Dimensional Descent

[Author's Note: I think there was a bit of a misunderstanding from the last chapter. The Brazinger Clan isn't a werewolf clan, though I can see now how that could be the conclusion you guys would make. I won't say anymore, I prefer to explain via the story's narrative]

The man's face distorted. The cracks to his bones and teeth healed as his nose became a snout and his hands gained claws.

The clothes on his back tore to shreds, revealing a tight compression suit that covered much of his fur.

Though all six were weremen, the beasts they morphed into were completely different. While the man who wielded Aina's ax seemed to be crossbred with a wolf, one seemed more akin to a fox, another looked more like a hyena with gross colored yellow fur. In addition, there was a panther, a cheetah-like man, and finally a … rat?

Of all the men, there was one who instead of growing in size shrank instead. In addition, the boosts to his stats were the most minimal. However, when Leonel's gaze landed on him, the blaring sounds of warning shot through his mind.

Leonel couldn't understand where this warning was coming from. He was certain that he didn't have such an ability. So what was going on?

Unfortunately, there wasn't time to think about it. The werewolf's howl had come to an end, fiendish growls and dripping saliva fell from his sharp teeth, a crazed glare piercing toward Aina.

He gripped Aina's ax, his muscles pushing against his compression clothing like tightened steel cords. The power brimming in his body was simply unimaginable.

His and Aina's gazes collided in the air before they simultaneously shot forward, fury painting both of their features.

Leonel no longer hung back. He was already not far from the group after his initial charge. In addition, it was in none of their best interests for this battle to drag on.

As though in tacit agreement, none of them used their Force. If they did so and caused an Invalid horde to make their way here… They wouldn't even know how they died.

hesitating, his wooden spear

had expected it to be no more than a normal strike. But, the moment he used the spear, he felt a savage aura envelop his body. It was as though he had entered the jungle once more, and this man before him was not a man, but

a savage grin appearing on

blade had already appeared at his neck. In that moment, he really felt he would lose his life. The bloodthirsty pressure emitting from

appeared before the werehyena's throat. The werepanther had reacted quickly, his blackened paw leaving silver

a simple task. His claws were no weaker than a C-grade blade. The sight of him dicing up the stone blade of Leonel's monkey weapon had already played in his mind

But reality was cruel.

grin didn't fade as his wrist twisted. With impossible coordination, the werepanther's claw, which had been aimed at the flat of the blade, was

swept upward as though this was the strike he wanted to levy

the werepanther sounded as three of his bestial

him time to retreat. His hips swung, his legs flexed, his toes almost

was perfectly supported by a supplementary muscle. The tiniest fibers, the weakest

realize

flash. He

flew into the skies, a fountain

Leonel's face. Though the sounds of Aina and the werewolf acted as a backdrop, to the four remaining beastmen around him, it felt like the world

back toward the four. Maybe by coincidence, a tear

as though he was savoring

vibrated excitedly on his finger. It released a searing heat that poured into the

inadvertently took a

felt like the temperature was steadily rising, but there was clearly no fire ability attached to Leonel's state. It was as though his blood was boiling with excitement instead. He was so excited to kill them that steam was emitting from his body, covering the air around him in a