The jungle was a grotesque, living entity. Mist didn't just curl; it coiled in thick, serpentine ropes around the shattered trunks of trees that looked as though they had been snapped by colossal hands. The air was a suffocating, wet blanket, heavy with the humidity of a thousand years and the sickeningly sharp, metallic tang of fresh and drying iron. Every step was a fight; their boots sank into the damp, decaying earth, and beneath the mud, roots twisted like grasping, black sinews, actively resisting their passage. The silence of the forest was an illusion, a trick played by the overwhelming presence of noise. The air was thick, suffocating, yet beneath it all, an inexorable pulse thrummed beneath the soil—an energy both profoundly organic and terrifyingly alien, like the colossal heartbeat of a buried god. It was this pulse that put their nerves on edge, a low-frequency dread that vibrated in their very bones.
Kaen pressed his hand hard against his side, wincing as he felt the crust of dried blood mix with a fresh slick of sweat. The injury from the last encounter was a constant, throbbing reminder of their fragility. The shadow-stalker blade across his lap, its charcoal black metal gleamed dimly in the low, broken light, now bore several fresh, deep chips and scars along its edge—a testament to the brutality of the creatures they had faced. Ragna's posture was rigid, his twin swords already partially drawn, his fingers tight on the leather-wrapped hilts, the seasoned warrior's intuition screaming a warning. Riku's long, segmented spear wasn't rested; it traced subtle, calculated arcs in the air, its tip slicing the mist with an almost silent shh-shh, his youthful but intensely focused eyes scanning the trembling, dense undergrowth.
They had barely survived the forest's previous wave of horrors, their gear stressed, their bodies aching, and their morale threadbare. And yet, this stillness, this deep, vibrating silence felt fundamentally wrong. It was the calm before a storm not of nature, but of unleashed, unnatural power.
Then the ground shifted. Not a tremor, not a quake, but a sickening, slow movement. It was like a heartbeat beneath the soil, massive and irregular, a pulse that resonated from the very bedrock. Slowly at first, the earth rose and fell, then came a violent, abrupt shudder that sent loose pebbles skittering and branches raining down.
All eyes, filled with a shared, cold dread, snapped to Ryn. The source of the jungle's unrest stood before them.
---
The First Signs
His hands were already dug into the mud, driven by an invisible force, his whole body trembling violently. The skin of his arms tightened. Beneath the sweat and grime, his veins pulsed, not with blood, but with a faint, internal glowing red light. It was as if his very circulatory system was being replaced by molten copper. A deep, bone-jarring convulsion ran up his arms, seizing them from the wrist to the shoulder. His shoulders violently jerked, a series of rapid, involuntary spasms, as if writhing beneath an invisible, crushing pressure that was trying to force its way out.
Kaen's voice, usually a steady baritone, was sharp with fear and confusion. It cracked on the syllable. "Ryn… Ryn, what's happening?! Fight it!"
His plea was lost. Then came the sound that would forever haunt them: bone snapping. It wasn't a crack; it was a sickening, wet, internal crunch followed by a series of high-pitched snaps as the fine bones in his hands fractured. His fingers elongated unnaturally, the skin straining to contain the transformation, stretching thin and taut. Moments later, claws, black and oily, like sharpened obsidian, burst through the tips of his fingers. The raw, tearing sound of flesh and sinew being violently rearranged echoed across the misty jungle floor. Immediately, steam hissed violently from his wrists and the newly exposed tissue, a thick, superheated vapor that carried with it the intense, metallic stench of blood, cooked and raw.
A scream, deep, guttural, and so profound it bordered on being a roar, tore from his chest—a sound utterly primal, unhuman, laced with a pure, agonizing fury. The trees shivered violently, their leaves shaking loose. The roots—the grasping, black sinews in the earth—twisted aggressively on the surface. Even the distant, hardy jungle birds, creatures that had endured a thousand battles, scattered, shrieking a symphony of terror into the misty canopy.
"Back! Everyone back! Maintain the perimeter!" Ragna roared, his voice cutting through the panic, his twin swords slashing defensively through the air, less at an enemy and more as a ward against the uncontrollable energy. Sparks flared where his cold, tempered metal met the snapping, suddenly aggressive tree roots that were now lunging from the earth.
Riku didn't hesitate; he spun his spear, jabbing its reinforced tip toward a massive, newly formed claw that lashed out too close to the squad line. "He… he's changing! It's the blood!"
Ryn's knees buckled inward, unable to support the rapid restructuring. His chest convulsed again, the sound of his ribs cracking and shifting loud enough to carry over the hiss of steam. Muscles beneath his skin began to bulge and warp, tearing and violently reforming beneath a network of glowing veins of molten red. The steam curled from his skin so thick it began to obscure their vision, an acidic vapor thick enough to sting their eyes and clog their throats. Each exhale was now a hissing blast of heat that visibly shook the soil around his body. The transformation was not just physical; it was an eruption of thermal and kinetic energy.
