Not long after the group left, the adult misshapen man, carrying an axe and sickle, with a bow and arrows on its back, followed their trail to the area.
It sniffed the air and continued forward. A moment later, it clearly saw the scene before it.
Its child's head had been cut off and impaled on a branch, as though provoking it—or perhaps mocking it.
An indescribable pain surged into its heart!
It felt overwhelming grief. The air in its belly rushed up to its throat, and it threw back its head and let out a hoarse howl.
The sound was like that of a wild beast, yet anyone could understand the sorrow within it.
These misshapen people could hunt and kill others without expression, just as humans slaughtered sheep and cattle. Perhaps ordinary people were nothing more than two-legged sheep to them.
They did not care about their prey's feelings, but when their family was killed in return by that prey, they could not stop themselves from grieving.
That was the cruelty of hunters.
Survival of the fittest—sometimes, even among one's own kind, it was the same!
The misshapen cannibal ogre walked over to its child's ugly head, plucked out the child's eyeballs, stuffed them into its mouth, and swallowed them.
It wanted to carry its child's eyes with it, so the child could watch how it avenged them.
Then it lifted the nearby trap, used the wooden frame to pin down the little misshapen child's corpse, and gathered leaves from nearby to cover it.
It wanted to preserve its child's body and keep other beasts from gnawing on it.
Although this forest had long been its territory, other beasts inevitably wandered in from time to time, something that made its kind furious.
Those mindless four-legged creatures could distinguish