The roar of the bear still vibrated in the bus/tree zone, a deep, primeval sound of pure, untamed ferocity. The first Windigo-Mom was gone, dissolved into the bear's maw, but three more of them still stood, their gaunt forms flickering in the false sunlight. This wasn’t a casual skirmish anymore. Another Mom-did-go shrieked, a sound like nails dragged across broken glass, and launched herself forward. Her absurdly long arms stretched, blurring as she tried to encircle the bear’s head, her razor nails poised to slice into its eyes. But this bear wasn’t like the schoolyard bullies, that I was used to seeing. It was a beast. With a snarl that seemed to shake the very foundations of my newly forming dungeon, it surged forward, ignoring the attempted attack on its head.

  It simply countercharged.

  The Windigo-Mom, agile but lacking true weight, wasn't able to dodge the sudden, overwhelming momentum. The bear’s heavy, steaming paw, the size of a small boulder, slammed down. A wet, sickening thud vibrated through the ground, and I winced. The Mom-did-go was flattened, trampled into a pulpy, shadowy mess. Her outfit which was already tattered, was reduced to shreds plastered against the floor. Blood, thick and shimmering like oil, oozed from the crushed form, staining the grass. There was no more screaming, just a choked gurgle as the ethereal essence of the creature dissolved into a spreading pool.

  Before I could fully process the sickening display, the third Windigo-Mom, perhaps driven by a monstrous, territorial hunger, sprang. She was faster, lower, aiming for the bear’s vulnerable underbelly. She connected, her razor nails raking across the corrupted fur, drawing void-tar instead of blood. The bear roared again, a sound of pure, unadulterated fury that clawed at my ears.

  Its response was instant, a blur of black fur and snapping jaws. The Windigo-Mom didn't have time to pull back. The bear’s massive jaws clamped down, not around her head, but around her torso, trapping her mid-attack. I watched, horrified and morbidly fascinated, as the creature was lifted clear off the ground. She wasn’t killed instantly. Her screams were a high-pitched, broken sound as the bear’s powerful jaws began to work.

  Shredded. The word didn't do it justice. Her body was ripped apart piece by piece, the thin, pyjamas tearing like wet paper. The bear shook its head, a dark, hulking shadow against the light passing between the trees, and another limb, impossibly long and still clawed, was detached with a sickening snap. A moment later, a leg followed. The horror was visceral, the very air seeming to thicken around me.

  Raw, uncontained mana, released from the violent destruction of my monster, poured out. It wasn't just a trickle; it was a deluge, staining the very atmosphere of my dungeon. The air seemed to shimmer and distort through the thick, mana haze that now permeated the space, making it difficult to breathe, tasting metallic and sickly sweet on my tongue. Or was I just having a panic attack?

  The bear finished its gruesome meal, its muzzle stained with the viscous tar. It stood panting slightly, its glowing eyes still fixed on the remaining two Windigo-Moms, who were now backing away, their usual aggressive stance replaced by a quivering, uncertain fear.

  A cold sense of power bloomed in my chest, a familiar warmth flowing into my core. Experience points and mana, greater than before, flooded into me, a tangible rush from the bear's brutal efficiency. This was the reality of my dungeon. My monsters, my extensions, are designed to be terrifying to others.

  But in here, now, they were just… prey? Was I going to be a victim again? I wanted to win!

  Only one Mom-did-go remained now, circling slow and low, bleeding dark energy from a ragged, impossible gash in her neck, a wound that should have killed anything else, but only seemed to fuel her unnatural stillness.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat, tasting ash, forcing the emotion back down like poison. Guilt would just get the last one killed. I focused, forcing my mind past the screaming images burned into my retinas. The bear had drawn blood. So much blood. But this wasn’t over. Not yet.

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  The last Mom-did-go didn't circle out of caution, but out of predatory focus. Her head was tilted at an impossible angle. Her movements were jerky, almost broken, but fueled by an unnatural, desperate drive. She was hunger, I could feel it, a relentless machine of pure will. My growing will.

