Becoming a Monster
Chapter 215: A Vassel’s True Power

Chapter 215: Chapter 215: A Vassel’s True Power

Arachne’s pride swelled; her ego ignited by the challenge presented by Ailetta’s intervention. While she normally would have reacted with anger to anyone stepping into her fight, the fact that it was Ailetta, a rival she begrudgingly acknowledged as her equal, transformed her frustration into something more competitive. There was no room for weakness in her mind, especially not in front of Fenrir or the others. Instead of resentment, Arachne saw this as a contest: a race to see who could take down the spider beast first.

Her attacks became more aggressive, bolder in her risk to deal damage whilst now maneuvering through the brutal confrontation undergoing between the spider and Ailetta’s abomination.

Meanwhile, the black-armored ant, realizing that Diablo’s core had slipped beyond its grasp, let out an ear-splitting, crazed screech. The ant lunged forward, the power in its steps left cracks beneath it, threatening to break through the ground. For the first time, the ant was unleashing its fullest capabilities.

Its target was not just the core but Eve, who dared to take what belonged to its Queen. With its speed, five seconds would be enough time for it to close the distance. No sooner that it abruptly launched itself towards them, its powering presence forcibly dung into the earth, quickly coming to a stop.

The presence of an ant stood in front of him, and not just any ant, but a Queen. The ant in question stood, empowering and regal in its stance, looking down on the muscled ant, despite the fact that the Queen in question was slightly shorter than it. The armored ant at first glance knew it wasn’t the Queen that it served. Its mandibles flared in wariness and aggression; its mandibles threateningly clicked but behind the source was hesitance. An opposing ant colony’s Queen was still a Queen that should be given respect.

Its clicks were ignored, its gestures to communicate overlooked. The more the armored ant tried to communicate, the more hostile the Queen became. But then, its anger subsided far too quickly, unnaturally so. Its antennae moved with a fervor that rivaled the bee during the moment of its torment.

It was so distraught in the Queen’s appearance that it didn’t initially take in the fact that not only did the present Queen lack the sole factor of a Queen’s ant function to reproduce for its colony, but the Queen in question lacked the pheromone accustomed to their species. In fact, the more the armored ant deduced, it could sense that the Queen was a complete fake!

The armored ant’s confusion turned to boiling rage, its primal instincts shifting from respect to absolute hatred. This was an abomination—a mockery of the sacred role of a Queen. Its claws twitched, the sharp edges flexing against its muscular hands, eager to crush this impostor for daring to imitate what it could never truly be.

But just as it prepared to lunge at its newest target, a pressure released itself nearby, a pressure that emitted a danger that was honed in on its figure. The air around it shifted, the air felt stifled, and heavy. Its legs trembled, finding itself taking an instinctively step backwards. Mist, black mist spread towards it, threatening to envelope the entire battlefield, but then the mist mysteriously reigned itself in.

The muscled ant couldn’t understand what was happening. Was it the imposter? Did it incite the fakes’ wraith? Was the fake, in fact, a true Queen? Its instincts processed the only thoughts it could think of. Death, it didn’t fear, pain was for weaker species, the only being that could make it tremble in fear was a Queen, so from its deductions, the creature that it once labeled as a fake had to be real.

It was about to bow in the "Queen’s" presence, not wanting to incite a war, and future destruction of its colony between colonies of fellow ants. Yet, the moment its knees twitched to show its respect and denounce itself for its earlier rudeness, the "Queen’s" existence merely disappeared.

The muscled ant’s world froze in disbelief. Its mandibles twitched, and its antennae swept the air furiously. The Queen was gone....no!

The ant’s head sharply turned towards the aura that was still there, still bearing down on it with malice, weighing on it’s like an iron cage. It thought that the Queen moved, but the moment it laid eyes on the owner of that malicious gaze, its body stiffened. What it saw was a figure impersonating death.

All this time, the "Queen" it thought was interacting with had only been an illusion of the very Queen that Noah had fought. Because of its low level, Noah was still unable to fool all of ants’ senses, but the impact of the Queen’s appearance was enough to achieve what he wanted.

Unlike his other companions he was bonded to, Eve was the only one he didn’t have to overthink about when it came to aiding in battle. The little zombie, despite her mischievous nature, was still very much naive, and her heart and mind were still that of a child. It was because of this nature that she was so dependent on him, not wanting to leave his side, and because of their bond, she preferred his presence even more than her own father.

As Noah’s eyes shimmered, releasing the effects of his illusion, he took the time to finally appreciate the change in front of him. The little girl had become a monster.

The term monster wasn’t just based on the fact that she was a literal monster, that was always true. But now her appearance would make even the bravest of souls utter that term when first laying eyes on her.

Her childlike appearance was no more; her body had grown to resemble that of an average teenager. Yet even with this change, the remnants of her zombie-like humanity, once giving her an illusion of life, had vanished entirely. Her pale complexion became even more ghostly, hardening into an unnatural, mask-like surface. Her eyes hollowed into dark voids, their sockets impervious to sight, exuding an air of haunting finality. Her face transformed into a skeletal mask, eerily akin to Diablo’s fearsome visage.

However, unlike Diablo’s crimson gems, her sockets housed radiant orbs of light. They burned with the unsettling intensity of the light one might glimpse on the threshold of death.

A subtle yet striking addition crowned her transformation, a small silver-like tiara, seemingly forged from violet-hued bones that mimicked Diablo’s own skeletal structure. The tiara nestled unobtrusively beneath her hair, trailing down over her forehead that formed a cross where her third eye once was.

Her hair paled just like her skin, turning completely white, a white that was reflective of a full moon.

The armor that Noah gifted her magically stretched and changed to perfectly fit onto her new appearance, giving her the impression of a skeletal warrior. However, Eve continued to glance down towards her chest, her expression uneasy, yet contemplative. That’s when she reached towards her arm, grasping the bracelet that enveloped her in her current armor, before removing it, letting the bracelet fall to the ground behind her. An action quickly noted by Noah but was mentally stored for later to berate her about, however he still silently extended his arm of slime, unnaturally stretching it to retrieve the bracelet.

The moment she uncuffed the bracelet, the armor receded almost instantaneously to reveal the reason for her pondering expression.

Almost her entire body became that of a skeleton, though much skinnier than Diablo’s figure. Underneath her bony exterior was the same mana-like flesh that Diablo contained, making her bones fit her like another layer of clothing.

The dress she once wore became stripped from her growth spurt and bony structure, bits and pieces hung loosely on the pointed parts of her figure. Only her arms successfully still wore the sleeves that were barely enough to even cover her shoulders.

But her bareness revealed a striking sight, in the center of her chest, the same area where Noah contained his Nexus eye, Eve had something of her own, something that Noah was even more surprised to see.

Diablo’s face protruded from the middle of her chest. His eyes showed an awareness of his former self that indicated that he still had his own awareness. Yet his eyes were no longer the crimson gems like before. His sockets contained the same black, violet and silver hues of his core that was hidden behind his face.

The intensity of his face was only heightened by the eerie light that perpetually emanated from within Eve’s ribs. This light, far brighter than the unnatural glow of her eyes, seemed to pulse with a malevolent energy, drawing the gaze of the weak-willed. Those who found themselves entranced by it were filled with an overwhelming, irresistible desire to embrace death, as if the light called to them as a final refuge. For those who resisted, however, the light invoked an instinctual terror, a primal fear that seemed to emanate from its very core.

The light was both the combination of the white of her eyes and the violent purple energy that she obtained from Noah. Given the glow within her a ghastly impression. That same energy turned into a flame in both of her hands that interlocked with one another, extending to form a weapon reminiscent of death itself.