The battle was consumption. It was a symphony of death.
To the curse monsters, the Devouring Beast was a predator of impossible light in their world of shadow. Where it moved, they scattered.
Orion piloted the beast, a relentless hunter in the crimson dark. He chased down the nearest monster, then the next, and the next. With each one he caught, he devoured, and with each one he devoured, he grew.
Slowly, the Devouring Beast's body swelled, its power escalating. In that crimson haze, Orion felt a surge of intoxicating might, a feeling of absolute dominion over this forgotten corner of his own bloodline. The land was his. The creatures in it were his prey.
Without him even realizing it, the Devouring Beast had grown to the size of a small hill. Its hide was now a layer of thick, jagged scales, and its back bristled with the same kind of spines as the curse monsters. Its eyes glowed with a feral, concentrated rage.
