relentless efficiency before moving on to the next in an endless cycle—fluid, unhesitating, as if untouched by fatigue.

Amid the dense throng of decayed undead, Nasa’s form flickered like a phantom, impossible to track with the naked eye. His ebony greatsword now shimmered with a vivid dark green hue, its blade capable of piercing even Grolodok’s hardened shells. Though the sword bore a few nicks and a slightly curved tip from wear, Nasa’s strikes remained devastatingly smooth and lethal. Each flash of his blade spelled death for another undead creature.

His mind raced as fast as his blade, though his thoughts were minimal—merely calculating which enemy was closest. His blood-red eyes spun rapidly before locking onto the nearest foe. In a blink, he dashed forward at incredible speed, gripping his greatsword tightly. With a screech of metal on flesh, the blade severed more than half the undead’s skull. The massive sword danced at Nasa’s graceful wrists, ending the creature’s life with a final, precise strike.

The cacophony of undead howls and roars filled the air, but Nasa remained indifferent, not even glancing back. Instead, he flicked his tongue to catch a drop of green blood from his lips, twisted his body, and swept his greatsword in a perfect arc. Another shriek echoed as an undead creature collapsed heavily behind him.

Even in the face of such overwhelming numbers, Nasa showed no sign of faltering. His berserk strength was formidable, but so too was his innate prowess. Surrounding him were many grotesque undead, stronger and more armored than the Grolodoks, yet before Nasa’s relentless blade, they fell like mere insects one after another.

Yet despite his ferocity, the sheer multitude of undead was staggering. No matter how many Nasa felled, the amassed horde remained vast. Those in the front, aware of Nasa’s deadly presence, hesitated, but the endless tide behind them pressed forward, increasing the pressure relentlessly.

At this critical moment, a subtle change flickered in Nasa’s blood-red eyes. Gradually, the crimson dulled, fading back to their original color. As clarity returned to his mind, a wave of realization swept over him.

“This is bad!” flashed through Nasa’s mind. As the berserk effect began to wear off, its side effects swiftly followed. His body felt as if weighed down by a mountain; wielding his greatsword became a struggle, and even standing upright was a challenge. Finally, with a heavy thud, Nasa collapsed to the ground.

A flicker of unwillingness crossed his eyes. He bit down hard on his lips, flesh raw and bloodied, as if trying to use pain to awaken some response. But it was futile. After three bouts of berserk fury, his strength was utterly drained. Now, he lay like a lifeless puppet, staring blankly at the ravenous undead closing in around him.

“Ugh!”

The undead, long terrified, suddenly grew animated. Though they had no understanding of what had befallen Nasa—nor could their limited intellect grasp it—they sensed an opportunity. They surged forward, eager to tear and devour the tempting flesh exposed on the fallen warrior.

“Roar!”

Scanorli bellowed, slapping a Grolodok hard onto the ground. Grabbing its head, he slammed it repeatedly against the earth. In his grasp was a revolting mass of flesh, barely recognizable as a once-living Grolodok.

“Bang!”

A brutal smash shattered much of the creature’s skull. No matter how strong its regenerative abilities, such damage was beyond repair. Scanorli discarded the fleshy lump and seized another fallen Grolodok, ready to wield it as his new “weapon.”

Rising slowly, Scanorli scanned the area. Where there had once been over a dozen Grolodoks, only five remained. It was only a matter of time before he wiped them out. Instinctively, he glanced back toward Nasa, curious about his condition—only to find him lying like a corpse, surrounded by undead swarming like mad beasts.

“Nasa!”

Scanorli roared, knowing he was too late, yet he charged toward his comrade’s location. The Grolodoks, sensing something, surged forward en masse to block his path.

“Get the hell out of my way!”

With a furious charge, Scanorli punched one Grolodok’s eye socket into a hollow, crushing the eye to pulp. Yet despite this, the five remaining blocked his advance entirely, leaving no chance to circumvent them.

“Nasa!”

Scanorli’s desperate roar filled the air as he recklessly charged the five foes. Meanwhile, Nasa heard Scanorli’s cries and a faint flicker crossed his eyes.

“How laughable... that I, Nasa, could die here... Is this the end?”

Such a thought flashed through Nasa’s mind, though even he was unaware that his hand still tightly gripped his greatsword.

“Ugh!”

The undead howled joyfully, their sharp claws now mere inches from Nasa’s body. Yet even now, Nasa’s eyes remained wide open, revealing the serene composure of a true king. Facing death, he refused to close them!

Then, just as all seemed lost, a stunning green light suddenly flashed before his eyes. Amid the wailing screams, a figure appeared out of nowhere—something Nasa never expected. Though the figure was also battered and worn, to Nasa, he radiated an indescribable allure.

“Veil!”

It was Veil! Why was he here? How had he appeared before Nasa? What of the wounds on his body? Had he too been beset by the undead? His stature seemed even slightly larger—how had he managed that? And the ornate staff he wielded—where had it come from? Why did Nasa sense something unusual about it?

Nasa’s eyes widened in disbelief, fixated on Veil. His hopeless mind suddenly sprang back to life, thoughts colliding chaotically, threatening to burst his brain.

Veil, oblivious to Nasa’s inner turmoil, surveyed the dense undead around them. The sheer numbers sent shivers down his spine. He could hardly fathom how just Nasa and Scanorli had held out so far—despite Scanorli’s transformation, Veil’s perception allowed him to recognize his ally.

Having exhausted his ice and fire magic battling Karen, Veil’s remaining power was insufficient against this horde. His only potential shield might be the very object he was reluctant to use.

Slowly, a thread of magic extended and merged into something cradled in Veil’s arms. Suddenly, an overwhelming aura burst forth from Veil—an intensity beyond imagination, forcing the undead to recoil dozens of meters.

Veil blinked, stunned by the effect. The terrifying aura, emanating from the object in his arms, surpassed even his peak power.

“Even if I owe her a favor...” Veil muttered reluctantly. Unsure how long the aura would last, he hurriedly pulled Nasa to his feet and called to the nearby giant beast: “Old man! We need to get out of here, fast!”

“Right!”

Though unclear about the full situation, Scanorli recognized the rare opportunity and charged over. With a massive hand, he scooped up Nasa and Veil. His towering form sprinted at breakneck speed, yet not a single undead dared to intercept them.

From the brink of death moments before, all danger vanished in an instant. Witnessing this surreal turn, both Scanorli and Nasa felt a flicker of disbelief. But there was no time to ponder. Following Veil’s lead, they raced toward the Gate of the Demon Realm as quickly as possible.

“This is it! Hurry! The Gate’s energy is limited. With each use, it fades. I don’t know how much power remains, so we must move fast!” Veil shouted.

Without a word, Scanorli, now a towering beast, let out a low roar and charged fiercely into the Gate of the Demon Realm through the energy array...