I never dared to look back on what happened in "Maple Breath Village" that night.
Broken corpses and collapsed houses; scarlet blood gathered on the ground in pools like maple syrup.
"Did I do this?" I asked myself over and over in my heart.
And the scraps of flesh between my fingers, and the rich, sickening yet sweet and delicious reek of blood in my mouth, had already given me the answer.
I had become a monster.
It was like the maple forest behind the village. When I went in, it had clearly still been early morning, the sky just beginning to brighten; when I looked up again, the sun had already set.
Days in the forest always passed quickly.
I had a rough idea of what had happened to me.
So after that night, I rarely came into contact with anyone again.
I spent my days wandering deep in the mountains and forests, only occasionally taking advantage of the brightest noon sunlight to go to nearby towns and trade with the residents for necessary supplies.
But it never lasted long.
The murmurs echoing by my ears, and the increasingly frenzied beast's roar in my heart, devoured my consciousness on those nights when the moonlight was as bright as day.
No matter how far I fled.
When I woke, my body was still covered in blood.
And in front of me, there were always at least a few corpses lying there.
Gradually, I began to get used to it.
I even stopped resisting the beast that prowled in the depths of my inner shadows.
The time I spent on all fours grew longer and longer, while the days I walked on two legs grew shorter and shorter.
My memories of once being human grew increasingly blurred. I even forgot