Wonderful Insane World-Chapter 103: Just a Man

Dylan collapsed alongside the beast.

Everything had happened so quickly that Élisa felt as if she had been torn from the scene, disconnected from the flow of action. She had seen it—that moment when Dylan changed. That moment when he launched himself at the creature with a fury that was no longer human. Then... he had gutted it with his bare hands. And collapsed with it.

She remained frozen for a brief instant. A second of cold in her muscles, her breath caught in shock.

But she wouldn’t stay that way.

Not now.

Not after what she’d just witnessed.

She knew Maggie too well. And she already sensed what was forming in her mind.

What they had all feared from the beginning—that tipping point, that loss of control. The state into which Dylan had just plunged... was precisely what they had sought to avoid.

And if Maggie deemed him lost...

Then she would act.

Without hesitation.

Without waiting for him to wake up.

Without giving him the slightest chance.

Aware of all this, Élisa felt she had to move. She had to reach Dylan before Maggie. Be the first. Check if he was still there, if he had any shred of lucidity left. If so... then perhaps there was still a choice.

If not...

Then Maggie would do what she had to do.

Élisa leapt.

The pit wasn’t that deep—you could still see the buffalo’s head crushed on the edge—but deep enough to swallow a good part of its mass... and Dylan with it.

Her steps were silent, but she raced at full speed.

Yet she never reached the edge.

A violent impact tore her from her trajectory.

Maggie had just struck her with all her strength, a brutal shoulder blow that hurled her through the bamboo.

Élisa rolled, bounced, and crashed heavily against a trunk. Her breath was knocked out by the force of the impact, and the world turned blurry...

When she lifted her head, she saw her... Maggie, that arrogant bitch, already advancing toward the edge of the pit, axe in hand, like an executioner taking her time to approach her target.

Which was none other than Dylan.

"Shit... that bitch is going to kill him..." she growled, her voice strangled by pain.

She arched, tried to rise, her arms trembling. Her fingers dug into the damp earth. Blood ran down her forehead. She crawled. Belly against the ground. Her face contorted with rage.

"Stop, bitch...!" she tried to scream.

But her voice came out as a broken rasp, almost inaudible.

She saw Maggie stop at the edge. She raised her axe.

And in the silence, Élisa had nothing but her nails in the earth. And helplessness clinging to her gut.

Élisa kept crawling, her elbows scraping the soaked ground, her fingers clutching the moss as if she could anchor her breath to the soil. Pain made her gasp in fits, her heart pounding in her temples, and yet... she moved forward.

In front of her, Maggie stood frozen at the edge of the pit.

Her dark, massive silhouette, towering over the corpse and Dylan. The axe raised. High. Very high. Without any hesitation in her arms. No emotion on her face. Just... decision. That damn weight of responsibility.

She was going to strike.

Élisa saw it. She felt it in every fiber of her being.

"No... no no no...!"

She pulled herself further, her knees scraping the stone, her breath breaking in her throat. She wanted to scream. Run. Bite. Something. But her body no longer obeyed.

And at the moment the axe began to descend—

A voice cut through the air.

Harsh. Deep. Raspy like burnt wood.

"You don’t touch my gem."

A silence fell abruptly, hard and sharp.

Even the invisible birds in the mist fell silent.

The voice continued, lower. More tense.

"I killed it. It’s mine."

Maggie didn’t move.

But her fingers, they tightened slightly on the handle.

Élisa slowly lifted her head, panting, her eyes wide open.

And at the bottom of the pit, between the eviscerated flesh and the black mud...

Dylan was standing, his back hunched and his muscles trembling, his irises returning to their usual color, and shining with a will that made even the usually stoic Maggie shiver.

Maggie didn’t retreat. But she didn’t strike either. Her axe remained raised, frozen in the air, and yet, something had just broken. Not in her, no. Not entirely. But in the balance.

That moment, that brief suspended instant where she still held the power to decide, to strike... had just been torn from her.

By a voice. By pure will.

By him.

That Dylan.

She blinked slowly. Her fist clenched on the weapon’s handle. Her breath remained steady, perfectly controlled. But her eyes, they searched the survivor’s face—for a clue. A sign of tipping. A remnant of demon. A latent danger.

But what she saw...

Was just a man.

A man standing in the mud, his torso lacerated, his shoulder still pierced by a broken horn, his face streaming with a black blood that wasn’t entirely his.

And human eyes. A tired gray, but still burning, and still human.

The axe slowly descended. Not in a striking motion, this time in a gesture of release.

She let the blade fall against her shoulder. A dull sound, muffled by the fabric, resonated in the air.

"Another fine missed opportunity to kill you, bastard," she muttered.

Dylan didn’t respond immediately. He didn’t even move.

But his eyes twisted with his lips into a sinister grin, his voice calm, almost mocking.

"Sorry to disappoint you, commander."

Élisa, panting, had propped herself up on an elbow. She no longer tried to move forward. Her arms couldn’t support her anymore. But she watched. Motionless. Witness to the scene with her guts boiling like in a cauldron.

Maggie slowly descended into the pit. Not to attack. But to verify.

Her boots sank into the soft flesh of the corpse. The smell of essence and mixed blood rose immediately, dense, heavy, saturated with energy.

She approached, unafraid, and looked up at Dylan.

They stared at each other. For a long time. Without a word.

And finally... she nodded.

Not in agreement. Nor out of any respect. Not really, it wasn’t her style.

It was just an acknowledgment.

You got it.

So take it.

She stepped back.

And Dylan... finally lowered his eyes to the corpse. To the spot where, under layers of muscle, somewhere in the eviscerated ribcage...

A gem still faintly pulsed.

His first awakened beast gem.

The price of battle.