  The bear, though momentarily stabilized, was still a wreck. Its ruined leg trailed glistening black gore, each step of agony made visible. The void energy it had absorbed fought a losing battle against the lingering poison and the sheer physical trauma it had endured. Its roars were less thunder now, more ragged, desperate bellows, splattering dark phlegm.

  With a sudden, impossible burst of speed, the last Mom-did-go launched herself. She didn't use her damaged legs to run, but scuttled forward in a horrifying, crab-like rush, her arms blurring. She went low, aiming not for the bear's throat, but for the shredded ruin of its back leg.

  She hit like a cleaver. Her remaining hand, tipped with those impossibly sharp nails, plunged deep into the wounds, not just scratching, but gouging. She hooked her fingers into the torn muscle and sinew and pulled.

  A sound like tearing roots and wet cloth filled the air. The bear screamed a raw, animalistic shriek of agony that tore through the relative quiet. Cartoon villain green blood erupted from the leg and neck wounds anew, spraying in a hot, greasy mist. The Mom-did-go didn't let go. She hung there, a grotesque barnacle of energy and rage, actively shredding the remaining muscle and snapping ligaments within the wound.

  The bear thrashed wildly, a colossal engine of pain and rage. It tried to shake her off, tried to stomp her, but she was locked on, a death tick burrowing deeper. It reared back, roaring, and swiped blindly with a massive, blood-soaked paw. The blow caught the Mom-did-go on the side, a sickening thud that should have pulped her.

  Instead, her form flickered violently, void energy trying to reinforce her damaged frame against the brutal impact. She didn't release her grip on the bear's leg. The impact only seemed to drive her deeper, her nails scraping against the bone with a horrible, grating sound.

  The bear’s injured leg gave out completely. The tissue was too damaged, too comprehensively torn and poisoned. It collapsed sideways with a ground-shaking impact, landing in a heap of steaming fur, blood, and void tar.

  The Mom-did-go was still attached to the leg, a dark shape clinging to the ruined limb. With the bear down, she didn't stop. She began to move further up the limb, tearing and biting at the already destroyed flesh, as if trying to consume the very source of its mobility.

  The bear’s eyes, wide and wild with pain, fixed on her. It knew. It was dying, and this broken thing was dismantling it piece by agonizing piece. Its chest heaved, its roars weakening into gurgling coughs that expelled more fluids.

  Then, the void energy within it began to fail. Not a fizzle, but a collapse. The tar-like energy that had given it unnatural strength and resilience started to drain from its body, leaking from every wound, every orifice. It poured from its eyes, its nose, its mouth, and its ears, forming glistening green rivulets on the ground.

  The bear's massive form began to convulse. Not just twitches, but violent, full-body spasms as the void energy ripped itself free. Its skin darkened, becoming cracked and brittle. The steaming intensified, but it was no longer the steam of internal pressure, but the visible evaporation of corrupted energy from a dying host.

  The Mom-did-go, still attached to the leg, seemed to feed on this expulsion of energy. She burrowed deeper into the ruined limb. The monster’s domain of hunger only grows more as it starts to consume the beast.

  With a final, shuddering gasp that was more a wet rattle than a roar, the bear went still. The light in its eyes faded, replaced by a dull, opaque blackness. The torrent of void tar slowed, then stopped, leaving behind a massive, ruined carcass that rapidly began to decay, its fur dulling, its flesh sloughing away in visible chunks as the corrupting energy that held it together dissipated.

  The Mom-did-go detached herself from the cooling leg, covered head to foot in the villainous green, viscous void tar and the bear’s dark blood. She stood there for a moment, utterly still, her damaged form silent and imposing beside the rapidly decomposing remains of her kill.

  The last Mom-did-go turned her head, the impossible angle of her neck making it seem like she was looking at me out of the corner of her eye. There was no triumph in her stance, no relief. Just a chilling, unnatural stillness with a hungry look in its eyes.

  “It wants more,” I whisper and then smile. “So do I.”

  The fight was over. But the mess… the mess was just beginning.