Wonderful Insane World-Chapter 100: Three Angles

The monstrous buffalo stood there, massive and imposing, its hooves firmly planted in the mist-soaked earth, as if it had been born from the very ground—or worse, as if it were its guardian.

Its ragged breath escaped in slow, powerful bursts, making the surrounding bamboo tremble. A tense silence hung in the air, thick like a rope stretched to its limit.

Maggie didn’t move. She stared at the creature, standing tall, arms ready to strike again despite the shock of their first clash.

Dylan, crouched behind his rock, caught his breath, his gaze fixed on the red veins pulsing softly along the beast’s flanks. That was the spot. That’s where they needed to strike. But first, they had to reach it.

Meanwhile, Élisa was already slipping around the perimeter, using the shadows and ruins to reposition herself. She said nothing, but her eyes gleamed. She was just waiting for the right moment.

The creature slowly turned its head, as if counting them. It didn’t charge. Not yet. It was waiting.

As if this were a game.

A game where the first one to attack would have to face the consequences.

All this hesitation was just a test—to see which of them would be bold enough to strike first.

"It knows," Maggie muttered without looking away. "It knows we’re not just passing through."

"It knows we’re here to kill it," Dylan replied, rising slightly, his breath short. "And it doesn’t like that."

At once, a deep growl rumbled from the creature. Not a threat—more like an answer.

Then it struck.

Not with a charge this time.

But with a swing of its head.

Its horns split the air, slicing clean through two bamboo stalks that shot toward Élisa like javelins. She leaped aside, rolled into the damp moss, and sprang back up, her cheek scratched by a splinter of wood.

"It’s sniping at us now?!" she shouted, half-terrified, half-fascinated.

Maggie frowned, bent low, then lunged—once, twice—

Her axe struck again, this time lower, aiming for its legs. But the beast pivoted just before impact—the blade bit into its scales without piercing deep.

And it retaliated instantly.

Its hoof slammed into Maggie’s side. A dull thud, followed by a crack. Maggie flew several meters, crashing against a stone slab, the wind knocked out of her.

"Commander!" Dylan roared.

He leaped forward.

But the beast was waiting.

Its tail—a bony mass studded with spikes—shot from the mist and slammed into Dylan’s chest. He tumbled into the mud, his machete skidding away. His breath was ripped from him, as if the earth itself had swallowed it.

He tried to rise. Planting one hand in the wet soil, then the other. His chest screamed in pain, several spikes piercing him—but none had hit anything vital.

Yet the buffalo slowly turned toward him. Without rushing. Almost lazily. As if Dylan were an obstacle it had already neutralized.

It was going to finish the job.

And in that moment, Dylan understood—if he stayed there, if he waited for an opening, for help, for a miracle... he would die.

So he stood back up.

Not entirely straight—he couldn’t manage that yet—but still upright. He lifted his eyes in that brief moment.

And his gaze locked with the creature’s.

He saw no hatred there.

Only weight. Brutal force. A will imbued with savage intelligence.

The beast was an abomination, a mistake of the world. Its two red orbs fixed on Dylan with that same lazy gleam.

And Dylan gritted his teeth.

"You’re underestimating me, bastard."

Normally, Dylan would have liked being underestimated—an opponent who underestimated another was doomed to fail. But with this other will inside him, the one that thrilled at the sight of blood, he felt insulted.

Especially because the beast was right—why fear an enemy who could no longer even wound it?

Dylan clenched his jaw harder.

The taste of iron filled his mouth. His vision wavered. But he had no choice now. If he fell here, he fell alone. And there would be no second chance.

At the same moment, Élisa appeared behind the creature. Wielding her twin daggers, she struck twice, precisely at the joints. Then she slid beneath its belly, dodging a hoof-strike that nearly crushed her.

The monster roared at last.

A true roar this time. Brutal. Visceral. It made the ground tremble.

And Maggie, on her side, was getting back up.

Blood ran from her temple. Her breath was ragged. But her hands... still gripped her axe.

She stepped forward slowly. And shouted, her eyes burning:

"We take it down together. Now!"

