Chương 296: Beasts and Predators

My approach to the fortified Othian slave camp wasn't subtle. It didn't need to be. I stepped out of the shadows on the ridge, releasing my grip on the [Nullifying Veil]. The oppressive, heavy weight of the [Domain of the Ashen Phoenix] bled into the clearing. I didn't project fire; I projected inevitable consequence. The rain falling over the muddy courtyard evaporated into hissing steam ten feet above my head, refusing to touch my [Abyssal Sovereign's Carapace].

Below me, the laughter of the mercenaries died instantly. The sharp crackle of their stun-prods faded as they instinctively turned toward the source of the pressure that was suddenly trying to flatten their souls.

"What in the blazes is that?" a burly human in polished steel armor barked, dropping the chain attached to a huddled group of terrified Lupine children. I didn't [Void Walk] down. I simply let gravity pull me, manipulating my own density to hit the mud of the courtyard like a meteor. The impact cratered the ground, sending a shockwave that threw the nearest guards off their feet and rattled the heavy iron bars of the transport cages.

I stood up slowly, the Void bleeding from my eyes in wispy trails of white-gold and absolute black.

"I am offering you exactly one chance to evaluate your life choices," I stated, my voice echoing unnaturally in the confined space of the fort.

"Unlock the collars. Drop your weapons. And leave this place, now. Or burn." Silence held for a fraction of a second. Then, arrogance took the wheel.

"Are you out of your mind, do you know who we work for?" the burly guard commander sneered, drawing a heavy broadsword that glowed with a sickening red enchantment. He checked his wrist-scanner.

"You're just one man! You think a fancy aura trick makes you immune to a fifty-man garrison? Kill him! For the True Empire!" A dozen or so heavily armored guards charged me, raising swords, spears, halberds and staves. They didn't make it halfway across the courtyard.

"You chose poorly." I simply raised a hand, using [Apex Mana Authority] to forcefully compress the ones who chose to attack. The space around the charging guards collapsed inward. It wasn't a gravitation push designed to crush them into the ground; it was a targeted implosion. Their reinforced armor crumpled like tin foil under the sheer, localized gravitational weight.

The sound of their screams was cut short instantly as they were pulverized into the mud, leaving nothing but six compacted spheres of metal and flesh. The remaining mercenaries froze in sheer, unadulterated terror.

"Anyone else feeling aggressively loyal?" I asked quietly, letting a flicker ignite across my gauntlet, flowing through my armored hands like rivers of fire. Weapons clattered to the mud immediately. Men and women dropped to their knees, their previous egotistical defiance replaced by trembling submission. I turned my attention to the cages. The Beast-Folk — mothers, elders, traumatized cubs — stared at me with wide, disbelieving eyes.

They didn't know whether to cheer or cower from the monster that just erased their captors. I flicked a finger. [Apex Mana Authority] snapped the locks on the heavy mana-reinforced iron doors and cleanly sheared the suppression collars from their necks without scorching a single hair.

"Run," I told them, keeping my voice gentle.

"Go deep into the jungle. Get back to your people."

"Here, take this, this should be enough to get you to where you need to go," I said as I handed them a bag I withdrew from my Storage, filled with food, water, potions, herbs and essentials for survival. They didn't need to be told twice. The Lupine and Bovine variants scrambled out of the cages, scattering into the thick foliage surrounding the fort. Once they were gone, I turned my focus back to the shivering remnants of the garrison.

"Alright," I sighed, my anger hardening into cold curiosity.

"Someone wants to explain why the Kingdom of Othia decided to turn a localized resource dispute into a full out invasion with an industrialized slavery ring?" The commander, who had survived by staying in the back, glared up at me, defiance warring with fear.

"They're just animals," he spat, rubbing his arm.

"Less than a century ago, before the Confluence forced them into sapience, we hunted them for sport in our realms. We wear clothes; they shed. Why do you care, human? You are like us! We are civilized! They occupy territory that belongs to the strong."

"You think walking upright and forging swords makes you better?" I scoffed, kneeling down so I was eye-level with him.

"Ever since I started exploring the Greater Universe, I've learned something very quickly. Essence doesn't care if you have fur or scales. The universe is full of things that look like animals but have hearts and souls denser than mountains. The world itself has a consciousness, and if you think simply existing as a human makes you superior… you haven't traveled enough." If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

I grabbed the commander by his chest plate and hauled him to his feet.

"You're coming with me. All of you. You are going to tell me everything you planned on doing here, and then, you are going to tell the Pridelords exactly what you told me." I didn't tie them up. I simply extended the crushing weight of my [Domain] into a localized net, forcing the remaining two dozen mercenaries into a tight, miserable cluster. I gathered ambient wind mana beneath them.

"Up." I levitated the entire group, treating them like a grim cluster of balloons, and took off. The flight back toward the capital of Wahash was sobering. The pristine, aggressively vibrant landscape I had seen weeks ago was bleeding. From my high vantage point, I saw the true extent of the Othian offensive. It wasn't a border skirmish at all anymore. Massive swaths of the dense jungle were blackened and burning.

