Wonderful Insane World
Chapter 180: Claiming Stuff

Chapter 180: Claiming Stuff

A soldier’s sword clashed against the beast leader’s sabre. The impact rang like a drumbeat, followed by a wet crack — the soldier’s arm was nearly ripped clean off. The officer roared, striking frantically, his blade sinking deep into a creature’s shoulder. Black blood gushed out, thick and metallic.

And it only made it angrier.

Dylan’s gaze slid back to the crate. It was now half-exposed, the tarp shredded to ribbons. Inside... that silver gleam again, pulsing faintly, like the moon trapped within stone.

"An anima gem... No doubt about it."

The large beast had seen it too. Its snout turned slowly, baring its teeth in a distorted grin. It barked — a sound halfway between laughter and a command — and two of its minions lunged toward the wagon.

"If they take the crate, I’m done for. They’ll rip everything apart, and I’ll be stuck between them and the soldiers. I need to move, now."

He crawled forward, using the chaos as cover. A soldier collapsed nearby, his throat torn open like a burst water pouch. Dylan looked away, simply wrenching the sword from the corpse’s hands, letting the useless hatchet drop. The blade was nicked, slippery with blood, but it was better than nothing.

A shadow loomed over him.

He spun on instinct, sword half-raised. One of the smaller beasts had spotted him. Its yellow eyes burned like embers, its jaws snapping with hunger. It swung a rusty axe toward his skull.

Dylan ducked. The axe slammed into the wagon’s side with a dull thud. He flung a handful of mud into the beast’s face, then stabbed forward — no technique, just desperate force. The sword’s tip scraped its collarbone, but it was enough to make it retreat.

"HEY!" The captain’s voice cracked behind him. "You, the laborer! With me!"

Dylan froze. The officer thought he was one of them. Perfect. He rushed toward him, sword trembling in his hand, faking the panic of a poor bastard forced to fight. Together, they braced just in time to block another beast’s charge.

The impact rattled Dylan to the bone. The creature’s mass was inhuman. The captain shoved it away with his shield, growling like an animal, and Dylan swung wildly, slicing into its arm. Black blood sprayed across his face.

The beast howled before pulling back, but another leapt forward immediately to take its place.

The leader raised its sabre and barked — a guttural, clear order. Two creatures broke away and charged straight at the wagon. One was already climbing the wheel, its claws digging deep grooves.

"If they get the crate... it’s over. Worse than over."

Dylan sucked in a breath. He made his choice.

Instead of staying in the defensive line, he threw himself back and bolted toward the wagon.

"HEY! Where the hell do you think—?!" shouted the officer behind him.

Too late. Dylan scrambled up the back of the wagon, snatching a broken spear lying across the cargo. He rammed it forward just as a massive jaw lunged over the wheel, ready to tear his leg off. The point punched through its throat with a sickening crack. The beast choked on its own snarl and fell into the mud.

Another leapt. Dylan hacked down, severing two clawed fingers in a single blow. The monster shrieked and pulled back.

But the leader was coming.

It advanced with monstrous speed. Its sabre dragged a line in the dirt, its eyes locked on the crate.

And on Dylan.

It wanted both.

Dylan’s muscles quivered, his lungs burning. He glanced at the crate — the seal was cracked, the silver light pulsing stronger, like a living heartbeat.

"What the hell is in there?"

The leader’s shadow loomed over him. The sabre rose, ready to strike.

The sabre sliced through the air, fast as lightning. Dylan threw himself aside, feeling the blade graze his cheek, close enough to shear a lock of hair. The sabre’s impact on the crate shattered the seal with a sharp crack. Silver light burst out all at once, like a flame being unleashed.

Dylan rolled on the ground, mouth full of dust, eyes fixed on the crate now half-open. Inside lay a stone — no, not a stone. A gem, but alive. It pulsed like an organ, radiating silver light that spread over the wagon like a tidal wave.

The beast leader froze. Its yellow eyes widened, mesmerized. It growled low, deeper... respectful, almost. As if the gem carried an authority greater than its hunger or rage. The other creatures stopped their assault, turning their muzzles toward that light.

Dylan’s heart leapt. So that’s what they’ve been sensing all along. The gem is calling them.

