Hyperion Evergrowing: A Monster Evolution LitRPG

There were several ways one might react to having the connection to their family threatened. Shock was expected, anger understandable, fear reasonable. Since his rebirth, Leif had experienced all three, but the mental smothering on his emotional state due to his inhuman physiology had largely kept him in check.

From what snippets of his past life Leif could recall, his younger, human self had been tutored in a manner that would tame emotional outbursts. Of course, that hadn’t stopped that version of himself from being banished from his family due to an emotional decision, a decision that had left three young men dead on the ground of the house Vin estate.

Leif had already decided that none of the men and women who had pursued him into the forest north of Luriem would be leaving alive. The choice to cut down the threat hounding him had not been made lightly, but he had made his peace with the idea of delivering death onto the deserving. Was it self defence if you orchestrated the scenario in which you were attacked. No. Was the killing of another living, thinking being a moral and sustainable solution to problems? No.

But they lived in a violent world.

Over the past month he had guided, and partially tutored another in how to navigate their reality. Training, protecting, discussing the unfortunate ways of the world. On the blood-strewn beach near the imperial city of Kartinth, Leif had told Lucia that killing shouldn’t be the first course of action one considered. He still stood by what he said, if given the opportunity, ending another's life should be a last resort. The girl was far away now. Safe, hopefully. A history with Fracture she might have, this wasn’t her fight. This was war, and it was no place for a child.

It was interesting how a sudden flash of intense, primal anger could sharpen the thoughts in one’s head. How clarity could dawn as all background distractions vanished over the cognitive horizon. Leif didn’t speak as a condensed sphere of gilded wood appeared in his hand, didn’t hesitate as he stepped forward, blurring upwards in a streak of gold, the sheer weight of the object he was carrying sending a sharp pang of pain through his soul. He appeared atop the cliff, among the still reacting humans that had chosen to come after him. The sphere slipped from his hand as he released it, already sending a [Might] enhanced punch right for the nearest man’s face.

Cartilage broke, the skull fractured, the brain was instantly pulverised, and a life blinked out, snuffed like a candle. But what had once animated the body, sustained the mind and intermingled with the soul to allow for existence was drained away, syphoned in through wooden knuckles, washing down each finger and into the palm, then flooding down past the wrist, forearm, bicep, shoulder. Down into the chest, settling into the vague location that all cultivated energy dwelled.

Ideally this would have been the end of somebody Leif had a personal grievance with. Unfortunately he could only teleport back to the spot he had been standing, and he hadn’t intended to take this fight. If he had, he would have spent a handful of seconds placing more anchors along the edge of the cliff.

Then the bomb exploded, stone shattered, the air screamed, wood ripping outwards in every direction in an expansion of force as violent as it was devastating. Men died, some impaled, others dying from blunt trauma. Others still were sent flying, crashing into nearby tree’s or plummeting down off the cliff to have their bodies land broken on the ground below.

Defensive skills flashed, shields, barriers, body enhancements and movement techniques employed. For the half a dozen individuals closest to the detonation, their attempts at self preservation were pitifully lacking. Some fortunate ones several metres away from where Leif appeared managed to disengage. The scion didn’t have the time to identify which opponents were still alive, because nobody had been closer to the explosion than he had been.

Not that he suffered from the same weaknesses as the humans that had made themselves his enemy, but that hardly made him immune to the effects of enough expanding force to punch a hole through layered steel with ease. Fortunately, Leif wasn’t caught off guard by his own sudden attack. A forest of golden limbs cocooned him, and beyond them a layer of protective amber. He pushed outwards with his will, smoothly transitioning [Benevolent Actions] between [Might], then [Intelligence], then [Willpower]. Leif endured the onslaught for long enough to take a single step, but in the second it took him his chest was caved in, an inch thick groove was carved through his head, and one of his real arms was severed just above the elbow.

Leif appeared back where he had been standing only a moment prior, his descent faster than the raining chunks of stone and viscera. The repeated uses of [The Amber Path] seared his soul, but it was easy enough to ignore. He dashed through the forest, pulsing his aura in time with every step, pumping a spike of vitality down into the ground with every footfall, newly created golden arms reaching out to syphon away whatever he expended from nearby foliage. In the forest, Leif was the closest thing to being physically unkillable, his soul would give out long before his body did. The danger was being restrained, bogged down in so many skills that he couldn’t so much as twitch.

