Chương 285: The Toll of the Pridelands

Wahash did not smell like a continent at peace with itself. Oakhaven had tasted of deep pine and harmonious mana circulation. Ferra smelled of ozone, rapid industrial expansion, and the collective sweat of a billion people building a civilization. Wahash, the great Beast-Folk landmass, smelled like raw iron, sea salt, and territorial aggression. The port of Gruumsh wasn't a city in the traditional sense. It looked like a forest and a mountain had engaged in a violent, structural wrestling match.

The buildings were brutalist — massive slabs of dark stone and hardened ironwood lashed together with chains thick enough to anchor dreadnoughts. Instead of graceful Elven spires, the skyline was dominated by sheer, vertical cliffs hollowed out into massive tribal dens. Roaring fires illuminated the caverns, casting long, dancing shadows of towering, anthropomorphic beasts against the stone. It was beautiful in a savage, unforgiving way. A place built by hands that were also weapons.

And right now, those weapons were pointed at me.

"Leave, now," Captain Thorek, the Boar-man official, snarled. His thick, scarred finger was practically vibrating a few inches from my chest. His breath smelled of old meat, brine, and fury.

"Turn around, soft-skin, and get back on the boat. Wahash is closed to your kind." I stopped, placing a calming hand on Kaelen's head. The massive Glimmerfox had immediately stopped acting like an oversized puppy. His posture stiffened, his ears flattened, and a low, resonant rumble — a sound that literally vibrated the space between us — started building in his chest. On his back, Bennu ruffled his fiery feathers, the ambient temperature around us spiking a few degrees.

Captain Termak stepped between us, holding up his hands.

"Captain Thorek, be reasonable! This man is—""I don't care who he is," Thorek barked, his tusks glinting in the dim light. He rested a heavy hand on a brutal-looking cleaver strapped to his hip. Around us, the docks went quiet. The bustle of unloading cargo slowed. Ursine-folk dropped crates to stare. Felid scouts perched on the riggings of nearby ships watched with sharp, glowing eyes. I didn't reach for a weapon. I didn't flare my aura.

I kept my [Nullifying Veil] tightly wrapped around me, presenting myself as nothing more than a moderately skilled mage with a peak Tier 4 presence.

"I understand," I said, keeping my voice level, pitching it to carry just far enough so the surrounding dockworkers could hear my lack of aggression.

"I don't want to cause trouble for you, Captain Thorek, or for Captain Termak's crew. However, my business here is too important for me to leave." I gestured down to Kaelen, who was glaring at the Boar-man with pure, starry-eyed disdain.

"I'm on an investigative mission. My companion here," I indicated the fox, "lost his family some time ago. We believe the trail leads through Wahash. A faction of assassins wielding space-magic with masks bearing a sigil resembling this," I gestured to an S I drew on the ground, "have you heard of anything?" Thorek scoffed, waving a hand dismissively.

"I don't care if you're looking for a lost pet or a mountain of gold. Human matters are human problems. Keep them off—" He stopped. His eyes, small and usually aggressive, darted back to Kaelen. He seemed to truly register the Glimmerfox for the first time. The sheer size of him, the density of his aura, the starlight caught in his midnight fur. Then, his gaze flicked up to the bright orange, parrot-sized phoenix perched on Kaelen's saddle, radiating a suppressed, sun-like heat. Thorek blinked.

He did a comical double-take, looking from me, to the beasts, and back to me. The primal recognition of Ancient power registered in his stance. His hand subtly moved away from his cleaver.

"That is… a significant familiar," Thorek grunted, his tone dropping an octave, replacing sheer hostility with wary caution. Beast-Folk I learned, like most, only respected power.

"And the bird… it feels like a newborn sun."

"They are good boys," I smiled mildly.

"But my request stands. I need to speak with those in charge. Your leaders. The Pridelords, I believe? If I can get an explanation or permission from them, great. If they still refuse me entry, then I shall leave, peacefully." Thorek chewed his lower lip, a nervous habit that clashed with his terrifying tusks. He looked around the docks.

The watching crowd hadn't dispersed, but the tension had shifted from an angry mob ready to lynch a human to a crowd deeply curious about the man traveling with mythic-tier monsters.

"The Portmaster won't see you," Thorek finally said, gruff but less combative.

"The High Prides have centralized authority. But if you only want a waiver to the decree, you need to speak to the local Arbiter of the Claws. But they are deep in the hinterlands dealing with a territory dispute. They won't rotate back to the port for at least two days."

"Two days," I mused. It was an annoying delay. I could just use a Glimpse, [Void Walk] into their capital, read all their records and extract any information, then be out before they finished their dinner. But I wasn't an invader. And honestly, acting with flagrant hostility in a foreign land when I came here just to find some clues wasn't productive. Besides, the system notification of the Great Crucible was fresh in my mind. Picking fights with entire continents of potential allies was a bad strategy.

"Fine," I nodded amicably.

"I can wait. Is there an isolated section of the dock where we can stay? We won't venture past the harbor perimeter. Captain Termak can verify my peaceful conduct during the voyage." Termak nodded enthusiastically, clearly desperate to avoid his ship becoming the epicenter of an international incident.

