Chapter 79: Monster.

With one foot stepping on the fence which I leaned on I looked over the crowd that had gathered on the streets beneath. All wielding some form of weapon be it sickles and axes to torches.

'Just what the fuck happened here...?'

Even with my "experiences" the sight of the streets disturbed me to no end. It wasnt just havoc. It was like a localized apocalypse. Corpses littered the streets, brutalized and even with patches of fur and some with bestial teeth and claws, their eyes wide open even as corpses, likely that they died in agony.

The smell, no, the stench invaded my nose, burning and rotting flesh, also a SICKENINGLY sweet smell. Broken carriages were left out on the streets, locked and heavily secured coffins were tipped over. It was easy to imagine this scene as a once peaceful and bustling street of old London.

Now- books, clothes, boxes, barrels, planks were scattered across the streets, a complete mayhem. Several houses were on fire, even worse were the goddam flaming crucifixes scattered around the streets. It was like an insane church mob had passed through the streets, setting houses of heretics aflame and crucifying the others.

The sight alone made Lordran seem like heaven. At least there everything was mindless undead, it was a wasteland there, filled with death and decay but this place.

This place was just a pandemonium of insanity.

And it was my job as a goddam improvised janitor to clean it up.

Transforming my axe into its two-handed form I jumped up from the railings while twirling my axe above my head before coming down like a guillotine on one of the poor sods that were a part of the mob, the blow split him clean in half and buried my axe into the ground beneath his feet.

This obviously drew the attention of his fellow mobs. And as much as I hate to admit it I am at a disadvantage here.

Although I am extremely experienced with life and death situations, without my skill assisting me I hate to admit it but. I am not very skilled at wielding weapons.

I am just decent. After all 99% percent of the opponents, I faced really didn't require any skill with your weapon other than being able to align your edge. The only opponent I would need weapon skills against was Ornstein. And in that fight, the gap between was so ridiculously large that that wouldn't have mattered anyway.

As unbelievably fucked up as it may be, my skills were mostly geared toward brute force. The biggest thing that shows that is none other than my own unique fighting style. The Mad Hollow Combat.

In my head, the only way to beat a monster was to fight like a monster. And while that wasn't exactly wrong, it has left me in a very awkward situation.

I am rather lacking in pure skill with weapons. Although with bare hands it is a completely different case as I demonstrated with the werewolf. I am fairly certain that there isn't anyone that I have met before that can beat me in hand-to-hand combat.

That though, didn't mean that I was incapable of handling these bags of meat in any way shape, or form. It just meant that I would have to relearn how to actually use a weapon and not just shoot giant pillars of flame out of it like I belonged in the saber class.

The moment I snapped out of my distracted thoughts I was barely able to react to a pitchfork coming to my face by leaning to the side and kicking the legs under the offender- making them fall face first. After that, I ducked to narrowly avoid an axe heading to where my face used to be.

All of the mob turned toward me, torches, pitchforks, axes, and all manners of weapons pointed at me. A scene too familiar to me but to my shock, I heard them speak.

"Death upon ya!" "Filthy beast!" "Beast! A foul beast!" "I'll mash up your brain!"

And then I saw their eyes. Madness, complete madness, I could see the insanity hidden beneath their clouded lenses. Yet their shouts still affected me.

*BANG!*

I felt a sharp jolt in my side. I turned to look behind me and saw a townsman holding a gun that was smoking. But before I could fully react I heard someone shouting next to me "I'll rip you apart you fuckin Beast!" before a sickle was dug into my shoulder.

Turning, I slammed my foot into the enemy's chest, sending them back. I wasnt in the best mental state of fighting as this was the first time I had been met with this much hostility and dialogue from an enemy.

Most of those I found were mindless hollows or close to it. Now fighting actual townspeople was not something I was used to. I didn't even know why they were attacking me in the first place, I know that even without me Frenching that one guy I would have been hunted down. I needed to get out and recuperate, maybe prepare a bit more and ask the old man some questions.

