Slicked across leaves. Soaked into roots. Pooled in hollows.
The mountain reeked—iron and rot, the copper tang of open veins.
Soon, the entire slope ran red.
It was as if the mountain itself were bleeding.
"Haa… I feel invincible," Kael murmured, flexing his fingers as the last tendrils of Arcanum Vortex fadedfrom his hands.
The crimson mask hung around his neck now, still faintly stained with beast gore.
Floating lazily above him, Yue scoffed.
"Don't get over yourself. Only Rank 2 beasts roam these parts. If you really want to prove something, go pick a fight with a Rank 3."
Kael chuckled softly, shaking his head.
"Bravery and foolishness," he said, "are the same coin—just different sides."
He turned, his boots squelching in the thick blood-soaked moss.
"Right now," Kael said, voice calm but cold, "I can grow stronger by crushing the weak. Then I'll crush the strong. And after that—the stronger."
He looked toward the horizon, the blood-stained trees whispering in the breeze.
"It's a good plan, isn't it? Simple. Efficient."
Yue hovered in silence for a long moment before replying, her tone serious now—no trace of teasing.
"This is the real world, Kael. Nothing here ever goes as planned."
Kael smirked faintly and waved a hand dismissively.
"Alright, alright. Point taken."
Yue narrowed her eyes, drifting lower. "You're shameless."
He said nothing.
Instead, he reached into his cloak and carefully brought out the black stone—no, the egg.
Even now, its surface glistened faintly, as though sweating in the cold forest air. Veins—barely visible before—seemed to pulse beneath the dark shell.
Kael knelt and set it gently in the center of the carnage, surrounded by fresh blood, bodies, and steaming entrails.
"Alright, buddy," he said softly. "Feast."
At first, the response was subtle. A slow ripple across the surface of the egg. The blood nearby began to darken, coagulate—then pull, thread by thread, toward the egg's base.
Yue crossed her arms, frowning.
The absorption began to quicken.
Then it accelerated.
The speed doubled. Then tripled. The blood of an entire slaughtered beast drained in seconds—veins in the earth pulled dry.
A grisly gurgling sound filled the forest as even the deeper pools of gore vanished, sucked into the shell's gluttonous hunger.
Kael's eyes widened. "I thought… this much would be enough…"
But it wasn't.
The egg drank everything.
Yue's hovering posture stiffened. Her voice lost its usual teasing edge.
"Kael," she said seriously. "I don't think this thing was meant to awaken. This kind of hunger—it's wrong."
He didn't respond right away.
The egg now pulsed like a heartbeat. Its surface was slick, nearly alive.
Something moved beneath—slow, serpentine, or perhaps skeletal.
Something ancient.
Kael exhaled slowly, his breath curling in the cold mountain air.
Calm. Collected.
Yue's concern wasn't misplaced. She was right—it was dangerous.
Too dangerous.
But she didn't know what he knew.
She didn't know about the Beast Taming Card. About the sigil burned into the egg's aura the moment he used it.
That card had acknowledged the creature.
Had bound it.
It was his.
But Kael… Kael felt something deeper.
A rising thrill in his chest. Not fear. Not hesitation.
Excitement.
The pulsing of the egg matched the beat of his own heart now—steady, primal, heavy with promise.
Power hummed beneath its surface like a distant storm.
Not just life, but will. Hunger. Rage. Potential.
Something terrible and glorious waited beneath that black shell.
Something born not just to serve—but to conquer.
And he couldn't stop now.
He wouldn't.
Kael rose from the ground, his boots soaked in blood. The forest was eerily quiet—too quiet. The kind of silence that followed massacre.
And then he moved.
A blur through the trees. Swift. Unrelenting.
He hunted without pause, without mercy. Each beast that crossed his path was met with the same fate: a scream, a flash of steel, a spray of red.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA"
Laughter spilled from his mouth—ragged, broken laughter. Not joy.
Not mockery.
Madness.
He laughed like something unhinged, like the violence itself was carving him open from the inside out.
Cut.
Cut.
Cut.
Slaughter.
Blood painted his mask. Soaked into his hair. Spattered his arms in dark, dripping ribbons.
Then—
He paused.
A flicker of movement at the corner of his vision.
He turned slowly.
The egg.
It was following him.
Not floating. Not rolling. It moved. A slow, crawling drag through the gore-slick earth, leaving behind a faint groove in the blood-soaked soil. As if drawn by instinct. Or hunger.
Kael stared, then blinked.
Raised one eyebrow.
And then—
He laughed.
A deep, low, guttural laugh. No longer the laughter of a man, but of something else. Something becoming.
He turned back to the woods.
And again—
Slaughter.
Slaughter.
Blood.
Blood.
More blood. The egg followed. Each kill fed it. Each scream sharpened its pulse.
And behind Kael, the black shell grew darker, thicker veins crawling along its surface. Swelling.
Beating.
.....Alive.
###
The village nestled beneath Mount Veilspire had always been quiet—small, unimportant, the kind of place the world forgot.
But today, something was wrong.
The air felt too heavy. The wind carried a strange stillness. Even the crows, ever-present on the rooftops, were gone.
Then came a scream.
Sharp, distant.
A few villagers paused, looking toward the mountain. But after a moment, they returned to their tasks. Just a hunter, perhaps.
Then came another scream.
And another.
And another.
They echoed across the valley like tolling bells, each one closer, each one more shrill.
And then the smell came.
It rolled in like a wave—thick, metallic, choking. The unmistakable stench of blood. So much of it that it made the air taste like rust.
When they looked up at Mount Veilspire, someone dropped their water pail. Another clutched their chest.
The mountain was red.
Not just splashed or stained—but covered. Blood ran in dark rivulets down its crags, soaked the trees, painted the snow. It looked like the land itself had begun to bleed.
Panic hit like wildfire.
Within the hour, the village was emptied. Tools, carts, even animals abandoned in the rush. All of them crammed inside the council hall—stone walls, heavy beams, locked doors. It felt safe. It had to be.
Inside, the air was thick with fear.
Children cried. Mothers rocked them wordlessly. Old men stared at the door, as if expecting it to burst open.
At the front stood Magister Rhun, the village head and a Rank 2 magician. Normally composed. Stern. But now his hands trembled.
He raised them in a feeble attempt at calm. "Everyone, please… remain composed," he said, voice cracking. "We've sent word to Duke Drenlor. Reinforcements are on their way."
A murmur ran through the room.
"What is it?" someone shouted. "What does that to a mountain?!"
"Is it a beast?!"
"A demon?!"
"I saw the blood move," a boy whispered. "Like it was crawling."
"It's just a high-rank beast," Rhun said too quickly. "A… a rogue predator. Mana corruption, maybe. These things… happen."
"But not like this," an elder said, her voice hollow.
Then—another scream.