A thunderous boom of a discharged firearm echoed in that small valley. The bullet traveled true and cavitated Goodenough's neck.  Bluish blood splattered from its entry and exit wounds.

The man's face contorted in pain, yet he was standing still. And finally, he hunched, but not to fall. From his back, four tentacles sprouted out and stabbed themselves into the soil. Myriads of wormy things suddenly squirmed in his wound, his beard blacked, weaving itself together in a series of disgusting phlegmatic sounds as it crawled up to cover his elderly face. It formed a black chitinous visor and finally spread and evolved into what seemed to be a full helmet and armor that covered his head and neck. Several red tentacles squirmed out from the gap where the eyes should be. 

And now, as the shadow engulfed his entire presence, he suddenly grew bigger and taller. Underneath his torn human clothing, emerged a dark-blue exterior protected by tightly assembled scales. His lanky limbs grew additional tentacles and spikes. and as the spike grew longer from his shoulder, it formed into a lance as tall as himself, made of what seemed to be a somber coral with a bluish end. 

Menacingly, he drew his lance and stood there, waiting for Erwin to prepare his human toys.