Wonderful Insane World-Chapter 71: Chaotic Ballet

These small humanoid creatures were nothing like the first one they’d encountered.

The others had only two short horns on their foreheads, and their tails — much shorter — barely dragged behind them.

They were agile, leaping from tree to tree to surround the trio, then dropping to the ground without the slightest hesitation.

Despite their size, they landed almost silently — as if they’d done it their whole lives.

Bit by bit, they tightened the circle around Dylan and his companions, creeping forward like little macaques.

But their laughter...

Their laughter never stopped.

A sinister giggle, punctuated by sharp cracks — like a whip — every time the one with the long horns snapped his tail through the air.

Dylan was starting to believe that tail was more dangerous than all their claws combined.

He exhaled slowly, a wave of heat pouring from his body.

Then he spread his legs, planted his feet into the dirt — ready to take the first hit. freeωebnovēl.c૦m

Inside his chest, something began to thrum.

His ribs vibrated like a boiler on the edge of rupture. His heart pounded faster, syncing with the furious rhythm of his adrenaline.

A surge of spirit essence erupted within him, overflowing like a river freed from a dam.

It flooded his body, bringing with it a raw, untamed power.

His gray eyes lit up with a cold gleam.

In front of him, six of the creatures moved.

Two leapt back into the trees, agile and fast, while the remaining four charged straight at them — claws forward, aiming for their throats.

But Dylan and his companions reacted instantly.

Their speed, amplified by the shock of their awakened cores, far exceeded anything they’d shown before.

One of the creatures lunged straight at Dylan, claws reaching for his eyes.

With a sharp reflex, Dylan raised his leg and struck it square in the gut. The hit was sharp. Brutal.

That single opening was all he needed.

He raised his machete.

Then, without hesitation, he slashed — a quick, slicing whistle through the air — and brought it down.

The metal sliced through flesh effortlessly.

The creature’s body split apart, dark blood splashing across the ground.

Élisa had stayed behind Dylan, hidden in his shadow — not out of fear, but strategy. She was waiting for her moment.

When another demon lunged straight at him, jaws wide open, she moved without hesitation.

She shot forward, slipped to the side like an arrow, and drove both daggers into the creature’s chest just as it landed. The hit was clean, brutal, precise.

The beast let out a strangled grunt and collapsed, impaled through and through.

Before the body even hit the ground, Maggie joined the fray.

She hadn’t moved until now — she had watched, gauged — but now the tempo had changed.

She spun in one swift motion, a wide, controlled arc.

Her axe traced a perfect curve through the air... and sliced clean through the head of a demon that tried to sneak up from behind.

Blood burst in a spray, but Maggie didn’t stop. She was already ready for the next.

The first blood had been spilled.

And with it, chaos erupted.

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The last of the four that had charged from the ground now hesitated.

He was gauging them, claws twitching, eyes darting from point to point.

But when he caught sight of his two comrades swinging down from the trees, soaring between vines with eerie grace — something in him snapped.

A wild click.

He let out a sharp cry — half roar, half shriek — and hurled himself into the fight like a desperate projectile.

And behind him... the others followed.

A tide.

Howling. Twisted.

A wave of broken laughter and pure hate crashing down on the trio in a storm of bone and claw.

The ones leaping from vine to vine were the worst.

They swung like deranged pendulums, bodies spinning, heads upside down, claws aimed at the earth.

Like hanging blades.

Flying traps, ready to shred with every pass.

They aimed for throats. Eyes. Arteries.

They struck to kill — and they laughed as they did it.

And yet, Dylan, Élisa, and Maggie were no easy prey.

Ever since they’d climbed those trees, they’d been watching. Waiting.

Now that the ambush had closed in around them, the claws began to slice their skin.

Their clothes, already torn from the jungle’s brutality, shredded under the constant barrage.

And their skin — hardened by the awakening of their cores — tore far easier than they’d expected.

The little beasts cackled.

Every wound, every drop of blood, seemed to excite them more.

But the trio held strong.

Their bodies, now driven by this new energy, struck back with animal precision.

And their weapons — weapons strengthened by the Rivernyx — cut through the air like it was nothing.

Blades blessed by the river.

Blades sharpened to absurd perfection.

Every strike landed. Every move tore a scream, an arm, a head.

They didn’t strike to survive — they struck to dominate. To annihilate.

And it was Maggie who first attempted to break the encirclement.

She was no longer just a fighter.

She charged — not like a trained warrior, but like a storm of muscle and rage.

A tempest with an axe. She tore through the space in front of her, cleaving two skulls and slashing a torso in a single, monstrous swing.

Claws raked her, cut her arms, her side — but she didn’t slow down.

She charged forward, her brown eyes turned red with fury, her teeth clenched tight.

She carved out a breach.

It wasn’t clean, not really. But it was bloody. And real.

And behind her, Dylan and Élisa prepared to follow.

Dylan seized the opening without hesitation.

His machete whipped through the air like a ribbon of black steel, lashing between two demons like a living whip — flexible, lethal.

The air bent around the blade.

A dry snap of vibration.

Then flesh gave way.

The two creatures were split open, torsos cleaved, eyes wide in a laughter that never got the chance to end.

He slipped into Maggie’s wake, breathing hard, but eyes locked forward.

Élisa followed right behind him — fluid, fast — her daggers dancing between her fingers.

She carved through the fray like a slicing shadow, emerging just behind Dylan.

The trio moved now in a broken line, like a single entity.

They didn’t think.

They didn’t hesitate.

They struck, dodged, adapted — a chaotic, visceral ballet at the heart of the jungle.

And every step they gained through that flood of claws and fangs screamed one thing:

Move forward — or die here, devoured by creatures starving for your flesh and your blood.