A fresh coating of fur pierces through the tick’s squishy body. Temporarily protected from the digestive pool, the next memory of pain surfaces. The tick’s flesh bubbles over and violently deforms. Bursting from the freshly mangled body comes a gargantuan chitin-clad limb. Shooting straight upward, it pierces the stomach wall, evoking a violent shaking from the moose. The now turbulent pool of stomach acid sloshes wildly from which the small fluffball rises. As it slowly swings, its hair begins falling off in clumps. Creeping across the surface, a strange indent forms across the tick’s body.

Beneath the newly formed indent, something flickers wildly as if searching. The indent is slowly worn down from the swift movements, leading to a tear beginning to form. The soft flesh gives way to an empty eye, the thought behind which was still forming. The once all-consuming instinct to feed drowns admits Calamity’s desire for power. Albeit hazy, Calamity once again regains control of its thoughts. Its singular eye scans the surroundings as several more indents fail to form. Despite having reached the destination it seeks, something has gone horribly wrong. Calamity no longer possesses the power to win from within.

Suspending itself above the deadly pool of acid, the monstrous jelly thinks for days. Calamity comes to the horrifying realisation that there is no victory. There is no escape. The only option was to fall into the pit of pain. This lingering feeling was not pain nor the fear it learnt recently. The newfound panic causes its body to ripple in a desperate attempt to stumble upon a winning form. Amidst this profound panic, it suddenly hears a wet plop. Atop the acidic pool, a ripple spreads out caused by a small insect. The small, segmented body slowly sinks under Calamity’s gaze. Its mind shifts from panic to excitement; there was still a path to victory.

Time begins to blur for the belly-bound monster. Ever since that first ant fell in nothing else has been eaten. Calamity’s excitement slowly mixes with impatience; it only needs one more insect to absorb. Plop. Without hesitation, Calamity’s singular eye scans the stomach only to see another insignificant ant. If that had been anything but an ant, it would’ve been able to start producing the spider’s venom in addition to preventing its own fall. The empty eye begins to drift before snapping back. There was movement under the ant, a strange waving of something thin. Curious about the cause, Calamity employs its spare slasher, a modified spider leg, to retrieve it. Its excitement spikes as it sees the ant clutching another fuzzy winged insect.

Wilderness grasses, once secure, are stolen from the land to begin their journey. Their bodies succumb to the crushing pressure as they prepare to slide into eternal slumber. Freshly devoid of the stomach’s desire, the berserker moose begins to trot. Those once actors in the quiet grasslands skitter away, thereby transforming fiction into reality. The shimmering surface of the water captures the moving behemoth’s routine visit. With each cycle of falling rays, the moose embraces its routine. With each passing day, its desires are sated, yet its body has long since enjoyed peace. Settling down alongside the last blissful rays, the moose's eyes settle, and its worn muscles dream of the normalcy seemingly lost to time.

In the absence of light, the berserker’s head throbs in warning of approaching danger. His eyes droop open as his sleeping muscles slowly wake. The moose sways his head in search of the trespasser upon his territory, whilst gobbling down air. The nearby leaves give way to a sole furred creature hosting a sombre rage in its eyes. It was unusual to see a wolf hunting alone, even more so that one of its ears had prematurely ended. An instant later, the strange battle begins between the behemoth and the predator. With each movement, the moose’s muscles struggle to keep pace as they used to as their fibres begin to unravel. Could he let himself end like this?

Hooves crash uneasily as the moose surrenders itself to its base instincts. All the knowledge he has accumulated flows away from his mind for the sake of victory. The warm feeling of its flowing blood chills as his heart is spurred on by his species skill ‘Rampage’ to beat faster. The world seems to slow as reinvigorated muscles betray the expectations of the air. The wolves’ eyes no longer reflect prey. Sparing no time for its foe, the moose slams the insolent intruder. The wolf's limp body is sent crashing into the nearby shrubbery. The reasonless behemoth’s head soullessly drifts, locking eyes with the wolf who understands this battle has been lost.

The grace of sight descends upon the cavern of arrival. Under the calm rays lay a frail behemoth covered in a coat of its own ever-flowing blood. The eyes beneath their lids refuse to respond to the day’s call in favour of remaining in the night’s comfort. If not for the stomach’s selfish demands, the beast may not have begun its routine. With great effort, its hooves rise and fall in search of the meal it shall eat today. Its trail, once marked solely by deep imprints, is now accompanied by a crimson streak. Responding to its exhausted body, the moose's breathing intensifies alongside a growing feeling of wrongness. Eyes often used in the pursuit of food reflect an impossible sight. In melting vision, slithering tendrils constrain their hosts' struggling bodies, robbing them even of the right to breathe. Where once a behemoth stood, now lies its corpse thinly coated in foreign muscle from which several indents begin to form.

The lightless night begins, and most surrender to the allure of slumber. Within this embracing night, once active eyes scattered across Calamity’s cocoon slowly close and shrivel away. From the cocoon form two black antlers, accompanied by eight spider-like limbs. As the cocoon is torn apart, two giant ant mandibles emerge, paving the way for a grotesque rat-like head. A crude orchestra of flapping wings, high squeaks and reverberating moos fill the air. As the final shimmers of day turn to night, the cocoon begins swirling, forming the last parts of Calamity’s newest form.

Released from its constricting cocoon, the clawed feet grip the blood-soaked ground. With the absorption fully finished, the fleshoid’s new body was completed. Calamity’s new moose-like form stands motionless in the dark, a strong exoskeleton slowly armouring the monster. A low growl passes through several rows of teeth and a pair of silk glands. As the distorted roar greets the world, Calamity begins to move. Trailing behind is a long black tail adorned with sinister rows of large claws. With each movement, the exoskeleton cracks, grass forming to fill the gaps. Across the body, eyes slowly begin forming, exploring where sight is needed in this new form. As the final eye begins to open atop Calamity’s forehead, it activates the skill it gained from the forgotten tick. In the next moment, the hideous monster melts into the night.