---
The Squad Reacts
Every member of the squad, despite the sheer, mind-numbing horror, moved with the instinct of veterans. There was no second-guessing, only tactical, desperate reaction.
Darren, the massive shock trooper, was the first to act. He slammed his heavy hammer into the mud, the force of the strike sending fragments of earth, rock, and mud flying in a dense, defensive screen toward the horrific blood-born dinosaurs now emerging from the disturbed soil and Ryn's spilled essence. Each strike was a deep, resonating thud that cracked the struggling roots and forcibly displaced the earth, buying fleeting, agonizing moments of safety.
Draxion, the squad's blade master, swung his long sword in precise, economical arcs, cleaving the newly formed, molten limbs from the emergent, struggling creatures. His movements were cold, calculated—the only one not fully consumed by terror. He executed a sudden, powerful shoulder push, clearing a path of writhing, half-formed creatures directly toward Kaen, an unspoken command to focus on their leader.
Jin moved with terrifying, almost balletic grace, his double swords flashing in rapid, crisscrossing arcs. He cut down multiple small, hissing creatures in a rapid-fire succession that looked more like a dance than a battle. The molten fragments of the creatures sizzled with an acidic sound as they hit the damp mud, leaving small plumes of smoke.
Boran, wielding a hammer that mirrored Darren's, planted his weapon deep into the earth. The resulting shockwaves were perfectly timed and controlled, rippling outwards and knocking two larger, more developed blood-born dinosaurs forcibly backward, clearing the immediate front line for a breath.
Aya was pure, fluid motion. She moved like a shadow in the swirling mist, her twin blades flashing in rapid, complex patterns. She specialized in slicing the molten limbs and sinews of the blood-born creatures, maintaining a constant state of avoidance, refusing any direct confrontation with the rapidly evolving Ryn.
Kaori, the medic, was a darting figure of terrified focus. She moved between them, an anxious blur, patching the shallow wounds, stemming the flows of blood, and, when an opening presented itself, stabbing fiercely at the smaller, ankle-level enemies, her eyes wide with fear but her purpose unwavering.
The forest itself, the very ground they stood on, was now an active combatant, responding to Ryn's transformation. The roots writhed with visible, agonizing speed, the mud churned into a thick slurry, and tree branches snapped and fell under the sheer, uncontained force of Ryn's growing, unleashed strength.
---
Hands to Arms
Ryn's spine arched so violently that his back was a taut, monstrous curve, the loud, sickening sounds of his vertebrae snapping and reforming echoing the internal violence. His torso stretched painfully, lengthening and thickening. His muscles twisted like taut cables, coiling and snapping, his ribs audibly popping out of place and resettling in a new, broader cage. His shoulders widened in a catastrophic burst of energy, sinews snapping like taut wires and reforming immediately into dense, powerful bundles. The steam hissed violently from his skin, and the molten veins, now thicker and brighter, spread across the patches of new, rough, scaled skin that were rapidly forming.
Kaen, seeing a window in the chaos, chose the impossible. He leapt forward, his shadow-stalker blade rising, parrying a devastating swipe from Ryn's newly enormous claws—a strike that could have torn Riku, who was caught too close, clean in half. The impact was shattering, and Kaen was thrown back. Mud, leaves, and pulverized earth exploded into the air from the force. "Ryn… stop! You're—you're destroying us!" Kaen's voice was a desperate, unheard cry.
But Ryn could not hear. His consciousness was a pinpoint of light buried under an avalanche of instinct and primal rage.
Ragna's twin swords, held together for maximum defensive strength, met Ryn's massive claws in a grinding shower of sparks. The ground cracked under the sheer, unbridled force of the collision, the shockwave throwing the smaller, scrabbling blood-born dinosaurs backward in a pile of molten fragments. Riku jabbed with his spear, an attempt to redirect the force, but Ryn's momentum was overwhelming, a tidal wave of biological violence that shoved the young warrior aside.
The squad's formation was fracturing under the sheer weight of the transformation. Mud, debris, and splintered tree trunks flew with terrifying speed. Darren and Boran hammered the ground again in unison, their shockwaves rippling outward to knock the lesser creatures off balance, buying fractions of seconds that felt like lifetimes. Jin's twin swords were a blur, slashing through the mist of debris and molten fragments, carving open paths for Aya and Kaori to weave through the battlefield, patch wounds, and strike where they could.