The blood clone was the threat, and he needed to keep moving to avoid a prolonged confrontation. Leif had felt the sanguine tendrils of icy control seeping into him in the instant before his retreat. The attack had been reckless, foolish even, but over half of the people who had entered the wilderness seeking to impose their wills upon him were dead or crippled beyond the ability to fight. He leapt over a small hill, vanished into the trunk of a tree only to appear on the other side a heartbeat later.

His wounds were healing, and his arm was already regrowing, ivory wood twisting out from the wound, reshaping itself back into the limb he had carefully moulded months prior. Except, it wasn’t regrowing like it should. The forearm was elongated, far longer than it should be. He spent vitality to restore the limb, while at the same time expending a fraction of his focus on trying to wrestle it back into shape. The hand came next, jagged and enlarged, each of the five fingers inhumanly protracting.

Leif slowed, his run turning from sprint to jog as he raised his malformed arm. [Wood Manipulation] altered the limb’s structure, restraining it back into its proper form. He flexed his fingers, now correctly proportioned. The arm no longer resembled ivory armour, but the deceptive aesthetics were hardly his largest concern at the moment. A series of ear piercing screeches echoed through the forest, followed by a hundred presences flying through the overhead branches.

Giant bats, an entire swarm of them, their evening hunt no doubt distracted by the sounds of battle. They largely ignored him, though several darted down, their leathery wings battering Leif as their claws and teeth scraped off of his wooden body. No, there was prey elsewhere, and the scion directed the oversized beasts in the proper direction with an application of aura control.

There would be a feeding frenzy tonight. If it meant calling every beast and monster out of the deep wilderness, he would happily do so if it resulted in the death of his enemy.

Now. Time to bait them into another trap.

===

The sky was alive with seething leathery wings, a hundred pairs of glowing red eyes glinted as the beasts dove down, maws gaping, drool falling down onto the heads of those below. The group had moved quickly after being decimated, leaving the bodies of the dead and crippled behind for the creatures of the forest to feed on.

If it weren’t for the swarm of bats trying to rip them to shreds, half of the remaining humans would have fled already, the night having more than proven that sticking around would result in nothing less than a meaningless death. But they were trapped, fighting a desperate battle just to fend off their skyborne attackers.

Steel glinted under the light of season as frenzied beasts died by the dozen, elemental skills scorching, freezing or crackling through the swarm. A pack dove down, only to freeze a metre above the heads of their would be victims. The creatures spasmed, then died, a river of blood flowing down into the outstretched hand of the blood clone. Every living being on the battlefield shuddered and a sanguine presence bloomed, far hungrier and more deadly than any bat or man. In a frenzy of crimson blades and lashing wires of blood, the construct unleashed itself, ripping and tearing its way through the pack of beasts.

More froze, held in mid air as the blood running through their veins was constricted. After a minute, all were dead, leaving the clone of Vevosis engorged. The creation of blood hovered in the air, viscera and vitality streaming into its form, soaking its already crimson robes an even darker red. It turned as if marvelling at the bloodbath below, its mouth stretching into an eerie crescent. The clone spread its arms and raised its head skywards, revelling in the sanguine shower its powers had created.

Mangled bat corpses fell to the bloodstained ground, a constant, rhythmic thud with each impact. The forest fell silent, the clone glanced down at the humans staring up at it with a mix of awe and terror. Its grin widened with sinister intent, pressure built. Those from Luriem took hasty steps back, many looking around wildly for an escape. Existing wounds widened, deepened, exsanguination intensified, the blood within the cowering humans trembling as if coerced to obey.

“We serve humanity. No.. no matter the cost.” Norman said with a shudder, the man falling to one knee, his head bowed to hide the tears of blood running down his cheeks. Around him, the other Fracture members copied him, though few had the strength to speak.

The pressure built, and one of the thugs screamed, clutching their hands to the side of their head and then turned and sprinted into the forest. They made it three steps before a tendril of blood punched through the back of their head. The blood clone gestured, and the limp body was reeled back like a fish on a hook. With every passing second its power grew, its form enlarging, growing as if taking on aspects of those it was draining.

“We will give you the strength to succeed. The mission must be successful.” Norman gasped, the sheer presence of the entity of blood suffocating all nearby.

A bolt of sizzling emerald energy shot through the air, bursting against the construct of blood, making the distracted entity flinch as acid melted through cloth and blackened its crimson flesh.

“I will be nobodies sacrifice!” Maline yelled, her face contorted into an expression of rage that matched that of exultant joy from the mutating clone. At no point had its smile faded, not even as the side of its body melted away.