The captain, panting, staggered toward the wagon.

"What... by all the gods..." His voice cracked when he saw the light. "You... you opened the crate?!"

"Not me!" Dylan hissed. "It was him!" He jabbed a finger at the beast leader. But the monster wasn’t listening anymore. It crept closer, drawn like iron to a magnet, claws dragging through the dirt, its breath hissing.

Then, suddenly, it roared — a howl that shook the entire forest.

The other beasts answered, their cries merging into a savage prayer. Dylan backed away, eyes locked on the leader, who raised its sabre not to strike, but to take the gem.

"We’re not letting that thing touch it," the captain growled. He raised his sword, ready to fight despite the blood pouring down his side.

Dylan clenched his jaw. He knew he had to act, right now. If the gem fell into the beasts’ hands, they wouldn’t just tear through this convoy. They would become worse. Stronger. Maybe unstoppable.

And me? I don’t walk away from this mess alive.

He lunged forward, seizing the moment, and grabbed the gem. It throbbed under his palm like ten thousand hearts beating in unison. A freezing wave shot up his arm, coursing through his body, crashing into his skull.

This gem... it wasn’t an anima gem.

An anima gem balances three components: negative energy, soul fragments, and spiritual essence. Of those, only spiritual essence isn’t lethal to a human body. Normally, a human can absorb just a sliver of it.

But this gem — it was pure essence. No negative energy. No soul fragments. Nothing tainted.

Dylan staggered, the gem burning into his skin as if trying to fuse with him. A deep heat climbed into his skull, then spread in an electric wave through every nerve. The forest warped around him, tree outlines writhing like flames. The whole world breathed in sync with that silver light.

"Pure essence..." he thought, teeth clenched. "Impossible... how could anyone store this much in one stone?"

The stone pulsed harder, as if answering his thoughts. Dylan let out a strangled cry, a trickle of blood running from his nose. His body wasn’t ready for this. Even as an Awakened, he could barely handle such raw energy.

The beasts drew closer. The leader, eyes fixed on the gem, advanced slowly — fear and greed mixed in its predator gaze. The others stayed in a circle, quivering, as if the light itself commanded their respect.

The captain saw it too, his face pale.

"Drop it! Drop that damn thing! It’ll kill you!"

Dylan didn’t answer. His hand refused to let go, as if the gem had welded itself to his flesh. Sparks of light burst from his fingers, a silver mist coiling around his wrist.

Then came the shockwave.

A deep rumble rose from the stone and erupted in a blast of energy. The air buckled, branches shattered like brittle bones, and the beasts were hurled backward as if swept by an invisible storm. Even the captain was flung three meters away, his armor crashing to the ground with a dull thud.

Dylan stood, panting, the gem clutched in his hand. His body trembled — not from fatigue alone, but from something else. A strange resonance, as if a foreign heartbeat now pulsed in his veins.

The beast leader was the first to rise. It growled, shaking its head, yellow eyes locked on Dylan with burning hatred. It stepped forward. Then another step.

Dylan felt the stone react, its glow flaring brighter, vibrating as the monster drew near. He understood, then. The gem... wants to defend itself.

Without thinking, he thrust his hand forward. Light burst out, like an invisible blade. The beast leader screamed, a deep slash cutting across its chest, its fur sizzling under the strike.

The gem’s light pulsed — and something under Dylan’s skin answered.

It started at his wrist, where the silver mist had wrapped. One line, then another. Fine streaks of dark red lit beneath the skin, as if inked there with hot wire, racing up his forearm. They branched and knotted, angles and broken curves—glyphs he didn’t know yet somehow knew. Elbow. Bicep. Shoulder.

Under the soaked bandages his original stigmate—across his back—flared awake. Shock rippled through him. The red brightened... then faded. Ruby to bone-white. Blood to ivory. Then to pure white, sheened in silver—the gem’s colour.

The air crackled.

The officer, dragging himself upright, saw everything. Saw the light under grime, the veins that weren’t veins, awakening made flesh.

"...So you were... Awakened... all this time." Breathless. Stunned. Almost betrayed.

Dylan met his eyes and thought:

« Yeah. And you just saw way too much, you poor bastard. »