Wonderful Insane World-Chapter 56: First to Find, First to Own

They followed the tracks in silence, senses on high alert.

Weapons ready, always within reach—ready to slice, pierce, strike whatever dared to lunge from the shadows.

But they weren’t hunting to kill.

These beasts... judging by the sheer number of tracks, they were likely pack creatures. And the trio wasn’t there to play suicidal heroes.

They wanted to understand them, observe them, maybe even find their camp—if luck was on their side. Or at least their rally point.

The goal was to avoid the fight. Not charge straight into it.

They also had to move fast. The sun was beating down hard, and the mud was drying before their eyes. The footprints were fading, blending into the cracked ground.

Dylan followed Maggie step for step, focused. Élisa did her best to keep up, but it was getting harder by the second.

The commander was simply untouchable.

She didn’t run—on the contrary. She glided. Her body moved to a rhythm more advanced than theirs. As if the ground didn’t weigh anything beneath her feet.

At times, Dylan swore she sped up without actually moving faster. Like she was carried by her own momentum, by some internal mechanism he, a mere mortal, could only watch with frustration.

She didn’t even look at her feet.

Her gaze swept the horizon, the trees, the branches. Every leaf’s twitch, every whisper in the air was a clue to her.

And the others? They just did their best to follow.

As they pushed deeper into the forest, they found strange claw marks on the trunks.

Nothing surprising in a forest like this—beasts marked their territory, everyone knew that—but it still left a bitter bile in their stomachs every time they saw them.

Like the gouges still oozed something wild... something malevolent.

Scars on living trees.

But the surprises weren’t over.

Little by little, the claw marks were joined by something else.

Tufts of fur, wedged between bark.

And further ahead...

Blood.

Not pools of it. But droplets. Thin trails, sometimes spattered on leaves, sometimes sprayed against a trunk.

Signs of a struggle.

Dylan crouched, brushed his fingers over one of the still-wet spots.

"It’s fresh," he murmured.

His voice barely carried. The forest felt frozen. Suspended. Like it was holding its breath.

Maggie knelt beside him.

"They fought someone here..."

She pointed to a broken branch, messier, erratic prints heading toward denser growth.

"And one... no, more than one of them was wounded."

Élisa went pale. Her face twisted with uncertainty.

"Can we stop this hunt? I’ve got a bad feeling about it."

Maggie stood up and resumed walking without a word. But this time, her pace had changed.

She seemed tense.

And Dylan, despite himself, tightened his grip on his weapon.

They kept following the trail, but the further they went... the worse it got.

Much worse.

A putrid stench settled over them. Heavy. Sticky. The kind that crept into your nose and stayed there, like invisible poison.

Dylan clenched his jaw. Élisa covered her mouth with a scrap of cloth, eyes watering. Even Maggie furrowed her brows.

Around them, countless flies buzzed, swarming like a living warning. They darted around every chunk of carcass they found.

And there were plenty.

But in pieces.

Simple remains.

A chunk of jaw still bearing fangs. A half-shredded clawed paw. Shards of bone with bits of meat clinging to them.

All scattered like some macabre puzzle.

Even the ground looked wounded. Dark, thick, viscous drops... acidic. Where the fluid had spilled, the wood was scorched, blackened. Even the moss had melted, leaving a metallic-burnt smell.

Then came the footprints.

Massive steps. Deep. Heavier than anything they’d seen so far. And alongside them, strange marks.

Like dragged claws or folded wings sliding through the mud. Or maybe a gigantic tail.

Maggie froze.

Her eyes locked on a fresher print, sharper than the rest.

Then, slowly, she exhaled:

"We weren’t the only ones following this trail."

Silence fell.

Not out of hesitation.

But because suddenly... everything was too quiet.

Then they heard it. Something massive crushing a branch behind them.

A sharp crack, followed by the heavy rustle of leaves.

All three froze.

Instantly.

The kind of stillness that isn’t a decision—but a primal reflex.

Heart pounding. Skin tingling. Guts knotting up.

Like their bodies were screaming at them to run... but something deeper was forcing them to stay.

Maggie, tense, breath shallow, managed to move a fraction.

She tried to turn slowly, slowly... just enough to glance over her shoulder.

Her fingers barely trembled on the handle of her axe.

Dylan had already turned.

And what he saw stole his breath.

A creature, as big as a horse, moved between the trees.

Its muscular body seemed coated in thick, dark scales—like living armor.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

It was its head.

Massive and monstrously wide. And in its jaws... the limp, broken body of a moonfang. Like it was nothing but a snack.

The monster’s jaws closed slowly.

Craaaack...

The gruesome sound of bones crushed, shattered beneath a bite strong enough to snap a tree trunk.

Then its eyes locked onto Dylan’s.

And in that moment...

Dylan felt like nothing.

Not a hunter. Not even a survivor. Just a thing waiting to be ended.

A sack of bones with some blood inside.

The beast blinked slowly, as if weighing him.

A pause.

Then it lowered its head slightly.

And another sound rose—deeper, more guttural. A growl... no, a rumble.

Vibrating. Low. Like a living engine of war.

Élisa stiffened.

Maggie raised her weapon.

"Back up... slowly," she whispered, voice tight.

But it was too late.

The creature had spotted fresh prey.

And it was already hungry.

...And suddenly, everything flipped.

The creature lunged.

A burst of muscle and mass tearing through the air with a deafening whoosh. The ground shook beneath its paws, spraying wet earth in all directions.

Maggie shouted,

"SCATTER!"

But it was already too late.

A brutal, relentless swing of its tail sliced through the air. Dylan felt the impact before he even saw it. A searing pain tore through him as he was thrown several meters, the wind knocked out of him, his back scraping across roots and stones.

Élisa screamed—more in fear than fury—and vanished behind a bush just as the monster charged straight at Maggie.