"You really are a hero with an incredibly tough physique!!! My venom should have been able to melt your body in a matter of seconds."
That enormous rat who called himself Ruuttus showed no reaction to the fall of his royal guard, but, unseen, his tail curled around itself and sweat broke out on his bare skin.
Decades had passed since he had faced an adversary, someone capable of making him feel fear; something inside him said: 'Do not provoke his wrath, beg, kneel and ask for mercy, even though you know it is in vain.'
The human before you will claim your head as a symbol of his hunt, the hunt for one of the last kings of the rats.
William tilted his head, a question mark forming in his mind; unconsciously, he glanced at his left wrist, empty, devoid of the familiar bracelet made of silver skulls.
The amulet given to him by that old kobold in exchange for sparing his life, which allowed him to understand the language of the beasts and various creatures that shared the world with humans.
"What can we do to make you reconsider your next move and turn back the way you came?" Ruuttus waved his long hands in a broad, generous gesture. "Perhaps a little gold might persuade you."
And from his long nails appeared, without warning, a gleaming gold coin, perfectly round and bearing the delicate, intriguing 'effigy' of a dragon biting its tail; the coin shone even brighter in the light of the fire that illuminated it.
'Or perhaps tens, hundreds or thousands of them might make you change your mind.'
Thousands of coins fell from Ruuttus's hands as he spoke those words; they appeared out of nowhere, filled the Rat King's hands, and then joined their sisters in the small, growing mountain of gold coins at Ruuttus's feet.
William watched the round gold coins with some interest, his hands clasped behind his back, wrist to wrist, his pointed, sharp black claws stained with blood, hidden from the Rat King's gaze.
Ruuttus knew he didn't stand a chance against William; he was not a creature that excelled in hand-to-hand combat; he was tougher than an ordinary rat-man, but his strength was less than that of a troll, and his fur and skin were, at best, tougher than those of a werewolf.
His true strength lay in his venom, in the plagues and curses he could summon, devise and cast.
The figure before him was able to withstand, without wincing in pain, one of the most potent poisons he could produce—something capable of harming even a wyvern.
''Crack''
The sudden crackling behind Ruuttus made him turn; the slender glass bottles of various colours had crashed noisily to the floor, and the sweet wine, with a rich oak aroma and a velvety sheen, spilled across the floor of the room.
The droplets even stained Ruuttus's whiskers, Black Phillip's hooves and the folds of skin on the pale man.
Black Phillip was standing behind him, and Ruuttus only managed to hear the first few words he uttered before his consciousness plunged into total and eternal darkness.
"Behind you…!!!"
William's powerful, thick legs, covered in glossy fur, closed the distance between him and the Rat King in the blink of an eye.
William's cathedral of sharp fangs, gleaming like silver in his Grimm form, met no resistance whatsoever as it crushed Ruuttus's last remaining heads.
There were two reasons why William had paused in his tracks to listen patiently to Ruuttus's squeaks, gestures and expressions, waiting for a lapse in the Rat King's guard, who always seemed attentive to his every slight bodily movement; he could see his whiskers twitching in the air in his direction.
After all, it was a rat, perhaps a little larger than normal; it was used to fleeing, and he had no time to play cat and mouse with Ruuttus.
The second and more important reason was the silent counter on his system's screen: sixty seconds between each form was the restriction a young 'skin changers' had to endure before reaching adulthood.
If you had a talent for your gift, the time required would be halved once you turned eighteen, and if you didn't, it could even increase.
That is why it was important for every member, descendant and heir of the Stone family to have at least a mastery of weaponry; William received training in the use of the spear and Victoria Stone received professional training in firearms, so that neither would find themselves defenceless if, by some twist of fate, they found themselves in an environment where their skills proved useless.
(Exactly sixty seconds of cooldown between each shape-shift; it's not a big problem in a controlled situation, but in this one, where I can't rely on my armour or my swords, it's a real… nuisance.)
William had never had any trouble shifting continuously between different beasts, from a swift snowy owl with feathers as white as snowflakes to a huge arctic wolf and from there to a massive black bear.
This was a passive effect of his beast rings of which he was unaware.
Black Phillip had seen that young human 'shed his skin' once again and finally realised who he was dealing with.
'I knew it would be pointless trying to reason with him, Ruuttus. You just had to pay a little attention with one of your six eyes—or rather, the four you still had—and watch his gaze.'
''He doesn't understand a word of what we're saying, and he doesn't seem to care either."
The sudden noise that caught Ruuttus's attention was Black Phillip, kicking the long wooden table with his hoof and all his might, sending it crashing into the opposite wall and splitting it in two.
"Who are you?" said Pale Man, still with no idea what on earth was going on. "State your name!!"
"Haven't you realised yet?" replied Black Phillip, blood still trickling from his wounded arm. "He's a Aimotheros."
"A 'Aimotheros'? Is he some sort of king of the humans?"
"I've no idea about the humans, but I'd say he's a king amongst his own kind." —Black Phillip rummaged through one of the small leather pouches hanging from his belt.— A King amongst the Outcasts, amongst the shape-shifters, superior to werewolves, werebear, Werejaguar...!!!"
"Enough, he's just a wolf..."
The enormous Grimm had, with the greatest reluctance in the world, eaten a piece of Ruuttus's liver, after slashing open his back with one of his long, sharp claws.
(I should stay a little longer than half the time... the pale man isn't much of a problem; without any special abilities, he's no different from the two enormous rats before.)
(The problem would be the black goat; I have no information on him.)
After pulling his blood-covered snout out of Ruuttus's flesh, William charged with a wide leap straight at Black Phillip; time was running out and if he didn't hurry, he wouldn't be able to scan the entire hall before he had to go out there.
"So I'll just keep going!!!"
William's words turned into a howl in the throat of his Grimm Skin.
"FlAGARE!!!"
Black Phillip shouted as he threw a mushroom with a black cap into his mouth and pushed the air with his other hand.
William felt as though a thick layer of gelatine were slowing his movements; soon, black flames burst uncontrollably from the black goat's mouth.
A sea of fire effortlessly flooded more than half the hall; a wall of flames so hot they seemed capable of melting the stone pillars it had swallowed whole, the iron brackets supporting the torches were already beginning to melt into liquid iron.
"That should give me time to get the hell out of here!!!"
With his long black chalk in his hands, Black Phillip crouched down and drew a large circle on the wall—a new chalk door, an escape route, his lifeline.
He rushed through it without looking back, heading into the dark forest of leafy poplars. He had nothing to gain by facing the enemy head-on, nor was he even sure he'd survive.
His thick hooves left deep tracks in the leaf-covered mud of the forest floor; he ran with all his might; the plan was to put distance between himself and the chalk door, until it closed with the passing of time.
He hadn't taken five steps before a pair of powerful jaws bit down fiercely on his heel; Black Phillip fell to the ground and was dragged along. He could feel his bones snapping under the bite of the enormous black wolf behind him.
William shook his head vigorously and hurled Black Phillip back into the hall; the pale man standing in his way was knocked over by the flying body, and now the two lay on the dusty floor, one on top of the other.
William had to crouch down to pass through the chalk door on his return to the hall; with some disappointment in his heart, he felt it was a waste to use one of his 'Principalis Forma' to deal with them.
(It was my mistake to expect anything decent from predators who only hunt children and avoid adults...)
William used his hind leg to close the chalk door and, with his front leg, crushed Black Phillip's black chalk to dust.