The blow connected, slamming into the Alpha's side, sending it skidding backward, claws digging into the dirt to stop itself. Alpha growled. Then—it laughed. "Heh… you're good. No wonder my pack have trouble with you."
Ben flexed his fingers. His body morphed again, his four appendages shifting—two into whips, one into a drill, the last curling into a barbed spike. His grin widened. "You haven't seen shit yet."
Then he attacked.
Whips lashed. Claws clashed. Sparks flew as their bodies blurred, moving faster than any ordinary eye could follow.
Ben's drill screeched against hardened chitin, the force alone sending shockwaves through the air. The Alpha countered, twisting its arm into a spear, thrusting forward.
Ben's body snapped to the side, the spear barely grazing his ribs—but he caught it. His barbed spike shot out, clamping onto the Alpha's limb, locking it in place.
The Alpha's eyes narrowed.