Draxion moved with precision, slicing at the claws and limbs that threatened the group's perimeter. Every movement was calculated, deliberate—a dance of survival amidst chaos. Yet, even he could not ignore the raw, primal power that emanated from Ryn. The entire forest seemed to react: roots writhing violently, the mud itself shifting beneath each step of the Humandino, as though the jungle recognized the emergence of a predator unlike any it had seen before.
---
Torso and Legs
Ryn's torso arched violently, a horrific symphony of cracking bones and stretching sinews. His ribs snapped audibly and reformed in broader, armored structures. Muscles twisted and ballooned unnaturally, while veins glowed a molten red, snaking across his emerging scaled skin. The thick steam hissed and warped the air around him, carrying the metallic, coppery tang of blood and the earthy stench of torn roots.
His legs elongated next, the sinews coiling like steel cables. Each step left deep impressions in the mud, roots and debris pulverized under the sheer force of his weight. The squad dodged, rolled, and parried as best they could, but even their coordinated attacks barely slowed the relentless tide of Ryn's newly formed power.
Kaen, recovering from being thrown, lunged to intercept a sweeping strike aimed at Riku. The impact sent him skidding across gnarled roots, bark embedding itself into his skin. "Ryn… stop! Please…!" His desperate shout barely pierced the thick hiss of steam and roar of bone-cracking flesh.
Ragna held his swords defensively, blocking two massive strikes in succession. Sparks flew, smoke and vapor billowing with each collision. He ground his teeth as he twisted to keep the blows from landing on his squadmates, his muscles straining under the sheer pressure.
Riku jabbed his spear at Ryn's flank, a feeble nuisance compared to the unstoppable force, but enough to momentarily shift his momentum. Every swing, every defensive maneuver, demanded perfection, timing measured in milliseconds.
---
Senses Overloaded
Inside the maelstrom of transformation, Ryn's own senses betrayed him. Every sound—the snap of wood, the hiss of steam, the cries of friends and monsters—assaulted him with unbearable clarity. Every vibration of the jungle, every pulse from the earth beneath, every scent of mud, blood, and heated scales assaulted his mind. His vision split into jagged, crimson flickers, each step and swing amplified into overwhelming waves of perception.
Pain became his compass. Every snapping bone, every tearing muscle, every burning vein demanded release. His primal rage flared uncontrollably, a wildfire fueled by instinct and agony. The small blood-born dinosaurs, empowered by his essence, lashed out at anyone nearby. The squad fought in perfect, desperate chaos, each movement a blend of fear, instinct, and determination.
---
Full-Body Humandino
Ryn's final transformation convulsed through every fiber of his being. His arms extended to monstrous length, claws scraping and shredding roots and mud. His chest expanded into a reinforced cage of muscle and warped bone. His legs coiled with raw power, ready to propel him in impossible leaps. Amber eyes, molten and feral, scanned his friends for recognition—but humanity flickered only briefly beneath the beastly rage.
He lunged, sweeping a massive claw through the mud. Kaen blocked with his blade, rolling to shield Riku. Sparks flew, molten fragments sizzled, and debris erupted in violent clouds. Ragna met two crushing strikes with his twin swords, while Jin, Draxion, Darren, Boran, Aya, and Kaori coordinated a desperate flurry of attacks and defenses, slicing, striking, hammering, and patching wounds simultaneously.
The ground quaked with each step of the Humandino. Roots tore violently from the earth, mud exploded in thick clods, and every strike threatened to obliterate the carefully maintained perimeter. The squad was being pushed to their limits, battered, bloodied, and terrified—but they refused to fall.
---
Momentary Collapse
Ryn's final lunge faltered. The steam hissed less violently, the molten veins dimming slightly. His claws retracted fractionally, and his amber eyes flickered with the faintest spark of recognition. The monstrous engine of flesh, bone, and rage could not maintain itself.
Then, violently and painfully, the transformation reversed. Scales receded, bones snapped back into human alignment, muscles deflated, and molten veins dimmed to bruised purple. Ryn collapsed onto the mud, trembling uncontrollably, coated in a mixture of earth, blood, and cooling steam. His breathing was ragged, shallow, and every exhale carried the metallic tang of pain and exertion.
Kaen crawled to him, hand trembling. "Ryn… you're back." Relief and terror warred in his voice.
Ragna slowly lowered his swords, muttering under his breath, "Something… something inside him isn't done yet. That wasn't just instinct. That was power finding its vessel."
Riku sank to a knee, gripping his spear, eyes wide and horrified. "He… he attacked us all…"
Darren, Jin, Draxion, Boran, Aya, and Kaori collectively exhaled, their exhausted bodies trembling. They moved closer, patching wounds, checking each other, but the unspoken truth hung heavy: the forest remembered what had happened. It would not forget.