The Martial Unity

[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.

his wooden spear

he used the spear, he felt a savage aura envelop his body. It was as though he had entered the jungle

savage grin appearing

the latter could react, the stone blade had already appeared at his neck. In that moment, he really felt he would lose his life. The bloodthirsty pressure emitting from Leonel was no different than one of a predator

quickly, his blackened paw leaving silver streaks in the air

simple task. His claws were no weaker than a C-grade blade. The sight of him dicing

But reality was cruel.

fade as his wrist twisted. With impossible coordination, the werepanther's claw, which had been aimed at the flat of the blade,

upward as though this was the strike

of the werepanther sounded as

his toes almost dug through his

body was like a well oiled engine. Each action was perfectly supported by a supplementary muscle. The tiniest fibers, the weakest ligaments,

truly conscious at this moment, he would realize that his coordination stat had touched upon an

the chest of the roaring werepanther in a flash. He had lost the werehyena due to his interruption,

too sudden. The head of a man turned panther flew into the skies, a fountain of

fell onto Leonel's face. Though the sounds of Aina and the werewolf acted as a backdrop, to the four remaining beastmen around him,

coincidence, a tear of blood fell to the corner of his

it away as though he was savoring the last drop of

finger. It released a searing heat that poured into the primitive

inadvertently took

attached to Leonel's state. It was as though his blood was boiling with excitement instead. He was so excited