Heavy, industrialized camps resembling the one I had just dismantled dotted the landscape like parasites. The humans were using rapid-deployment System-turrets and deforesting vast areas to build supply roads, pushing incredibly deep into Beast-Folk territory. They had easily swallowed twenty-five percent of the continent in less than three months. The closer I got to the capital, the more apparent the mobilization of Wahash became.

The previously scattered tribal patrols were now entrenched, massive armies of armored Ursine and Felid warriors marching toward the front lines. War drums echoed constantly through the valleys. The atmosphere was incredibly tense; every shadow seemed to hold an ambush, every pass fortified with brutalist barricades. When I descended toward the Ember-Root Basin, the anti-air ballistas swiveled to track me instantly.

I dropped the swearing, terrified cluster of human mercenaries right into the center of the outer courtyard before casually floating down behind them. The Pridelords didn't make me wait two days this time. The response was immediate, aggressive, and hostile. I was ushered back into the obsidian amphitheater. The atmosphere was drastically different. The Lords were armored now. Gaeros, the alligator Lord, looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. The Eagle Matriarch's feathers were ruffled with nervous energy.

And Dharok, the Lion Lord, sat perfectly still at the head of the table, though his aura was simmering with a barely contained fury that felt close to breaking.

"You return, Human," Gaeros hissed instantly, standing up and slamming his tail against the floor.

"And the timing is suspect. Your kind pushes further into our ancestral lands every day, slaughtering our cubs and breaking our lines! And suddenly, you appear with a handful of captives? Are you their vanguard? A spy pretending to be a savior?" I crossed my arms, refusing to be baited, though the hostility grated on my already frayed patience.

"If I wanted to conquer you, Gaeros," I said flatly, "I wouldn't have brought gifts." I nudged the tied-up Othian commander forward with my boot.

"I brought you a source of information. I stopped a slavery operation miles within your borders because butchery simply pisses me off. I suggest you listen to what he has to say before you throw accusations." Dharok finally spoke, silencing the grumbling lords with a heavy stare.

"Speak, prisoner." The Othian commander, surrounded by furious apex predators, broke quickly. He detailed the scope of the invasion. The humans hadn't just found a Spawning-Vast; their king, a man named Roadin, had used the concentrated essence to force an evolutionary breakthrough.

"The King," the commander stammered, sweat pouring down his face.

"He claimed the title of Emperor. He… he has finally broken through into Tier 7." The room went dead silent. Tier 7. On Ferra, our team of Sovereigns and my own Tier 7 status maintained global stability. On a continent like this, which had naturally stalled at the peak of Tier 6, a true Tier 7 entity was a living tactical nuke in a world of grenades. It upset the entire balance of power. It explained how the humans had crushed the Beast-Folk lines so rapidly. Gaeros cursed violently, slumping back into his chair.

The Eagle Matriarch looked stricken. Dharok's face didn't change, but through my [Void Perception], I saw the golden, dominating aura around him shudder. It was the subtlest flicker of despair. He was Peak Tier 6. A beast without equal on his continent. But he knew, with brutal, instinctual certainty, that he could not bridge the gap to Tier 7 in time to save his people. I watched him carefully. He was a proud king watching the avalanche approach.

"Take the prisoner away. Prepare the armies for a defensive line at the Ashen-Ridge," Dharok ordered quietly, his voice tight. When the room cleared again, leaving just the two of us, I leaned against the obsidian table.

"You're planning to hold a line you know you can't," I observed. Dharok looked at me, the golden fire in his eyes dimmed.

"We are Beast-Folk. We do not flee our dens because the winter is harsh. We fight. And if we die, we ensure the cost of taking our lands is paid in lakes of human blood." He gripped the arms of his chair.

"A Tier 7… I suspected it, but the confirmation is… heavy. His Authority will break our formations before our warriors can even swing an axe."

"It doesn't have to go that way," I said quietly. Dharok snorted bitterly.

"What is your stake in this, foreigner? Will the aloof wanderer descend from his mountain to swat our enemies for us? To act as our savior, only to demand we kneel to a different master later? Wahash bows to no one. We'd rather burn."

"I'm not looking for vassals," I replied, keeping my voice utterly serious.

"But I told you, I hate butchery. And honestly, watching a pompous new 'Emperor' play god with slavery rubs me the wrong way. More importantly, I come from another world, one called Ferra that is openly accessible through the Elven continent, and we'd be more than happy to help those who are friendly. We are actually recruiting!" Dharok raised an eyebrow.

"Recruiting?"

"I don't do all the fighting myself anymore, I can't be everywhere at once," I smiled, reaching into my comms tether, connecting to the Spirit Space of my Sanctum trillions of miles away.

"If an Emperor wants to break your lines with raw, brutal power… I figure the best response is to introduce him to a bigger, louder lion, showing the beast-folk are not to be trifled with." I established the connection.

"Jeeves. Open a Spire tether directly to my location, I will let you know when I finish setting up the sigil. I am going to need you to send someone soon."

"Understood, Master," the smooth voice replied.

"Whom shall I send?"

"Send the vanguard." I looked at the stunned Pridelord.

"Rexxar's been complaining about not having enough strong opponents to test his might on."