If you threw Lann into a deathmatch with Ludwig, who'd been tortured into the same freakish shape, this young Demon Hunter would go through the entire fight without being distracted in the slightest by his enemy's appearance.
Because that really would be a battle where he had to steel himself and throw his whole mind into it.
But right now, Lann was a lot more casual.
He watched Henrik silently and neatly unleash a Vital Organ Strike on this twisted Werewolf, and couldn't help grinding his back teeth a little.
It wasn't because of the brutality and gore of Yan Nan Hunters' killing methods; he'd long since gotten used to that.
It was that twisted Werewolf itself.
When Henrik's hand plunged into the tangled mess of dog legs and arms knotted together in its chest and belly, all those other scattered limbs that had grown out of the Werewolf suddenly went taut, like they'd felt pain.