Weapons were raised, and skills were kindled. Intense heat built in the palm of Kurt’s hand as he took a shaky step forward. “Norman!” The demikin yelled. “What the hells is this? What kind of monster is this?”

“It is no monster. It is salvation. The final hope.” Norman said, his fingers digging into dirt, still not raising his head. “It is a better death than the likes of you deserve.”

“Fuck you!” Kurt screamed.

There was a flash of heat, a series of shouts as techniques were unleashed by those few who had the strength to resist. The clone shuddered, then its hand twitched. The resistance ended instantly.

Vevosis’s creation landed back on the ground, stalking past the kneeling Fracture members without so much as glancing in their direction. For a minute there was nothing but the sickening sounds of bones snapping and flesh tearing. The man kneeling to Norman’s side expired as the pressure built further, simply falling forward like a puppet with its strings cut.

“We live to protect, and in death we serve. For the survival of our species. For humanity.” Palen whispered under her breath, the mantra reminding herself of their duty, their purpose. They would do anything for humanity. Even die. If it meant obtaining the prize they sought, none of them would so much as hesitate to sacrifice everything. Out of the corner of his vision Norman saw bloody wires wrapped around the fallen man’s leg, then the corpse was dragged out of sight.

He found himself repeating Palen’s words, though he had to spit out a mouthful of blood every few seconds. “We live to protect, and in death we serve. For the survival of our species. For humanity.”

The sound of meat being flensed mixed with their words as the four surviving members of Fracture all picked up the chant. Even as their consciousness faded from the lack of blood flow and their words grew desperate they didn’t stop. Norman’s vision swam with red, his heart felt like it was on the verge of bursting and his veins felt like they were trying to rip themselves free from under his skin.

His chanting was no longer audible, coming out more like a wheezing burble, the sound an infant would make when trying to speak. He didn’t notice when Palen was dragged away, nor when he had become the final survivor. Everything was peaceful. Everything was alright. He would do his duty, and he would die proud. He just couldn’t remember why. What was he even doing? Why had they come to the forest? Was his family safe?

A deformed hand rested atop his head, pulling his eyes skyward and causing the hood of his robe to slide off his scalp. A creature of violence stood over him, its inhuman mouth filled with several sets of teeth. Wings sprouted from its back, leathery and batlike, though entirely red. The blood filling his mouth trickled down his throat, choking him as the being’s aura crushed his own completely.

It was so beautiful. So perfectly human. “Please… my lord.” He wheezed. “Save us. Save humanity.”

For several seconds he stared up at the deformed blood clone, and it stared back down at him. Clawed fingered tore skin and scraped against bone, but Norman didn’t feel any pain. It leaned forward, mouth widening, rows of teeth shifting as the underlying structure of its face was altered. The creature took in a single breath, and then exhaled, the haunting whistle contorting into a single, ravenous word.

“Humanity…”

Then it began to laugh.

===

Leif waved away a cloud of overly curious moths as he stepped out into a small clearing, a shallow stream flowing from one side to the other, following the subtle sloping of the ground. Blades of wood were impaled into the dirt, their hilts sticking up out of the grass and ferns. There were well over three dozen evenly spread through the open space, and though they were not his greatest work, his proficiency with [Wood Manipulation] had allowed for their forging to be fast and efficient.

There were several other locations he had prepared, but this was the closest, positioned between where his hunters were located and the edge of the wilderness. Out of immediate danger, Leif finally turned his attention to the system notification he had received just after his clash with Fracture.

Level up! Class [Scion of Aeons] is now level 26!

For using a multitude of abilities to quickly and decisively dispatch several foes all of equal or higher level than yourself you have gained a level!

+1 to [Alacrity] +1 to [Charisma] +5 free points!

Mana reinforcement progress 50%!

Not too bad. He wouldn’t complain about an increase in power, no matter how minor. Leif was just about to allocate his free points when the forest fell silent. Everything from the chirping of crickets to the croaking of toads disappeared. His awareness was pulled towards the direction he suspected his enemies were in, and something brushed up against his perception.

It felt like something had smeared blood across his soul. In that moment he knew everyone was dead. It brought him no joy, no sense of relief or flicker of disappointment. They had been butchered, and their killer was on its way. Something resonated inside of him at the realisation, but he couldn’t spare the attention to figure out why.

Leif called two nearby swords into his hands, trickling amber vitality into them. Then he waited as death approached. He knew it had his scent.