Fenrir Greyback curled up wretchedly on the ground, a few faint whimpers forcing their way from his throat with difficulty.
He involuntarily clenched his fists, his sharp claws stabbing deep into his palms. The blood that seeped out mixed with the icy rainwater and slowly spread across the clearing.
He struggled in pain and hatred as countless faces flashed before his eyes, overlapping, screaming.
There was his own face, the faces of the victims whose bodies he had torn apart, and the faces that had forced their way into his soul. They twisted together until he could no longer tell who was who.
So many faces were about to merge into one, turning into boundless hatred and pain that would swallow him completely.
"Vi... Vi..."
The dying Fenrir Greyback forced the indistinct syllables through his teeth, sounding as if he were both cursing and pleading.
Why?
Why had I become like this?
He grew more and more confused. Just as his consciousness was about to be drowned by hatred, he felt his own hatred—his hatred for Vizet.
If not for Vizet, if not for the culprit who had put him in such a state, he never would have faced such pain.
"You damned piece of trash!"
"What gives you the right to make decisions for me!"
"It's all you! You're the one who made me suffer so much!"
No!
He couldn't go mad!
Another face appeared before Fenrir Greyback's eyes, along with a name clear enough to grasp.
Vizet!
The name was like a thunderclap, exploding deep within his soul.
Those intertwined screams, shattered faces, heart-rending pain, and chaotic images... found an outlet in an instant.
Vizet!
It was you!
The root of it all!
The Lycanthropy Disease Fenrir Greyback had always indulged rewarded him once again at that moment.