Becoming a Monster

Chapter 435: Chapter 435: Not Related to the House-Elf

Flashback (Before the fight)

The cats and dogs had yet to make a decision.

They stayed behind the roots when the fighting was still ongoing because the sound of it made their instincts scream that stepping in would be the same as asking to be killed, and because the goblins had already cut their numbers nearly in half overnight.

No one wanted to be the next one dragged off screaming into the dark.

So they waited.

It wasn’t a clean wait either. There was nothing disciplined about it. The dogs paced and sniffed along the wall, claws scraping against bark and dirt, circling back again and again as if movement itself would stop their fear from catching up to them.

Some pressed their noses against the roots, inhaling deeply, trying to make sense of the scents bleeding through from the other side. Others sat, then stood, then sat again, tails stiff, ears twitching at every distant sound.

The cats didn’t dare to drift too far, their ears pivoting, eyes locked on the same gaps between roots as if staring hard enough would force the wall to open.

From time to time, they would climb atop the roots to look over, but none dared to jump down. Every time they poked their heads over, a feeling would wash over them, a feeling as if they were being watched.

The white German shepherd, bearing the traits of both a dire wolf and an angelic lion, sat at the forefront of the group, overseeing the dogs. Its posture remained straight despite the fatigue dragging at its limbs. Its fur still glowed faintly even here, dulled by dirt and dried blood.

On the cats’ side, the lynx-faced panther, also the leader of the cats, sat atop a thick root, tail curled loosely around its body. Unlike the others, it wasn’t tense.

The two leaders had already decided not to do anything yet. Not until the commotion on the other side of the wall calmed down.

But the commotion didn’t seem to calm down anytime soon.

If anything, it grew worse.

The distant clashes blurred together until they were no longer individual sounds, but a continuous pressure pressing in on their senses. The forest itself seemed to recoil.

The smell of blood thickened the air; layered within it was the scent of smoke and burning wood. Even from where they waited, the heat carried through in uneven waves.

It made them more antsy than before. The dogs paced harder now, claws scraping bark, dirt being kicked loose as they circled and doubled back on themselves, noses constantly lifting and lowering as if they were trying to map the chaos through scent alone.

The cats were no better, ears twitching sharply at every new sound, eyes tracking movements that weren’t there, bodies coiled tight despite their stillness.

Curiosity crept in alongside the fear, but it didn’t last. A suffocating pressure burst outward, washing over them all at once. The air grew heavy, thick enough that breathing felt as if it would alert the owner to the presence of their existence.

It was the fear of being insignificant.

The pit bull, standing protectively at the white dog’s side, couldn’t stay still. It looked over to its leader, whose gaze remained fixed on the wall.

”Dog,” the pit bull called out to their leader, whose ears quickly perked up. ”I don’t feel right about this. It smells wrong, more wrong than those things from before.” The pit bull never took its eyes off its leader as it spoke. It was willing to follow whatever decision it chose, because it, nor the rest of their kind, would’ve made it here without it.

Dog took a bit longer to stare at the wall, its ears slumped to its side for half a beat before returning to its usual confident position.

”There’s no other choice, Meat,” Dog said finally. ”There’s nowhere else. I want to know what’s on the other side. That smell spoke to all of us. Just like it did before...”

The other dogs keenly listened to the conversation. Their tails softly wagging with a glimmer of hope as memories surfaced of that scent from the night before.

On the cats’ side, the reaction was far less unified.

Several glanced back toward the dogs with open disdain, ears flattening slightly as if the shared hope itself offended them.

”If I were as foolish as them,” one cat whispered to another, ”I’d have no worries.”

The second cat nodded, eyes half-lidded in agreement.

They didn’t say it louder. Pride kept their voices low because, despite everything, they were standing in the same place for the same reason. A truth they didn’t want to acknowledge. That awareness stung, and embarrassment followed close behind, driving their gazes toward their leader instead.

”Alexandria, what d—oof.”

The speaker barely finished before another cat struck it sharply across the head.

It yelped, clutching its skull and glaring, but the glare faded when it noticed the anxious look on the striker’s face. Realization followed, and the struck cat quickly shifted posture, lowering itself.

”Forgive me! Ale—Alexandria the Third!”

Their leader remained stretched along the thick root, calmly licking dried blood from her paw. She showed no outward displeasure at all.

No one mistook that for approval. The occasional flick of her tail was sharp enough to silence the group. Most of them knew she preferred her full name. Only a few knew why.

She had not always been this. Once, she had been a house cat. Her name had been given to her by an old couple who found her when she was too young to understand she’d been discarded.

They raised her gently, without chains or walls, letting her leave when she wanted, always welcoming her back with food and warmth.

They loved her. Pictures of her lined the walls of that home.

It wasn’t until she grew older that she noticed something wrong. The cats in those pictures looked like her, but they weren’t her. There were others. Each one was named Alexandria.

That was the day she understood. She wasn’t loved for who she was. She was loved for what she replaced.

She left that same day and never returned.