I crouched down and prepared to dash but it seemed like the mob was out for blood as a pitchfork met my back, throwing me off balance. I kicked back, throwing the attacker off of me but a fist met my face, breaking a few of my teeth. A flaming torch impacted my stomach. A club smashed over my head.

I kept pushing everyone out of my way, trying to get out of the encirclement yet there were too many people. I kept taking blow after blow. And just as I managed to make it a bit out of their encirclement I heard yet another bang before my leg gave out.

The moment I fell, all of the mob ganged up on me. Stabbing, crushing, slicing, ripping, punching. A feel too familiar.

"Cursed Beast!" "Filthy mutt!" "Die, outsider!" "Beast! A foul beast!"

"I'll burn your corpse!" "Burn! Burn!" "It's all your fault!"

I was dying.

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/ D y i n g ? /

/Right, they are trying to kill me./

/What makes them any different?/

{Enough}

<You have awakened the skill {Beast Transformation lv.1}>

Just as the mob was about to scatter, seeing the brutalized corpse of the 'beast'. They were shocked to see the brutalized form try to rise to its feet. Before even one of the townsfolk could react, his hand shot out like a bullet and grasped the neck of the closest huntsman.

"Hel-"

Before the huntsman could get a word out, the hand closed tightly, completely shattering the neck, so tightly that crushed bone and flesh oozed out between his fingers like playdough. Pulling his hand back he decapitated the huntsman before launching the head toward the others like a rock much to their shock.

Like a visage dragged from hell itself, a monster far beyond any beast they assumed stared them down. Dark purple eyes bore into them. Shortly before the monster shot forward like a bullet and ripped his fist through the nearest hunter, impaling them on his arm like a stake before pulling his arm back with his victim's heart before chomping down on it. His wounds recovering visibly.

"Filthy beast!" "Beast! A foul beast!"

Seeing his beastly visage the huntsmen rallied once more with religious fanaticism, much to the monster's glee. He rushed into the crowd, slamming his knee into a poor fool's face before clawing off another's. The huntsman hit him over and over with their weapons yet he was like a perpetual motion machine of murder.

He grabbed the leg of a huntsman before using him like a flail, swinging him around so hard that its body got reduced to little more than a rag. Whenever he got wounded he cannibalized the nearest corpse to recover.

Even the zealous huntsmen couldn't even stay motivated at the sight.

Every time the monster swung, someone would drop dead. As if his very body had transformed itself into a perfect tool for murder. Bang, another gunshot was heard as the eye of the monster smoked. He tilted his head back forward. The grin was wiped off his face, replaced by a bland and purely murderous expression.

Before the offender could even entertain the idea of reloading, John summoned his axe in his hand before reeling back an absurd degree, suddenly all of his limbs snapped back like a rubber band as he flung the axe.

With extreme speeds, the axe reached the gunman's face in a blink. They only got a millisecond of reaction before being split in half from head to toe by the large axe.

None dared even move an inch, for they had laid their eyes on the true beast.

The true predator of the nightmare.

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-[John pov]-

Exhausted, I was utterly exhausted.

Although I had made it look easy, healing through blood is not an easy task, and the effectiveness gets reduced the more times you use it in a row.

But with absolute minimum stats(still near peak human) I was able to slaughter an entire mob of around peak humans with weapons. Although it seemed like I went completely berserk that wasnt the case. It takes way more than simply that to truly snap me. I was just simply very, VERY angry.

The main method to defeat them was experience in getting mobbed and using fear tactics.

After all, if your enemy seems like an invincible perpetual machine of murder, then your morale will be much lower. but it still left a bad taste in my mouth.

I very much disliked fighting like a monster. It reminds me of bad memories. Though it seemed like drinking that much blood had increased my stats a notch. And I seem to have gained some skills as well.

But my goddam axe broke. It seemed like I abused the poor thing too much. Whatever, I can probably sort something out for myself in the workshop.

For now, I should really focus on taking care of the first boss here.

Sighing I rubbed my bloodied head. I really needed to sort things out soon.

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