Yarin's POV:
The feeling of 'eating' someone was quite strange. I couldn't really digest him, so I had to 'chew' on him like a piece of gum.
... Wait, why was I so nonchalant about the act of eating people?
Oh well, it didn't matter. I'd already eaten, so let us first settle the score with this jerk.
"If you're just a disgusting pedophile, then prison is where you belong.
"But what drove you, a non-devotee, to cause chaos in the werewolf pack? I don't understand where you found the courage. There are many legends about supernatural beings on the human side, right? Don't you understand the meaning of 'wolf' in 'werewolf'?
"Humans, such fragile creatures. A small wound could take your life. Your strength comes from unity, not individual prowess. You've forgotten this fact, so you dared to act recklessly. You think you can make waves but are just a jumping clown.
"Trash like you has brought so much evil to the Lycan Pack. I admit I was negligent. If I had known who you really were, I wouldn't have just sent you to prison like that.
"But it's not too late now. Let's settle the score between you and me."
Tyle truly was an inadequate devotee of the dark god. Following the Lily of the Valley, he should have witnessed numerous gruesome scenes, so why was he now screaming like a donkey wrapped in a mass of flesh?
"You're using such foul language; it's irritating."
Impatiently, I cut his vocal cords. He began to scream silently, making choking sounds in his throat.
I broke his growing bones one by one, sharp spurs digging into his own shoulders. His bone wings were dismantled and scattered, thrust into his limbs.
I looked eagerly at his wounds. What kind of blood would he have? Since he received power from Azazel, it must be black, right?
But I was disappointed. His blood remained crimson, with no special traits.
"So, you're just an ordinary guy after all." I looked at him discontentedly, as if watching a television with poor reception. "Don't you find it strange? Endowed with the power of a dark god, yet your blood remains ordinary, like a pair of ill-fitting shoes."
But then I grew excited again. "Ah, I understand now. This is why you failed. A feeble body can't bear immense power! Let me help you. I'll completely transform your body, turn your blood black. Then you'll finally become a vessel for your god, just as you wish!"
Tyle cried out in terror. I believed he might have been so scared he had peed his pants, but with foresight, I destroyed his bladder and genitals. After all, I didn't want to soil my own flesh and blood.
"Don't worry, once I'm done with your transformation, you won't feel pain anymore, and you won't die. You're quite skilled at this sort of thing, aren't you? Polluting others with evil power. You should know how a deformed body like this can bring tremendous regenerative power. It's painful, but when pain continually heals under the influence of evil power, perpetual suffering becomes an ease, right?"
I continuously fed my bloated flesh and blood into Tyle's mouth, rapidly devouring his body. Pustules burst open, splattering tissue fluid that burnt like sulfur, scorching holes in his viscera.
Tyle's mouth was torn apart, but no sound came out. He could only silently endure the agony of the transformation.
"I'm truly sorry, but I don't know what it feels like for the people you've tainted. So, I'm just going with my own understanding. Does tissue fluid burning people hurt? You should learn from me; how long did it take for me to get used to it? You can't bear it; that won't do. We've just begun.
"Speaking of which, you must really want a pair of wings like Azazel's, right? It's a pity you only birthed bone wings. No worries. I'll help you fulfill your wish. Let's start with constructing the framework for your wings."
Sharp bone spikes began to grow from Tyle's spine, flesh and skin continually being punctured and then healing. The pale, menacing bones were as sharp as spears, winding and twisting, with drops of reddish-brown blood falling continuously.
"Look, our transformation is halfway to success. Your blood has already started turning black, but we're still far from success. For example, these wings. If there were only bones, what would be the difference between you and the trash that created you? We need to add some flesh and feathers. Even if you can't fly, they should at least look good."
So, the recently healed flesh and skin suddenly began to crack and expand again, spreading along the path of the bone wings. Of course, this process came at a price; the flesh had to split, forming countless fissures and then healing constantly. This cycle continued, inevitably causing pain. But that was the price of metamorphosis, wasn't it?
The flesh wasn't enough; what to use for feathers? Since there were no ready-made chicken or goose feathers, I had Tyle split out thin pieces of skin. These translucent, feather-like skin fragments swayed slightly in the flow of air. They weren't very similar, but they possessed a postmodern artistic beauty!
And Tyle? He seemed entirely unappreciative of my assistance. His expression was blank, unmoved—a truly ungrateful fellow.