Dylan grabbed his machete.

And ran.

The ground shook beneath their steps.

Dylan sprinted, machete raised, teeth clenched. His breath scorched his throat. He wasn’t waiting for an opening—the beast was too cunning to give one.

So he would make one.

Élisa was already darting from side to side, her daggers glinting in the mist. She struck, dodged, taunted the beast like a serpent provoking a giant.

But how much did it take for a giant to get annoyed enough to finally crush the snake under its heavy hooves?

Not much, apparently...

And then there was Maggie... Maggie charged head-on.

Like she always did.

She didn’t slow down. She screamed, axe in hand, and struck with full force, driven by muscle and fury.

The axe hit.

This time, it didn’t slide. It bit deep—though the blade was stopped by bone.

A dull impact rang out, followed by a distorted shriek from the creature.

It took a single step back.

But that was enough.

Dylan finally lunged, ducked under a raised hoof, and drove his machete into the wound Maggie had opened. The metal sank in with a wet sound, widening the gash.

The beast roared in anger—a raw, almost pained sound. Its metallic voice seemed to shatter the air.

And its tail lashed out.

But Élisa had anticipated it.

She jumped, twisted midair, landed on the creature’s back, and drove her blade into its neck.

But the beast reared. Its entire spine bristled, hurling Élisa backward. She rolled violently into the mud, her ribs taking the brunt of the fall.

Maggie tried to press the attack, but this time, the buffalo struck first. Its head slammed into the ground, a shockwave splitting the stone and hurling her back several meters. She landed hard, arms splayed, breath gone.

Dylan was the only one left standing.

The monster turned its red eyes on him, brighter now. As if it were warming up. As if it were starting to enjoy this.

Dylan snarled. His hand was bloody. His machete barely stayed in his grip.

"Still not enough for you, huh..."

He ran like he had nothing left to lose.

He screamed like he was tearing his own throat apart.

And struck again.

The blade sliced into its flank with a wet hiss—but not deep enough. Still, it was enough to anger it. The beast retaliated, sweeping its horns through the air. Dylan barely dodged, but his leg betrayed him. He stumbled.

The tail shot toward him.

But this time, it didn’t hit.

A stone? A dagger? It was hard to tell—but something streaked through the air at high speed, striking the base of the tail just in time.

It was clearly Élisa’s doing—the golden-eyed elf was back.

And Maggie, too, was rising again.

Blood covered her face, but her axe still gleamed in her hand.

"One more time!" she roared.

They struck together.

Dylan from the right. Maggie head-on. Élisa from above, leaping off a broken pillar.

Three strikes. Three angles.

Three wills.

For the first time, the beast stepped back.

Not out of strategy—but out of pain, so sharp that it struggled to react under their relentless assault.

And it growled. But this time, the sound was deeper, as if pain, rage, and irritation had fused into a single outburst.

Like a promise.

A threat.

It crouched low. Its four horns grazed the ground. Its back arched. Its hide cracked.

And then... something changed.

The red veins pulsed harder.

Faster.

As if the beast... was unleashing itself.

As if the real fight was only beginning now.

Dylan felt his heart clench.

And murmured:

"We pissed it off."

They had pissed it off.

And that was good.

Because from the start, they hadn’t just been trying to kill it. All three of them knew none of them could take it down in this state... They had tried, but in the end, they had been guiding it.

Step by step.

Blow by blow. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

Like luring a colossus into a trapped arena.

They hadn’t moved randomly. Every dodged charge, every attack angle, every tactical retreat... had pushed it in a precise direction. And now, the creature stood exactly where they wanted it.

Right there.

At the center of what they had prepared.

Élisa slipped through the mist toward one of the ancient stone pillars. Discreet. Cracked at its base. And yet... connected by an almost invisible line to two other steles arranged in a triangle.

The ground seemed stable.

But beneath... it was hollow. Fragile. Weakened by moisture, by the roots they had cut with their blades. They had even dampened the earth further, hours before, so that at the right moment...

It would collapse.