Wonderful Insane World-Chapter 101: Unleashed

To prepare such a trap had taken them time. Patience. And a careful reading of the terrain.

They had studied the area. Scouted it in turns at different times of the day, measuring the thickness of the mist, the paths most traveled, the way the essence reflected in the air. They had watched the creature’s movements, analyzed its patterns, the way it slithered through the bamboo.

And finally, they had settled on this idea.

The pit.

It wasn’t placed deep within the fog — that would’ve been far too risky, too difficult to control. No, it lay at the margins, where the mist grew thinner, lighter. A transitional zone, right between the dense shroud of fog and the hazy clarity of the more exposed stone fields.

A deceptively treacherous place.

Because emerging from the mist, it might seem like a clearing. A path. A chance.

But that was the mistake.

And had the beast not been so confident, so furious, so focused on her attackers... maybe she would’ve noticed it.

But she hadn’t.

She charged straight in. Blinded by rage and carried by her own weight.

And now, she was in it.

Her left flank had sunk first, throwing off her balance. Her weight shattered the weakened soil. Her hooves slipped across the wet stones and moss-slicked mud.

She tried to rise.

But her movement, too forceful, collapsed the ground further.

One leg sank deeper.

She growled, a mix of fury and raw survival instinct.

But it was already too late.

She was trapped.

Not completely. Not fully immobilized. But slowed. Restricted. Her range of motion was crushed, her defense fractured.

And that... was all they needed.

Dylan gripped his chipped machete — his half-weapon, one that had survived so many fights with him — and charged at the beast now caught in the trap.

Maggie repositioned her axe on her shoulder, breathing heavy, but pushing herself forward. She wanted to be the one to end this.

That was the deal: once the beast was cornered, the anima gem would go to the one who dealt the killing blow.

So all three wanted to be its executioner.

Élisa snapped her daggers shut in her palms and advanced on silent, swift feet.

For the first time, the group was in true competition — and for something that might actually be worth it.

⸻

The creature let out a low, guttural roar and doubled down in its struggle.

Every muscle in its back tensed beneath the carapace, its pulsing veins glowed beneath layers of thick flesh. It didn’t want to die here. Not in a hole. Not like this.

That wasn’t worthy of it. A third-rank demon beast — awakened, no less.

But they weren’t about to let it escape either.

Third rank or not, awakened or not, it was their prey.

Dylan struck first.

He darted to the left flank, where the leg had collapsed, and drove his machete into the gap between two bone plates — the sound of tearing flesh followed by a choked, guttural scream. The beast reared back, a chunk of earth flying up beneath it.

Maggie launched herself in the same breath, raising her axe higher than she had in years, aiming for the back of the skull. The strike would be hard — but not impossible. She brought it down with both arms locked. The blade sank halfway... then jammed.

A wave of hot breath exploded in her face. She gritted her teeth, stumbled back, almost lost her footing.

Élisa appeared next, smooth, quick, deadlier than ever. For the first time, she was completely in her element — a huntress closing in on prey caught in the snare.

She climbed the beast’s back, using its bony ridges as footholds, and struck — once, twice — into the glowing veins. She was hunting the rupture point. She wanted the gem.

And the beast... understood.

Its aura shifted.

Something pulsed — in its heart, in its skull — and a moment later it screamed so loud the ground itself recoiled. A brutal wave rippled out in all directions, throwing Maggie to the ground, forcing Dylan back, and knocking Élisa into a messy tumble.

⸻

The beast no longer roared.

It trembled.

Its whole body pulsed with an essence unbound, chaotic, wild. Its glowing veins throbbed faster and harder, like arteries ready to burst. Cracks split its flesh, revealing black, searing muscle beneath.

And then — it exploded.

Not into pieces.

Into power.

Its form jerked upright, breaking the last edges of the trap with a crash of stone and earth. Dust flew in all directions. The creature... was growing. Its back arched higher. Its horns twisted, thicker, sharper.

Its gaze... wasn’t just feral anymore.

It had gone mad.

An awakened beast pushed to the edge of instinct. A monster forged in pain and now shaped into a storm. It flailed like a force of nature, no longer seeing friend or foe. Only targets. Everything. Anything.

And Dylan...

Dylan didn’t move.

He had taken the full blast of that rage — an invisible scream laced with corrupted energy — and he stood still, machete lowered, gaze blank.

Then his irises... vanished.

No more grey. No more trace of humanity. Just a blank white, washed clean of thought. fɾēewebnσveℓ.com

His body arched backward grotesquely. His nails stretched into curved claws. And in the same instant — he snapped back upright.

His hollow eyes locked onto something.

And he lunged.

It wasn’t running. Dylan had never moved this fast. Not even beasts of the savannah could move like this.

He darted forward in one fluid, rapid, savage motion — not toward Maggie, nor Élisa. He didn’t care about those two waifs.

But the beast — fat, massive, and ripe.

His breath was ragged. Not like a man running — but like an animal in pursuit.

And in his mind... only one thought remained.

This wasn’t an enemy. It was prey.

He hurled himself at its side, clambering up with his bare hands, machete already in motion before he knew he’d drawn it. He struck. Again. Again. Not with precision. Not with style. But with hunger.

A deep, savage, animal hunger.

The more blood spilled, the more his hunger — and euphoria — surged.

Metal tore through flesh. Blood splattered. Dylan didn’t fall back. Even as the beast reared. Even as it tried to crush him. He clung to it. Like a fang sunk into nerve.

Maggie, still on the ground, stared up at the scene, breath shallow, eyes locked on Dylan.

"He..."

But she didn’t finish.

Élisa had also risen, panting, and she too watched him. Dylan no longer looked like Dylan.

He was a predator.

A shard of the demoness.

And yet...

He was hitting true. He was hitting hard.

And the beast... wasn’t going down that easily.