"Aye, he kept to himself. Meditated the whole trip. Very quiet. His… companions saved my ship from a mutated Deep-Dweller." That caught the attention of the surrounding Beast-Folk. A murmur of respect rippled through the dockworkers. Mutated Deep-Dwellers were becoming infamous ship-breakers. Thorek snorted.

"There is an old drydock at the far end of Pier Seven. It's dilapidated and mostly used for storing salted fish. You stay there. You step past the barricades into the town proper, the guards have orders to kill on sight."

"Pier Seven it is," I agreed easily. The next forty-eight hours were a masterclass in aggressive boredom. Pier Seven smelled exactly as advertised — overwhelmingly of salted fish and rotting kelp. But it was isolated. We set up a small camp using the basic survival gear from my Storage. I spent the time meditating, running minor, low-cost mana simulations in my head regarding the fusion of my Mythic skills, trying to visualize how the [Domain] and the [Vault] could overlap conceptually without exploding.

It was difficult work, made harder by the sheer novelty of simply sitting still. For over two years, I had been in perpetual motion — reacting, fighting, planning, managing. Now, sitting on a wooden dock with nothing to do but watch birds that reminded me of seagulls trying to steal my food, the silence was deafening. Kaelen handled the delay by aggressively patrolling the hundred-square-foot perimeter we were allotted, treating every passing critter or oversized seagull as an existential threat to my safety.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Bennu was far less cooperative with the quarantine.

"Can I go look? Please?" the tiny phoenix whined on the morning of the second day, hovering just outside my tent. He zipped around my head like a caffeinated firefly.

"Just over the big rocks! I want to see if the bear-people are made of actual bears! Please Enki!

"You can fly up," I told him, tossing a piece of dried fruit in the air. Bennu caught it, incinerating it instantly with joy before swallowing it.

"Straight up. Vertical only. Do not cross the harbor line." Bennu squawked happily and rocketed straight up into the grey sky, leaving a contrail of pleasant warmth. He spent hours circling the clouds, dive-bombing updrafts and generally just enjoying open air that didn't smell like sulfur and combat magic. It was peaceful, but it grated on my nerves. Why close the borders to humans? On our world, humanity caused its fair share of problems post-Integration, sure. Warlords like Korg, madmen like Azrael.

But the sweeping decree implied a specific, triggering event. Something systemic. Perhaps a war caused by the disappearance of the Featherleaf and the increase in mana density in some contested areas? I needed information, and sitting by a barrel of fish wasn't providing any. Finally, late in the afternoon of the second day, the thumping sound of a military procession echoed down the docks. I stepped out of my tent. Kaelen sat beside me, hackles slightly raised.

Bennu descended, perching on Kaelen's head and dropping his internal temperature to avoid starting a fire. Approaching us was a squad of heavy infantry. They were a mix of species — rhino-variants in thick iron plating, a massive, towering crocodilian holding a harpoon gun, and leading them, a Felid of undeniable power. He was a Tigertaur — a humanoid tiger with stripes the color of dried blood and orange fire. He stood easily eight feet tall.

He didn't wear heavy plate, opting instead for thick, treated leather and gauntlets studded with crude, dark mana crystals. A massive, serrated curved sword was slung over his broad back. He radiated the aura of a high Tier 5. It gave off the presence of someone with a lot of experience in conflicts. A leader or commander on battlefields. He stopped ten paces away, his golden eyes narrowing as they swept over my meager camp, my companions, and finally, me.

"I am Arbiter Kraash of the Red-Striped Mane," he rumbled. His voice was a physical pressure in the air.

"You are the human who insists on lingering like a bad smell on our shores. Captain Thorek reports you bring potent familiars and claim peaceful intent."

"I am just seeking information," I replied, stepping forward slightly, keeping my hands open and visible.

"Eren Kai. I'm looking for a specific group of assassins wielding spatial magic." I projected an image within my Domain showing the figured based on how Kaelen recalled them. Kraash bared a frightening amount of fangs. It wasn't a smile.

"Spatial lanky humanoid assassins. We have no such things on our lands. We tolerate no cowardly vermin." He took a heavy step forward, leaning down slightly.

"We also have no love for humans. Your species brings chaos. You tear apart continents. You conquer and burn and lie and backstab. Your kind has no honor."

"I assure you, I have no intention of conquering anything," I said dryly.

"I just want to track a scent and leave."

"The High Prides' law is iron," Kraash snarled.

"We are bound by it. However… Beast-Law is above all." He drew himself up to his full, towering height. He looked past me to Kaelen and Bennu. He understood power dynamics deeply. He recognized that while I looked weak through my Veil, the creatures bonded to me did not submit to weaklings.

"There is one exception in our traditions," Kraash announced, his voice carrying down the docks. A large crowd of Beast-Folk had begun to gather, drawn by the presence of the Arbiter.

"What exception?" I asked, leaning against a post.

"The Right of the Apex," Kraash said simply.

"If a traveler proves that their strength surpasses the strength of the land they wish to walk… the land cannot reject them. You ask to walk Wahash soil, human? You must prove you are heavy enough to leave a footprint." He unslung the massive, serrated sword from his back and planted it point-down in the wooden dock with a sickening crunch.

