Fenrir Greyback curled up miserably on the ground, forcing a few weak whimpers from his throat.
His fists clenched involuntarily, his claws digging deep into his palms. Blood seeped out and mixed with the bone-chilling rainwater, slowly spreading across the clearing.
He struggled amid pain and hatred as countless faces flashed before his eyes, overlapping, screaming.
There was his own face, the faces of victims whose bodies he had torn apart, and the faces that had forcibly invaded his soul. They twisted together into an indistinguishable mass, until he could no longer tell who was who.
So many faces were about to merge into one, becoming boundless hatred and pain that would swallow him whole.
"Wiz... Wiz..."
Half-dead, Fenrir Greyback forced vague syllables through his teeth. They sounded both like a curse and a plea.
Why?
Why had I become like this?
His mind grew ever more chaotic. Just as hatred was about to drown his consciousness, he felt it—his hatred for Wizet.
If not for Wizet, not for the culprit who had put him in this state, he would never have suffered such agony.
"You damned bastard!"
"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 could not go mad!
Another face appeared before Fenrir Greyback's eyes, along with a name clear enough to grasp.
Wizet!
The name exploded in the depths of his soul like thunder.
The tangled screams, shattered faces, heartrending pain, and chaotic scenes... instantly found an outlet.
Wizet!
It was you!
The root of it all!
The Lycanthropy Fenrir Greyback had always indulged in rewarded him once more at that moment.
Like a dying lone wolf, he instinctively caught the scent of blood in the depths of despair and sensed