My Fusion System: Fusing Weak Soldiers with Direwolves at the Start Chapter 37: Titan Cebereus

When the flas finally dimd, a figure erged, a towering, nightmare-born beast.

Its three heads lood high, each one more monstrous than any dog, with sharp, jagged teeth that glead in the fading light. Its thick, spiked armor glead darkly, like the scales of a primordial dragon, encasing its body in near-impenetrable protection.

Thick chains, wrapped tightly around its necks, rattled ominously as the beast shifted, barely keeping its ferocious rage contained. Blood-red eyes, smoldering with an icy fire, burned into the souls of those who dared et its gaze. From each head, a single tal horn spiraled upward, jagged and sharp.

Its tail, thick as a small tree trunk, lashed behind it, the tal plates covering it scraping against the earth and leaving deep gouges in the ground.

Towering at a fearso eight feet at the shoulder, this creature was the embodint of primal terror. The Titan Cebereus lowered its heads, each one scanning the surroundings in a different direction, letting out a guttural growl that resonated through the air, shaking the very ground beneath it.

Chains dangled from the thick tal bands around its neck, clinking in rhythm with the beast’s movent. It was clear, even to the system, that this monster was a force that required restraint, a creature of imnse power and unrelenting hunger.

[You have successfully created a Titan Cebereus, a formidable beast clad in silver-ranked armour, highly resistant to fire, possessing an irritable personality, a great lust for blood, and an excellent sense of sll. Though dangerous, it is highly loyal to its creator. ]

Kaelor’s heart swelled with satisfaction at the final sentence, a reassuring note amidst the terror. This creature, a near-perfect weapon, would be his loyal companion.

But the sa could not be said for the slaves, who were paralyzed with fear. So of them fell to their knees, their bodies shaking as they stared helplessly at the Titan Cebereus, whose hunger was palpable.

The Dreadclaws themselves seed uneasy, their own deadly nature overshadowed by the sheer ferocity of the beast before them. Even Hound, their leader, would find this creature a difficult adversary should it turn against them.

Kaelor moved forward, unperturbed by the beast’s growls. He reached the Titan Cebereus, who imdiately lay down submissively, sensing its creator’s presence. With a calm, commanding voice, Kaelor spoke, his words dripping with the authority of a king, echoing through the night air like a decree from the gods themselves.

"Obey my command," he said, his gaze steady and unwavering as he looked into each of the beast’s eyes. "And you shall live a life of greatness. Strife against , and you will be slain."

The Titan Cebereus let out a low growl, but this ti it was not of aggression, it was the growl of submission. It understood. This creature, bound by chains but loyal to Kaelor, would follow him to the ends of the earth, should he command it.

But for the slaves, the sight was one of pure terror. The creature, though bound by chains, was an apex predator, a living, breathing embodint of fear. As Kaelor climbed onto its broad back, the ground seed to tremble beneath them.

Vi gasped. When she drew near, one of the heads of the Titan Cebereus would snap its jaws at her while the middle head just watched, silent yet more ruthless.

’Do each head have a mind of their own?!’ Vi was astounded by the miracles created by Kaelor’s gift. It was terrifying in a way but fit for a lord, like the powers of the two great n that existed over a thousand years ago.

’It’s different from mine.’ she smiled bitterly. ’So different.’

"My Lord." Hound approached, his eyes filled with reverence as he stared at Kaelor who was astride such a great beast, thick chains wrapped around his hands.

Kaelor nodded at him. "We have a long journey ahead of us. We should get moving."

....

Three days had passed since their departure. The sun beat down from above like a rciless overseer, baking the dry road and tinting the sky a faded blue.

At the very front of the long, winding convoy rode Kaelor, seated atop the monstrous Titan Cebereus, now simply called Titan.

The great beast’s chains rattled faintly as it walked with heavy, deliberate steps, its three heads swiveling in different directions, each one alert, sniffing the air for trouble.

Behind him stretched a procession of wagons, slaves, and guards. The terrain had shifted; they were now at a bend in the road, flanked on the left by a steep slope cluttered with jagged stones and scattered trees.

The dry earth crunched beneath wagon wheels and tired boots, fortunate that the skies hadn’t wept in days, for rain would have turned this path into a deathtrap.

Though the journey had been harsh, Kaelor had planned well. Food was rationed with precision, barely enough to satisfy hunger, but enough to keep everyone on their feet. The cost had been imnse, but none had starved.

Vi and Mildred had already teleported back to Redwood ahead of them, preparing the town for the wave of arrivals. The burden now rested on Kaelor’s shoulders and Titan’s.

Among the first row of freed slaves walked a gaunt, tall man, bound no longer, but still draped in the posture of one who’d been caged too long. His black hair was matted and wild, and a thick beard clung to his sharp jaw. His eyes, sunken and quiet, lingered on Kaelor’s back.

"...Never in my life did I imagine I’d find myself here," he heard a man mutter, half to himself. "Marching toward the most cursed place on the continent."

The man was a bald man, his lone eye flashing with bitter resignation while the other remained hidden behind a worn leather patch. His na was Philip, the Armour Tailor.

A man of no small skill, yet still shackled to a fate beneath him. His fingers, once deft with thread and leather, now clenched and unclenched at his sides.

"You should be grateful you’re no longer in chains," said Damien, the steward. His posture was firm, his voice calm. "We’ve been fed these three days. Not a man has been whipped. No woman has been touched. No life taken for speaking out of turn." He glanced sideways. "You call this cursed? It’s actually the best we’ve been treated for as long as I can rember ."

Philip scoffed softly but before he could form a retort, an arrow hissed from the right side of the road, splitting the air toward Damien’s head, but in a blur, steel intercepted it.

A massive figure stepped forward, Hound, the largest of the Dreadclaws. His white fur glead under the sun, eyes like twin coals soaked in blood. He stood with his Mountain Sabers raised, its flat side steaming faintly from the force of the parry.

"Bandits!" Hound snarled, voice guttural and savage.

A chorus of rustling branches followed. Dozens of masked figures, faces obscured by red cloth, erged from the dense treeline on the right, crouched along the branches like vultures with blades. They scanned the convoy with hungry eyes, slaves, wagons, horses... the makings of a rich haul.

But then their gaze reached Titan.

The three-headed beast turned, and all six eyes locked onto them.

Chains clinked. Claws cracked the earth. The Titan Cebereus growled, its massive heads rising as if scenting fresh blood. One head let out a deep, thunderous bark that echoed like a war drum.