Monster

"No, wait!"

Robert turned back in surprise. Hope was already standing behind him, the scythe nowhere to be seen, but on his hand was a ruby ring with the hooked blade facing outward.

"Die, Robert." Hope said quietly, at the same time driving his clenched fist into Robert's left cheek.

The ring worn on his hand stabbed into Robert's face like a set of knuckle-dusters, making that ugly old face even more wretched.

Hope didn't press the attack. He reined in his anger, took two steps back, and watched Robert.

Robert fell to the ground, his hand covering the wound from the blow. He glared at Hope with hatred, and that look gave Hope some small measure of comfort.

One, two, three...

Hope counted leisurely, watching to see how long Robert could hold out.

Four, five, six...

Something seemed off. Hope frowned. Robert didn't look like a dying man. Paul's wound was shallower, yet he had fallen unconscious first...

Hope sniffed the air. There seemed to be a faint fishy smell...

His eyes widened in shock as he stared at Robert. The data he was getting from Robert was changing:

Agility: 1.00, Physique: 1.87, Vision: 1.03, Mana: 0

1.87 physique?

Hope thought back to the Great Night Hawk.

If Robert had had 1.87 physique just now...

Hope's train of thought was forced to a halt, because the number hadn't stopped changing: 1.90, 1.93, 1.96...

Robert's physique was rising at an astonishing rate.

It wasn't just the data. His body was changing too. Patches of dull green appeared on his skin. That green was only the beginning, spreading across Robert's entire body.

His once-shriveled muscles were visibly bulging. The fishy smell grew stronger. His golden hair fell out in clumps, replaced on his head by fin-like appendages.

He was transforming from a human into a monster.

Realizing this, Hope hurriedly retrieved his scythe. It was his only weapon. He didn't hesitate. The scythe's target was Robert's neck...

A thick arm blocked the blade. It wasn't a human arm—it was covered in dark green scales. The scythe striking those scales was like hitting stone, leaving only a white mark.

That was Robert's arm.

Agility: 1.00, Physique: 2.79, Vision: 1.03, Mana: 0

The physique finally stopped changing. The Robert before Hope had completely turned into a "fish-man":

Only a trace of human form remained. His head had fully become a fish head, with huge, bulging eyes that seemed to have no eyelids. On both sides of his neck were constantly quivering gills. His long limbs all had webbing between the fingers and toes.

The "fish-man" spoke, its voice hoarse and piercing: "This feeling isn't bad. I forgot to tell you, Hope. The poison on the ring is poison to ordinary people, but to us of the Miller Family... after using it, I become like this."

The fish-man opened its massive hand, moving so fast Hope had no time to react. It grabbed Hope by the neck and lifted him up.

Only then did Hope realize Robert was now over two meters tall. Lifting him was like picking up a small doll. He was suspended in midair, his windpipe compressed, struggling to breathe, his face twisted in pain.

"I have to thank you, Hope. I used to despise this form, but now that I've actually transformed, the feeling is surprisingly good."

It flexed its other arm, as if still getting used to the change: "How should I thank you, Hope?"

"Ugh... mmph..."

Hope felt the pressure on his neck growing stronger. That stinking green hand was about to crush his throat. The consequences of suffocation set in—dark spots filled his vision. Hope was gradually losing consciousness...

He felt himself thrown, crashing against the bedside. The hard wood pressed into his spine. His throat suddenly relaxed, and he greedily gasped for air.

"I've got it." The "fish-man" Robert said. "As thanks, I won't kill you this time. But there won't be a next time. When we meet again, I'll crush you into a meatball."

It grabbed the doorknob, preparing to leave.

"Hm?" It let out a confused sound. Muscles bulged.

"Damn it." The fish-man Robert seemed to have become more irritable. It stepped back and slammed its massive body into the entire wall, trying to smash a hole straight through it.

"BANG!"

After the shocking noise, both the door and the wooden partition wall remained perfectly intact.

"Damn it!" It looked back. "Hope, what did you do?"

But Hope just stared at it blankly. He didn't understand what was happening either.

The Great Night Hawk with 1.89 physique could tear open Old Williams' wooden cabin. There was no way the walls of Whateley House were that sturdy.

Robert grabbed the doorknob and yanked repeatedly. With its current strength, even if the door was locked from the outside, it should have been able to tear the whole door off.

"Hope..." Robert seemed to be saying something, but his voice grew quieter and quieter, until his mouth opened but no sound came out...

No, it wasn't just his voice. All sounds were fading. A true silence fell over the room. Hope couldn't even hear his own breathing.

Something was surging into the room. On the wooden wall in front of Robert, vague, translucent substances were squeezing in through the cracks in the door and the gaps between the planks.

They had no color at all, looking like flowing water, but floating eerily, surrounded by white mist.

Hope inexplicably felt that this thing was dangerous. As he stared at it, no numbers appeared in his mind—either it wasn't a living creature, or the numbers had already exceeded the limit of what Hope could perceive...

Hope quietly retreated a few steps.

Robert, already transformed into a fishman, sensed far more. He stared blankly at these translucent substances, the muscles unique to his hideous fish face twisting into a terrifying expression of fear.

He lunged madly toward Hope, but those things had already entangled him.

They dragged him into the air, and like salt crystals dissolving in water, his body vanished rapidly—first his black robe, then his scales, skin, flesh, blood, bones, and every organ—all quickly becoming part of the transparent substance, leaving not a single trace behind.

This monster, stronger than the Great Night Hawk, didn't even put up a struggle.

The translucent things kept advancing. Everything else in the room remained untouched, but the foremost stream of water had already touched Paul.

Paul... Hope struggled to pull Paul's body toward him, only to find he couldn't move at all. From the moment those things entered the room, nothing inside had any power to resist.

Hope couldn't even close his eyes to look away.

Old Whateley... I have to find a way to let Old Whateley know... Otherwise, not only will Paul's corpse be lost, but I'll die here too...

Before Hope could come up with a plan, he suddenly felt his body grow lighter.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a hand reach out from under the bed, clutching a strange wooden shard.

The hand hesitated for a moment, then tossed the shard. It spun through the air and landed precisely on Paul.

The translucent things stopped. They seemed to hesitate—Hope was astonished that such a thing could show hesitation, but it was true—the foremost one cautiously approached the shard.

A scream, one Hope could neither describe nor imitate, suddenly rang out. It made him want to cover his ears, yet the sound seemed never to have existed, leaving no memory in his mind.

For a moment, his vision blurred and his head spun. By the time he recovered, the translucent thing had vanished without a trace.