"I am the Arbiter. You will fight our chosen Champion. If you fall, you die, and your beasts belong to the Pride. If you survive... you shall be allowed entry." A grin — slow, sharp, and distinctly feral — broke across my face. Two days of staring at salted fish, over-analyzing conceptual physics, and stifling the primal urge of the Void to consume things. Two days of forced, suffocating patience. And now, they wanted to fight?

"I accept," I said instantly, stepping away from the post. My voice cracked with a joyous edge I hadn't used since Floor 90 of the Tower.

"Lead the way." The Arbiter looked slightly thrown by my enthusiasm, but he gestured toward a cleared loading zone deeper in the port — a massive stone plaza ringed by thick chains. The crowd of Beast-Folk parted, eager for blood. We reached the center of the ring. Kraash stood at the edge.

"Grukk!" the Arbiter roared. From the crowd, a monstrosity stepped forward. It was an Ursine. A polar bear variant standing ten feet tall, arms thick as ancient oak trunks, heavily scarred from a lifetime of combat. It didn't wear armor. It wore ritualistic bone-tattoos carved into its flesh. Its aura screamed Peak Tier 5. The pinnacle of brute, physical power achievable without touching the deeper conceptual foundations of Tier 6.

The bear-man let out a deafening roar, pounding its massive, clawed fists against its chest. The sound was like two boulders colliding.

"The rules are simple, human," Kraash stated coldly from the edge.

"First one unable to rise, loses. No killing blows if they yield. But we do not heal the weak."

"Begin." Grukk didn't hesitate. He charged. The stone under his heavy paws cracked. He covered the fifty feet between us in less than two seconds, closing the gap with terrifying momentum. He swung a fist that was the size of a small car, aimed directly at my unarmored, cloth-covered chest. He wasn't using fancy elemental magic; he was using raw Body enhancements, amplifying the mass and velocity of the punch to a level that would powder a tank. I didn't draw a Void Blade.

I didn't use [Nullifying Veil] to slip away. I didn't even expand my [Domain]. I simply crossed my arms and stood perfectly still. The massive, fur-covered fist collided directly with my sternum. The shockwave exploded outward, rippling the clothes of the spectators in the first few rows. The sound of the impact echoed across the docks like a cannon shot. A groan erupted from the impact site. But it didn't come from me. I didn't budge. My feet didn't shift a single millimeter.

The impact, against my Peak Tier 7 Void anchored Body, reinforced by the weight of my Inner World skeleton, density amplifying, and gravity manipulation, was mathematically irrelevant. Grukk staggered back. He looked at his hand. The bones in his thick, tree-trunk wrist were visibly shattered. The compression force had rebounded perfectly, breaking his arm under its own impossible momentum. The entire dockside went dead silent. The cheering of the Beast-Folk stopped as if someone had cut a wire.

Grukk looked at his ruined arm in bewildered shock, then looked down at me. I hadn't even blinked. I hadn't braced. I was still casually leaning forward. With a roar of pained rage, the massive bear-man grabbed me with his remaining, uninjured arm. He wrapped his giant hand around my entire torso, attempting a [Crushing Bear Hug] meant to shatter spines. He squeezed with the power of a Tier 5 juggernaut, his muscles bulging, veins popping against his skin.

He strained, a guttural snarl tearing from his throat, attempting to crush the small human in his grasp. I sighed, looking up at the sky. Bennu was doing a lazy loop-the-loop overhead.

"Are you done?" I asked quietly, my voice perfectly clear over his grunting. Grukk's eyes went wide. The absolute terror of a predator encountering something fundamentally Unbreakable washed over him. He roared again and shifted his grip, planting his massive, trunk-like legs onto the stone. If he couldn't crush me, he was going to throw me out of the ring. He channeled every ounce of his immense stamina, his aura flaring red, and he pushed. He tried to lift me. To toss me like a ragdoll.

He strained against my weight. I did not even need to use any mana. I just remained standing, allowing the weight of my incomplete Inner World to rest fully on the floor. He might as well have tried to uproot a small continent. He pushed, bellowing until blood sprayed from his mouth. His boots dug deep, shattering the heavy cobblestones underfoot, plowing two deep trenches backward into the ground as the reactive force simply slid him away from me. He collapsed.

The exertion, combined with the pain of his slowly healing shattered arm, caused his massive body to buckle. He dropped to his knees, gasping for breath, completely devoid of stamina, unable to muster another ounce of force. He looked at me, utterly broken in spirit and body, and slumped to the stone. I turned to Arbiter Kraash. The massive Tigertaur was standing frozen, his eyes wide, his hand unconsciously hovering over his greatsword, though he made no move to draw it. He was a perception focused Sovereign.

He understood what he had just seen better than anyone else here. He knew I hadn't used mana or skills. He knew I had just beaten his champion through the sheer, arrogant abundance of my physical density.

"Well," I said cheerfully, my voice carrying clearly in the profound silence of the shocked port.

"I think my footprint is sufficiently deep. Are we finally open to conversation now?"