Fangs and Fury : Dual System of the Godslayer

Darkness enveloped Terry, a cold void where time and space ceased to exist. There was no sound, no pain, just a lingering awareness of his last moments: the claws, the blood, and the monstrous gleam in Mr. Wesdon's golden eyes. He had died—of that, he was certain. 

But then came the fall. 

Terry's senses returned in a rush, though everything felt off, as though he were experiencing the world through a warped lens. His body felt heavy, alien, and the air smelled of damp earth and ash. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dim light around him. 

He was lying in a barren field beneath a sky of swirling gray clouds. Strange, jagged mountains loomed in the distance, and the ground beneath him was cracked and dry, riddled with veins of glowing crimson. 

"Where… am I?" Terry muttered, sitting up. His voice sounded different, rougher. 

A sudden chime echoed in his mind, followed by a calm, mechanical voice. 

**[Welcome to the Deadworld. Slave System activated.]** 

Terry froze, his mind racing. "Slave… system?" 

Before he could process the words, a glowing blue screen materialized in front of him, floating in the air like a hologram. 

---

**Name**: Cunis Vod 

**Status**: Slave 

**Owner**: Wesdon (Tier 2 Slave Master) 

**Rank**: E-Class Slave 

**System Abilities Unlocked**: 0% 

**Primary Mission**: *Survive and serve.* 

---

The name *Cunis Vod* flashed repeatedly, and Terry felt his stomach twist. "What the hell is this?!" he yelled, swiping at the screen, but it didn't disappear. 

"You're awake." 

The voice was soft, almost hesitant. Terry whipped his head around to see a young woman standing nearby, her posture stiff. She wore tattered gray clothing, her feet bare and covered in dirt. Her hair was dark and matted, and her eyes held a hollow look. 

"Who are you?" Terry asked, scrambling to his feet. 

"I'm Curl," she said simply. "One of the other slaves." 

"Slaves?" Terry echoed. He glanced down at himself for the first time and froze. His hands were rough and calloused, and his body was taller and broader than it should have been. He was wearing the same tattered gray clothing as Curl. 

A wave of nausea swept over him as the system notification repeated in his mind: **Name: Cunis Vod.** 

"This… this isn't my body," Terry whispered, panic rising in his chest. "What's happening to me?" 

Curl studied him for a moment before sighing. "You must be new," she said. "You'll get used to it." 

Terry shook his head, backing away. "No, I won't. I'm not supposed to be here! I died!" 

"We all did," Curl said matter-of-factly. 

Terry froze at her words, staring at her. "What?" 

Curl gestured to the barren landscape around them. "This is the Deadworld. Everyone here is dead. And if you're here…" She hesitated, glancing at him warily. "It means you're a slave now." 

The weight of her words hit Terry like a freight train. Dead. A slave. He wanted to scream, to deny it, but the harsh reality of the Deadworld left little room for doubt. 

Before he could say anything, a loud, cheerful voice called out, "Hey! Another one joins the club!" 

Terry turned to see a lanky man approaching. He had a boyish grin and an easygoing stride, but like Curl, he wore the same tattered clothing. 

"Soden," Curl said, nodding toward him. 

"Cunis Vod, huh?" Soden said, squinting at the blue screen still hovering in front of Terry. "Nice to meet you, new guy. Welcome to hell." 

Terry stared at him in disbelief. "How are you so calm about this?" 

Soden shrugged. "It's better than where I came from. At least here, I know who's in charge." 

"And who is in charge?" Terry asked, though he had a sinking feeling he already knew. 

Soden grinned, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Wesdon, of course. Our glorious master." 

Terry felt his knees go weak. "Mr. Wesdon?" he croaked. 

"You know him?" Curl asked, her voice sharp. 

Terry nodded slowly, his stomach churning. "He… killed me. He's the reason I'm here." 

Curl and Soden exchanged a glance, but before either could respond, a loud, commanding voice cut through the air. 

"New slaves, assemble!" 

The voice was deep and menacing, and Terry felt an invisible force compelling him to move. He glanced at Curl and Soden, who were already heading toward the source of the voice, their expressions grim. 

"Come on," Curl said, jerking her head toward the direction they were walking. 

Terry followed reluctantly, his heart pounding. 

They arrived at a clearing where several other slaves were already gathered. Among them was a burly man with a scowl etched permanently into his face. He stood apart from the others, his arms crossed and his gaze full of disdain. 

"That's Gorz," Soden whispered to Terry. "Don't expect him to help you. He only looks out for himself." 

Before Terry could respond, the air grew heavy, and a figure stepped into the clearing. 

Mr. Wesdon. 

But he was no longer the man Terry remembered. His human guise was gone, replaced by the hulking, terrifying form of the werewolf. His golden eyes swept over the slaves with predatory glee. 

"You all belong to me," Wesdon growled, his voice sending shivers down Terry's spine. "You live to serve me, and you die for my purposes. Failure will not be tolerated." 

Terry clenched his fists, anger and fear warring within him. This was the creature that had killed him, that had dragged him into this nightmare. 

"You," Wesdon said suddenly, pointing a clawed finger at Terry. "Step forward." 

Terry hesitated, but the invisible force compelled him to obey. 

"Cunis Vod," Wesdon said, his lips curling into a cruel smile. "Do you know why you're here?" 

Terry swallowed hard. "Because you killed me." 

The werewolf chuckled, a low, sinister sound. "Yes. But you're here because I allow it. You're mine now, just like the rest of them. Remember that." 

Terry's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. 

Wesdon's gaze shifted to the rest of the group. "Today, you begin your service. There's work to be done, and I expect results. Curl, Soden, Gorz—take Cunis and show him the ropes." 

The three slaves nodded silently, and Wesdon turned, disappearing into the shadows. 

As soon as he was gone, the tension eased, and Soden clapped Terry on the back. 

"Well, that went better than expected," he said with a grin. 

Curl shot him a glare. "Don't make light of it. You know how dangerous he is." 

Soden shrugged. "I'm just saying, he didn't kill anyone today. That's a win." 

Terry felt a wave of nausea at how casually they spoke about their situation. "What kind of work does he expect us to do?" 

"Anything he wants," Gorz said, his voice low and cold. He didn't even look at Terry as he spoke. "And you'd better do it without question if you want to survive." 

Curl sighed, her expression softening slightly as she turned to Terry. "Come on. We'll show you the camp." 

As they led him through the desolate landscape, Terry's mind raced. He was trapped in this Deadworld, a slave to the very creature that had killed him. But the system notification still hovered in his mind, a faint glimmer of hope. 

**System Abilities Unlocked: 0%.** 

If there was even the slightest chance of escaping this nightmare, Terry would find a way to unlock that system. 

He clenched his fists, determination hardening his resolve. Wesdon might have brought him here, but Terry wouldn't remain his pawn forever. 

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