Her vision flashed, her body trembling from what she had done. Her world quaved. Her eyes watered, in fear or in joy—no one could tell.
Anne laughed maniacally, her voice trembling, was this the feeling of all those serial killers she had read on the news? It felt refreshing yet disgusting, but it all doesn't matter.
Then like a primal god, IT tore through her world, telling her, "Know why I helped you? Well now you could stop, as I can fulfill your desire—your hunger."
Her world flickered, she saw the once horrendous world in her sight, this time so joyous, she wanted to rule, to make IT's domain hers.
She wandered through the burnt forest with traces of war, wolves howled and human screams tore through the air. Yet she didn't even react—no, she didn't even flinch.
She was cruel, eating the corpses on the grass, human, or monstrous beings, she didn't care. It soothed her unending hunger, the meat tasted flavorful of the things she never felt before—it was unearthly.
Anne was met with the direwolves of this forgotten land, they were ready to bite, to devour a gift from the gods, the scarce prey within these hellish place, it was a treat they thought.
A blade materialized in her hand, dark red glistening in the moonlight, she swung, the blade felt weightless, it gave her experience of those she never went through, it gave her power of those she never met.
It cut through the fur, then hit the skin, the skin as hard as metal, yet the blade sliced through like a flaming knife through soft butter, it sliced through the wolves' organs, taking away their lives.
The howls of those creatures echoed through the world, tearing its existence into reality, the forgotten creation of god—of IT.
Some hailed it as a Demi-god while others feared it as a force of destruction—yet all became a legend. It went into an eternal hibernation, it was waiting, waiting for this moment—for a worthy opponent.
Anne was filled with pleasure, she could only think of one thing. 'KILL,' No matter how big, how strong the enemy is, she didn't care—she couldn't even perceive fear, she was fueled by the force of a god.
On her face she could only grin, she swung the blade once again, yet it wasn't just blocked, the force was absorbed, then it roared. "IS IT YOU WHO HAS DARED KILLED MY OFFSRINGS?" The voice echoed with the roar, leaving Anne in a daze
Fenrir was astonished, what mortal could've done this, and yet, standing infront of it, how could one be so calm, grinning. Even the sight of the blade getting blocked would leave even the greatest of Titans with fear.
Anne didn't care for what the wolf was thinking, she could only swing, and after trial and error, she finally forced Fenrir to notice, she found it's weak spot, a scar, it didn't matter where it came from, as it shall be the wolf's demise.
Fenrir panicked, remembering where that blade came from, from THE god, the one who made him only known as a DEMI-god, the one who striped him of his title, of his dignity, of his fame and power.
It enraged him, blinding him. He was more powerful in a state of rage, sure, but more vulnerable. He didn't care of weak spots, the memory was already painful, it hurt him more than any blade could.
With constant and consistent hits on the scar, it exposed his guts, they fell out slowly, yet he couldn't care less. Finally he had gotten a chance, Anne was exposed, trying to hit him one last time.
He pounded with his colossal paw—as a last ditch effort to kill her before he himself died. The earth cracked, it barely missed her, yet the force made her crash into the ground, her bones broke, her spine cracked from the pure pressure—yet she was still grinning, before blacking out once again...