"I am a beast, and yet, I am also a man."
Shrouded in a threadbare cloak that he had lifted from a sand encrusted corpse, Viral hobbled towards the distant light that brought life to the sunless horizon. Loosely clutched in his right hand, the worn hilt of his trusty blade acted as his tie to this listless reality. By squeezing it, he confirmed that his soul, or rather, his mockery of a soul, was still trapped within the glorified corpse he fancied as his body. Which of course led him to the distasteful conclusion that he was not dead. Squeeze. Step. Squeeze. Step. The process continued without conscious thought, almost as if instinct had completely taken over. Was this Spiral King's handiwork? Ever since he had accepted and received his new, allegedly immortal body, there were times when he felt as though he was merely piloting a ganmen of flesh and blood, not his body. Undoubtedly, it was that very sense of disorientation, that sense of artificiality that had caused him to lose to that pubescent monkey. Yes, that was it. The fact that the boy had managed to tap into his latent spiral energy, an evolutionary and or genetic advantage that beastmen lacked, had nothing to with him being bested and failing to protect his king, his god. Two great powers had clashed, and when the smoke cleared, only one remained. Naturally, the monkeys won. That is, the little Kamina and his ensemble of eccentric misfits. While they rejoiced, Viral mourned. The little fools were so caught up with their delusions of grandeur and self-righteousness that they failed to take a sensible, objective view of the consequences that their actions would yield. They were just clawing at the stars, grasping only that which was already there. Air. Freedom. Purpose.
"They call themselves men, but they are less then that."
As he drew nearer to the pale glow of lights, he grew keenly aware of just how exhausted, hungry, and thirsty he truly was. He could feel the acid eating away at the lining of his stomach in its desperate attempts to nourish itself. The taste of bile and other foul things filled his mouth. Something in his peripheral shifted, and in an instant, his blade was out, being swung about madly. His vision blurred as he swiveled his feral gaze wildly about. A man chuckled and Viral spun around, dragging his sword through the air with clumsy momentum. Another chuckle bubbled into the cool night air, and then a shot. Reeling backwards, the enervated beastman went to launch another awkward slash, only to find his sword hand cold and empty. Disarmed and bleeding, he dropped to his knees while gnashing his teeth as his phantasmal assailants. The bastards had cornered him, but their intentions clearly were not lethal. They would have killed him already if that had not been the case. One of them approached him while another came from behind and bound his claws behind his back. There was no reason to struggle, so he bit back the urge to do so. As smooth, hairless features came into focus before his eyes, Viral felt his heart sink and his pride die.
"Well now, lookie' what we have here. I could have sworn you were one of us, but judging from those nasty teeth of yours I'll wager you're a beastie. You do know what we do to beasties, don't ya?" The human asked crouching to make eye contact, his wind-chapped lips convulsing to form a mocking smile. The beastman returned the smile before spitting into his captor's eye. To his credit, the man took the insult rather well. He simply removed the slimy mixture of saliva and mucus with a swipe of his middle finger, and then slowly got to his feet. A few tense moments passed before the blow came. It was powerful and it was painful, but he had felt worse. That particular instance with Adiane came to mind. Letting the blood drip from his lips, he looked up at the human and grinned.
It was then that they beat him unconscious.