Once, the sun reshaped him, but now, darkness is his ally. His monstrous body was full of energy, his muscles bulging, and his eyes burned with a crimson hatred of Nasus. He heard the whisperer speak again, but he no longer obeyed the voice's call. He clenched his claws into fists and touched the blade of his axe, imagining what it would be like for the canine-headed samurai to beneath it.

"You have abandoned me in the dark, brother," he said. "You will pay with your life for this betrayal!"

Rengarh of Vastaya is a ferocious hunter. His life is all about the thrill of hunting dangerous creatures. He searched the whole world in search of the most terrible beasts, especially any trace of Kazik. The beast from the void had blinded one of his eyes. Rengar pursues prey, not for prey or glory, but for the intense pleasure of pure hunting.

Reyngar was born into a tribe of flesh-toothed beasts in Vastaya, located in Shurima. This tribe is a tribal that celebrates hunting and is proud of its high level of hunting. Rengar was the youngest son of the tribal chieftain Pongaf. He was born skinny by nature, so Poengaf didn't think he could possibly be a worthy hunter. He abandoned Rengar and left him to fend for himself.

In the end, the young Rengar escaped from the Horde's camp. His father's abandonment was both disappointing and humiliating. He survived on bugs and plants for weeks, until one day he was nearly killed by a legendary hunter named Malcon. Seeing the pitiful appearance of Rengar, Malcon sympathized with his plight and spared him a way out. On the other hand, Malcon did not believe that any Vastaya was worthy of his prey.

For months, Rengar followed Malcon, feeding on the carcasses of the prey he had killed. Rengar still had in his mind that he would one day return to the Horde. So, he's also keeping an eye out for how Malcon hunts.

After a while, Malcon grew tired of the poor flesh-toothed beast following him. He pulled out a knife and put it around Rengar's neck, telling him that the only way to become a hunter was to hunt. He threw a sword at Rengar and kicked him down the ravine, forcing him to complete his first kill in order to protect himself.

Since then, Rengar has been hunting for years, pushing himself to the limit. He traveled all over Shurima and carried out all kinds of difficult and dangerous hunts. Although he was not as large as the other flesh-toothed orcs, he was twice as ferocious as his kind. Time flies, and what he brings back to the camp is no longer bloody scars, but all kinds of trophies. He polished the skull of a sand vulture and braided the teeth of the screaming beast in his braids.

After that, he felt it was time to go home. He returns to his tribe and is ready to be accepted by his people as a true hunter.

However, Pongaf scoffed at Rengar and his booty. He declares that the tribe will welcome him back again only when Rengar brings back the head of the elusive Void Monster.

Carried away by the desire to go home, Reingal lost ground in the battle with the ferocious beast and fled with one eye wounded. Rengar could only admit his defeat to Poengaf in chagrin. As he expected, his father reprimanded him harshly.

As Pongaf spoke, Rengar noticed that all the booty in his father's room was dusty and old. The chieftain of this tribe had not hunted for a long time - he had Rengar go hunting Kazik, probably because he himself did not dare to go.

Rengar interrupted his father's reprimand, calling him a coward. The people of the carnivorous tribe have a sturdy body and enjoy a comfortable dwelling. Rengar, on the other hand, was born with the threat of death. He had to teach himself how to hunt, to take his booty and the scars that would inevitably come with it. And his bloody eye sockets just prove that Reingal, despite his congenital deficiencies, never gave in.

Rengar leapt at his father and disemboweled. The fiercest hunters of the tribe presented him with the Fire Brier, marking his crowning as the new chief of the tribe.

But at this time, Rengar no longer needs the affirmation of this tribe. He just needs the thrill of adrenaline rushing through his veins while chasing his prey. Rengar left the tribe, and he was not at all interested in the spoils that Poengav had left behind—the chief was not to be remembered, but to be remembered as the ferocious creature who wanted to blind him. Rengar embarks on a journey, determined to find it and then kill it.

This killing has nothing to do with the praise of the tribe, but only for self-satisfaction.

Rengar had already smelled blood before he saw a group of dead people. About six people, he thought to himself. But their bodies have been torn to pieces, and it is difficult for Rengar to accurately determine the exact number. Their swords were scattered across the surrounding grass, as useless as dull dinner knives.

He knelt down and licked the blood from the ground.

The tip of the tongue is full of cold, ah, ironware flavor, sweet with a hint of bitterness.

The killing should have been over in less than an hour.

Rengar picked up a stump and found a trail of green saliva hanging from the section of the limb. He put the severed limb in front of his nose and sniffed it carefully.

The saliva smelled of decay, like a rotting corpse in a stinking gutter. Just by sniffing like this, Rengar wanted to vomit, but fortunately, his stomach was far from being comparable to others, so he couldn't hold back the nausea.

He grinned. If a prey leaves such a wound, it is much easier to track.

The Rengar cat was in the bushes and watched as the mane lifted an old man's head with its claws and chewed it raw with its teeth. It howled a few times in disappointment, apparently not satisfied with the lack of chewing.

The huge four-legged monster paced near the old man's camp, trampling the tent to shreds with one foot. Then it began to bite at the tent again, throwing rags all over the floor.

When the monster jerked up the old man's bed, it let out a pleasant howl. At the same time, Rengar heard a little boy screaming.

Ah, the little things.

Scared, right? Scared, how good, how delicious.

It's time to eat, it's time to silence the screams, it's time

Suffering?

The pain starts at the back of the neck first. It was intense and scorching. Did something bite it? No. It's something else, again. A sharp sting. It's like a little thing with a weapon. It still seems to be a little thing with a bit of fighting spirit.