My Free Will System: Transmigrating Into My Favorite Immersion Game

Thane's transformation had altered the very fabric of the battlefield, casting chaos over every corner. His monstrous form, now completely unrecognizable as human, seethed with raw, demonic energy. His once cunning and strategic mind had degraded into something primal, driven by nothing more than rage and a twisted sense of survival.

The creature before Lord Varric was not just a man twisted by power, but an embodiment of the madness that came from surrendering oneself entirely to demonic power.

Thane snarled, his new form hunched over, blackened claws scraping against the ground, leaving trails of molten earth. His eyes glowed with a fierce, malevolent light, and his breath came out in ragged hisses. The air around him was thick with the stench of sulfur and decay, a vile miasma that seemed to grow with each of his movements.

His strikes came fast and without pattern, a flurry of slashes and lunges that mirrored the mindless aggression of a wild beast cornered.

Varric, held his twin axes firmly, adjusted his stance. He watched Thane with a calm, measured gaze, his own breathing steady despite the onslaught of violence before him. His muscles were taut, ready to react to every wild swing, every sudden lunge.

Thane's transformation had made him faster and stronger, his moves were unpredictable and savage like animal struck with rabies . But Varric's resolve had hardened; his own strength was bolstered by the bond he shared with the spirit of his wife, and the silent promise to protect his daughter and honor his lost love.

With a bellowing roar, Thane charged. His claws slashed at Varric with unrelenting fury, cutting through the air with the force of a hurricane. Varric met each strike with his axes, the blades ringing against Thane's darkened flesh.

Sparks flew as metal clashed against the unnatural hardness of Thane's skin, each impact sent ripples of shock through the ground beneath them. Despite his monstrous strength, Thane's attacks were uncoordinated, driven by raw emotion rather than skill or strategy.

Varric ducked under a wide swipe of Thane's claws, using the momentary opening to slash at Thane's side with one of his axes. The blade tore into corrupted flesh, eliciting a screech of pain that reverberated through the air.

Thane retaliated with a backhanded swipe that Varric narrowly dodged, the wind from the swing ruffling his hair. Varric kept his movements controlled, each step deliberate, each attack carefully timed. He was probing for weaknesses, testing the limits of Thane's new form.

As they clashed, Varric noticed something: while Thane's power had grown, his monstrous transformation was also making him sloppy. His attacks, though powerful, were often overcommitted, leaving him vulnerable for brief moments. His reliance on brute strength had made him predictable in a different way.

Thane was fast, but his movements were linear; he charged directly, without thought for defense or positioning.

Taking note of this pattern, Varric began to exploit it. He lured Thane into overextending by backing away just before the creature's claws could reach him, then counterattacked with quick, precise strikes. The first few slashes barely broke the toughened hide, but Varric was relentless, chipping away at Thane's defenses little by little.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

For every heavy blow that Thane landed, Varric responded with a calculated strike of his own, each one aimed at weakening the demon-possessed creature's joints and tendons.

Thane roared in frustration, his screeches echoed through the battleground. The demonic entity within him was beginning to lose control, its wails and howls becoming more erratic and desperate.

Thane's movements grew more frenzied, his swings wilder, as if he was trying to swat at an invisible swarm surrounding him. His claws tore at the ground, sending chunks of stone and debris flying through the air, his anger turning the battlefield into a landscape of chaos.

Varric kept his focus, his eyes never leaving his opponent. He knew Thane was growing increasingly unstable, the demonic corruption ate away at what little remained of his sanity. There was an opening here—if he could just exploit the right moment, he could end this once and for all. Discover hidden tales at mvl

As Thane charged once more, Varric sidestepped, swinging his axes in a cross pattern aimed at Thane's chest. The blades bit deep, and Thane howled in agony, stumbling backward. His regeneration was still active, but Varric could see that it was slowing, the strain of constant healing had worn down even the demon's formidable power.

Varric pressed the attack, relentlessly hacking at Thane with a ferocity that matched the creature's own.

But Varric knew this wouldn't be enough. Thane's demonic form was too resilient, and the creature's sheer size and power were overwhelming. Even as Varric drove his axes into Thane's flesh, he could feel the blows losing their impact, the edge of his weapons dulling against the creature's hardened skin. He needed a strategy, something beyond brute force.

That's when the realization hit him—Thane's own strength was his greatest weakness.

"Thane!" Varric shouted, trying to draw the creature's attention. "You think this power makes you strong? You're nothing but a slave to it, a puppet on a string! All this strength, and yet you can't even control yourself!"

Thane let out another guttural scream, charging at Varric with unbridled fury. But Varric stood his ground, bracing himself for the impact. At the last possible moment, Varric twisted his body, letting Thane's momentum carry him forward. As Thane lunged past, Varric looped his mana thread around one of Thane's legs, pulling it taut.

The sudden shift in balance sent Thane sprawling, his massive form crashing into the ground with a deafening thud.

Varric didn't waste a second. He leapt onto Thane's back, driving one of his axes into the base of the creature's spine where Thane had stabbed himself,  the demonic essence was most concentrated there. Thane shrieked in pain, thrashing wildly, but Varric held firm, using his other axe to keep his balance.

He drove the blade deeper, feeling the resistance give way as he severed the flow of corrupted mana.

Thane's body convulsed, the demonic energy within him surged wildly, as if trying to break free. His claws scraped against the ground, gouging deep furrows in his desperation. But Varric was unrelenting, his grip tightened on the axes, forcing them further into Thane's corrupted core.

He could feel the demonic presence struggling, writhing against the intrusion, but Varric knew he had struck at the heart of it.

"This is where it ends, Thane," Varric said through gritted teeth. "Not by strength alone, but by breaking the very thing that gives you power."

With a final, mighty heave, Varric wrenched his axes apart, tearing through the core of Thane's demonic form. There was a blinding flash of light, followed by a burst of energy that knocked Varric back, sending him skidding across the ground. He landed heavily, the breath knocked out of him, but he forced himself to stand, eyes locked on the writhing figure of Thane.

The transformation that had warped Thane into a monstrous entity was unraveling. The demonic form convulsed, the flesh bubbling and boiling as the energy within it collapsed in on itself. Thane's screams filled the air, a cacophony of pain and rage that echoed like a death knell.

His body twisted and shrank, the corrupted skin peeled away in charred flakes, until all that remained was a broken, shriveled husk.

Varric approached cautiously, his axes still ready, but he could see that the fight was over. Thane lay still, his eyes vacant and unseeing, his once proud form reduced to a pitiful, wasted shell. The demonic essence that had fueled him was gone, dissipated into the air, leaving behind only the remnants of a man who had given everything for a power that ultimately destroyed him.

Varric looked down at Thane's lifeless body, his expression a mix of sadness and resolve. As he turned away, the wind carried the faintest echo of a whisper—a voice that sounded like Guinevere's, soft and reassuring. Varric smiled faintly, gripping his axes tightly, and walked away from the battleground, leaving behind the twisted legacy of Thane; a man consumed by obsession and greed.