Since then, she had never been comfortable with her identity. It had become a wound she carried quietly. She wasn’t the Alexandria before them. She wasn’t the one before that either.

She was the Third.

The thought passed through her now as she finally stopped licking her paw, eyes lifting toward the wall once more. The aura had faded, but its weight lingered, pressing down on instinct and reason alike.

And they were all still waiting. Alexandria the Third exhaled slowly.

”Enough,” she said at last. The cats stiffened. It was only the hairless cat, whose eyes were always half-closed, who didn’t share the same reaction.

”If they’re dumb and we’re depending on them,” the hairless one added calmly, head tilted just slightly, ”then are we really any better?”

Several of the cats lowered their heads immediately, unable to meet Alexandria’s gaze. A few still bristled, tails twitching with unspoken objections, but whatever words they had prepared dissolved under the weight of her stare.

”If you want to prove who’s superior, then stay alive long enough to prove it.” Her head slowly looked past the wall. ”Listen...”

The cats quieted.

Not all at once, but gradually, as their ears perked and their focus sharpened. It wasn’t just the pressure that had changed. The noise had thinned as well.

”We still have time to fully decide,” Alexandria continued speaking. ”But whatever we decide, we must live. Don’t let your arrogance push you into doing something stupid.”

No one answered.

The battle ending should have brought relief, yet every cat understood what came next. Soon, they would have to go over the wall

Dogs and cats alike refused to speak, refused to move. As long as even a whisper of noise remained beyond the wall, they judged the situation unsafe.

But then, as they were still hesitating, the scent from last night surged again, washing over them in a heavy wave that left them numb from the intoxicating aroma. It tugged at their senses in a way no hunger ever had.

Several dogs whined softly before catching themselves.

The cats felt it too. Their tails fluffed to their fullest extent from overstimulation.

Alexandria’s ears flicked forward. Dog rose to his feet at the same moment. They didn’t look at one another immediately, but when they did, the decision had already been made.

Dog nodded his head once, and Alexandria returned the gesture.

The cats were the first to move, following Alexandria, who didn’t strain herself to climb over. Instead, her body slipped into her own shadow only to remerge at the top of the wall where a tree’s shadow overhung.

Behind them, frustration stirred. Low growls began to grow as the dogs reached the base of the roots, stopping short.

The cats couldn’t help themselves. Tails swayed with barely concealed satisfaction as they glanced down at the struggling dogs, smirking down at them. A few muttered quiet remarks, none loud enough to start a fight, but sharp enough to sting.

That’s when Dog stepped forward. The others parted instinctively, giving him room as he approached the wall. He didn’t rush. He lowered his head, sniffing along the roots, eyes lifting briefly to measure the height before dropping again to the ground.

That only amused the cats further, but Dog simply ignored them. He pawed at the earth just inches from the base of the wall, sniffed again, then spoke.

”Digger,” his voice was met with the scuffling of a creature rushing past all of the others.

This creature was one of the few that looked more like another creature than a dog. The only traits it had left were its tail wagging in excitement and its noticeably longer body, which barely lifted from the ground.

What had once been a dachshund was now a long-bodied, badger-like beast; its forelimbs were thick, while its claws resembled sharp shovels.

Digger started digging immediately before Dog completed his order, plunging his claws into the soil, dirt erupting outward in heavy sprays as the ground parted beneath him.

The earth seemed to yield willingly, collapsing inward as the tunnel took shape with startling speed. Within moments, a passage opened.

One by one, the dogs followed, squeezing through the space, the line slowing only when Meat reached it. His massive body wedged halfway through, forcing the others to push and pull until he finally emerged on the other side in a cloud of dust and irritation.

The cat’s smile faltered, but even still, they still found a way to discredit the dog’s achievement.

”Savages,” one muttered, the same one from before.

”Uncultured beast,” another agreed.

Alexandria didn’t spare them a glance. Her attention had shifted the moment they crossed. From the instant they began moving forward, the hairless cat had been staring in a single direction,

”Dobby, what is I- what is that?” Alexandria quickly noticed the small dark ball floating in the air. It’s one eerie eye observing their every move.

One by one, the other cats noticed it. A few of them could barely contain themselves. The small ball roused an instinct in them that they couldn’t shake off as they were being filled with the desire to pounce.

Dobby’s eyes opened a fraction wider than before. Its blind like eyes seemed to absorb everything in front of it. ”There’s more of them... we shouldn’t touch them. They already know we’re here.”

Dobby’s warning was instantly met with obedience.

If Alexandria earned their respect for her predatory prowess, and her charismatic regal-like bearing. Then Dobby earned their reverence. He was supposed to be blind, and yet he gave the feeling of clairvoyance.

It was he who picked up on the goblins’ crafty traps, avoiding their tracking methods and masking their escape. When it came to things they didn’t understand, they went to him.

”Should we turn back?” Even Alexandria sought his guidance in this situation.

Dobby closed his eyes. His oversized ears twitched, once... twice... then again, as if catching sounds no one else could hear. When his eyes opened, the calm that settled over him was unsettling enough to make Alexandria tense.

”It’s too late... they’re here.”