Wonderful Insane World-Chapter 97: Day before

"Or, a less bloody alternative: you learn to set chains before the fangs come out."

Dylan didn’t know what to say. He looked at them both, one after the other. They were both right, but he knew that right now, time was the one thing he didn’t have.

What he felt inside wasn’t as clear-cut. It wasn’t a beast slumbering. It wasn’t a voice screaming. It was more subtle. Softer, even. Like a slow poison seeping into his breath, his thoughts, his memories.

As if... she was using what he already was.

He hated it.

He stood up abruptly, brushing the dust off his knees.

"Whatever she wants, she won’t get it."

Maggie stared at him for a long moment, then nodded without a word.

Elisa stood too, dusting off her coat, and added in a lighter tone:

"Well, on those heroic words... shall we talk about what we’re hunting today?"

Maggie stepped forward like she’d been waiting all morning for this exact moment.

"Three of the creatures we spotted yesterday. Two standard third-ranks... and one Awakened."

Dylan clenched his jaw.

Maggie pointed to a black circle marked in charcoal on the map.

"That’s the one we’re after."

"Of course it is," he muttered.

Elisa gave him a wink. "Courage, papa."

He shot her a glare.

But he said nothing.

Because deep down... a part of him wasn’t quite sure anymore if she was joking.

⸻

The sun had risen timidly, filtering through the banks of mist like an intruder the forest refused to welcome. But the trio didn’t let it stretch far before they were already on the move.

Even with their growing confidence and coordination, they took no unnecessary risks. For now, they targeted accessible prey — two standard third-rank creatures they had tracked the day before, isolated enough to be taken down without too much complication.

They didn’t speak much. Even the air seemed to know what was coming.

Tomorrow was the full moon.

And time was against them.

They needed anima gems. As many as possible. The demoness wouldn’t wait — if anything, she was probably enjoying watching them squirm like worms in ash.

But they also knew that hunting one by one wouldn’t be enough to bridge the gap. The power Dylan needed to absorb to stand a real chance — a true chance — far exceeded anything standard prey could offer.

So after these two, they would face an Awakened.

That was the plan. Unspoken, but etched in silence.

And if, after that, they were still standing — if they survived — they’d change the game.

The trio moved through the ancient gravestones and crumbled tombs with careful, quiet steps.

Their boots sank lightly into the black moss, damp from the morning fog. No birdsong. No wind. Just the soft scraping of damp stone beneath their soles.

Except for Elisa, whose bare feet were almost soundless, even at their brisk pace.

Maggie led, her axe clutched tightly in one hand, eyes fixed ahead. She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to — every step she took was a decision.

Dylan followed, slightly behind. Since the dream, something in the way he moved had changed: more controlled, more alert, like he was watching for a threat both inside and out.

Elisa took the rear, daggers in hand, eyes scanning constantly for movement among the ruins.

The first target revealed itself quickly.

A carrion hound, tall as an ox, its hide covered in open sores, crawling with flies that didn’t seem to bother it. It lurked near a shattered burial mound, gnawing at the bones of some long-dead warrior with massive, splintered teeth.

Maggie stopped, lowered herself slightly. She gave a nod.

Unfortunately, Dylan understood.

It was his turn this time.

He inhaled, resigned deep within, and moved off to the left, circling around a cracked headstone, slipping into the creature’s blind spot. At five meters, the hound lifted its head. Two bloodshot, black-ringed eyes locked onto him.

It lunged.

But Dylan was ready.

He ducked under its open maw, drove his machete into its right flank — where he knew the flesh would be softer — and leapt back. The beast howled, spun to retaliate—

But Maggie struck next. In a brutal arc, straight at the base of the skull.

The dull crunch of bone echoed through the ruins.

The hound collapsed in a heap of mindless flesh. One last rasp escaped its lungs, then silence.

Elisa was already moving. Without a word, she plunged her hand into the still-warm chest cavity, searching for the gem. She yanked it free in one wet, pulsing motion.

"One down," she said simply.

They didn’t linger. They didn’t even pause to breathe. The blood hadn’t yet cooled on the stones before they were moving again.

The second target was craftier. A black-shelled stalker, hidden in the shadows of a collapsed mausoleum. It didn’t attack head-on. It waited. It tested. The kind of creature you didn’t surprise — you provoked it.

Maggie walked slowly, deliberately, into its line of sight.

The monster barely moved. Just a flicker in its four eyes. Its tail slapped the stone once.

Then it pounced.

But it was a feint. It vanished instantly into a swirl of black dust.

"Shit," Dylan muttered. Elisa turned, blades raised.

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The stalker had rebounded off a gravestone, leaping to the opposite side.

But this time, Maggie had anticipated it. She hurled her axe with full force.

The blade spun through the air, vibrating like a crow’s wing, and slammed into the beast’s side.

...And it hit.

But not as expected.

Instead of cutting deep, the blade ricocheted off a thicker chitin plate. A sharp, metallic thud echoed — not the sound of slicing flesh, but of steel scraping over armor.

The monster hissed, skidding sideways, but caught itself immediately. It rolled over its side, bounded onto the nearest stone, and spun with feline speed. Its segmented tail whistled as it sliced the air.

Maggie barely had time to raise her arm. The strike threw her to the ground, her sleeve ripped clean through.

Dylan sprinted — too late.

The stalker lunged toward Elisa, who was already diving beneath a gravestone.

Its claw came down, missing her skull by inches but grazing her shoulder. She cried out, twisted, and stabbed blindly. The creature recoiled, snarling — hurt, but far from finished.

Dylan finally reached them. He swung his machete in a sharp arc — the blade skidded along the shell but bit into the rear joint. He felt the hit — a soft give beneath the armor.

"He’s fast..." he growled, backing off.

Maggie was already up, blood running down her arm, eyes burning with fury. Her axe was gone. But her fists were ready. She charged without hesitation.

Elisa, dazed but conscious, pulled herself up. The beast turned again, watching, calculating. It was adapting.

It was just a lower-rank beast.

But it was intelligent.

And that... changed everything.