Muscle rolled under Redd's skin as fur spread along his arms and shoulders. His fingers lengthened, nails thickening into curved claws that caught the light. His breathing deepened, chest expanding, and his posture changed into something predatory without becoming mindless. There was excitement in him, yes, but also relief. After earlier, after all that pressure, he needed something simple: a target that bled, a fight that made sense. And something that didn't hit back harder than it got hit.
He charged up ahead in a couple of leaps, reaching the first Demonling. One blow was all it took for Redd to cleave off the creature's head, clean off as he turned his face to the next one who he expected to come charging in.
