Luxe walked lightly toward the Beast Material & Equipment Shop he had visited the day before. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.
"Good morning, ah...You again!" greeted the shopkeeper.
Luxe placed a cloth pouch on the counter. Inside were a Spike Hog hide with broken quills and a claw fragment from an Ironclaw Boar. "Can these be made into equipment, sir?"
The man opened the pouch, examined it briefly, then nodded. "Yes. Good materials for boots. Properly forged, they'll become Swift Boots. They'll lighten your steps—perfect for a beginner like you."
Luxe's eyes lit up. "Awesome! How long will it take?"
The man leaned back in his chair, his tone flat. "Four days."
"Four days?" Luxe almost choked. "That long? Is it because the blacksmith's overloaded with orders?"
The shopkeeper chuckled. "Not exactly. Our smith is busy, but that's not the reason. Every piece of equipment must first be registered with the Association. Verification, legal mark, owner identity. That's what takes time."
Luxe frowned. "So… every piece of gear has to be recorded by the Association?"
"Exactly." The man pointed at a glass display case filled with faintly glowing weapons. "Without a mark, your equipment is illegal. If you're caught using it outside, it'll be treated as rogue property. And trust me, that's not a charge you want hanging over you."
Luxe swallowed hard. Then cautiously, he asked, "What if… I had a Core-Linked Gear? Could that be registered here too?"
The shopkeeper narrowed his eyes at him, suspicious. "Hm? A Rank F kid with a Core-Linked Gear?" He snorted. "Don't tell me you're one of those lucky bastards who just stumbled across one. Sometimes, when two powerful beasts fight to the death, their core mutates into equipment. If a Slayer happens to pass by… well, free jackpot."
Luxe only scratched his neck and gave a sheepish grin. "Let's just say I was lucky."
The man's tone grew stern. "Remember. Just like tamed beasts, all gear must be registered. If not, it's considered rogue… or worse, you'll be branded as an illegal tamer."
Luxe fell silent, leaving the shop with the Swift Boots order slip clenched in his hand. The words echoed in his head, weighing on him.
"Has to be registered with the Association…" he muttered softly.
He stopped on the sidewalk, which was slowly filling with morning commuters. His gaze drifted, thoughts clouded by Prism Ward.
"If I register Prism Ward… won't they suspect something? I'm just Rank F, yet he's clearly a Duke-tier beast. How could someone like me possibly have such a pet? And I don't even have a taming tattoo…"
"If I force myself to report it, they'll drag me into interrogation. Prism Ward might get seized. But if I don't register… I'll be branded a rogue."
He exhaled heavily, lowering his head as he walked on.
A bitter smile tugged at his lips. "I've barely become a Beast Slayer… and already I'm stuck playing cat-and-mouse with the Association."
He was about to head toward the restaurant where he worked when—
BOOM!
A thunderous explosion rocked the district. Storefront windows shattered, shards raining onto the streets. Luxe ducked instinctively, nearly dropping his order slip.
Screams filled the air. People ran in panic, colliding, some tripping and falling. Black smoke billowed from the far end of the street, blotting out the blue morning sky. The metallic tang of blood and dust hung heavy.
"Run! Run!"
"What's happening?! An attack?!"
"I-It's the Rogue Slayers!"
From within the smoke, figures in ragged cloaks and masks emerged—Rogue Slayers.
"People! The Association isn't your protector—they're your oppressors! You've been lied to all this time!" one of them shouted, raising a blade.
Heavy footsteps echoed. From the opposite side, official Beast Slayers appeared, their light armor gleaming with the engraved mark of the Association. Each summoned one or two beasts: a silver-furred Wolf Fang howled on the street, while a blazing Fire Hawk spread its fiery wings in the sky.
The Rogues answered in kind. They unleashed beasts of their own—an Ironback Ape and a Razor Hound—Savage-tier monsters, vicious and battle-trained.
Unlike the Association's polished, marked equipment, the Rogues' gear looked crude, unmarked… yet its power was wild and unrestrained.
The clash erupted. Steel met steel, claws ripped through stone, and beastly roars shook the air. Fire, dust, and shadows swallowed the street.
From behind rubble, Luxe peeked with wide eyes, heart hammering. He had never seen a true battle between Slayers break out in broad daylight.
"What's going on? Why would Rogue Slayers attack the city?" he whispered.
The smoke thickened. Civilian screams, beast roars, and Rogue shouts of propaganda melded into chaos. The city itself became a war zone.
Then—a chilling wave washed over everything, silencing the noise. The temperature plummeted, breath misted in the air, asphalt cracked under a thin glaze of frost.
Through the smoke, a silver-haired woman emerged with measured steps. Her armor gleamed with a pale-blue radiance, frost swirling around her like a storm given form.
"IVY! It's Ivy!" a citizen shrieked, half-hysterical yet relieved.
"Rank S! One of the top Beast Slayers!"
Everyone knew her name. Ivy—the silver-haired beauty, a Rank S Beast Slayer, and master of a King-tier resonance beast: the Frost Queen.
At her side loomed a crimson Blood Wyvern, its wings beating hard enough to scatter debris. The Lord-tier beast snarled, crimson scales glowing under its aura.
The Rogue Slayers faltered instantly. Ice spread across the ground, freezing their beasts mid-motion. Ivy leapt lightly onto the wyvern's back as it soared upward, her presence towering above.
But then—the air boiled with searing heat. The smoke glowed blood-red.
A man stepped forward from the Rogue ranks, his face twisted, eyes burning with bloodlust. His armor was jagged scraps of metal forged into a savage silhouette. He grinned wide, radiating menace.
"R-rodge… one of the Rogue Slayer captains…" someone whispered, trembling.
Rodge—a leader among the Rogues, wielder of the King-tier resonance beast Fire Abyss. His aura blazed red-hot, scorching the air itself.
Behind him rose Haze Draco, a massive Lord-tier dragon-like beast shrouded in burning brown mist. Rodge sat on its shoulder like a barbaric warlord, exuding defiance.
"Ivy…" his voice rasped, thick with mockery. "Here to cover up your Association's rot from the people?"
Ivy's cold gaze met his from atop the wyvern. "You're a coward, Rodge. Your terror only brings death. That's not liberation."
Rodge laughed, a booming, manic sound. The mist around him flared red, the air hissing with heat.
"Then answer this, Ivy—why does your Association steal beasts from their rightful tamers? Corruption! Kidnapping! Manipulation—even murder!"
The two King-tier auras clashed, freezing and burning the street in the same breath.
Without warning, battle exploded.
The Blood Wyvern dove, claws clashing with Haze Draco's steaming jaws. Ivy conjured a spear of ice, hurling shards in a storm, while Rodge hurled crimson fire blasts with his bare hands.
Buildings split, the ground tore open. Lower-ranked Slayers scattered, thrown aside by the shockwaves. Civilians fled in terror, their cries drowned by the chaos.
After a brutal exchange, a massive explosion split them apart. Dust consumed the battlefield.
Rodge stood proudly on Haze Draco's shoulder, smoke rising off his bloodied frame. He laughed, eyes wild.
"Enough. My message is delivered. The people have seen the truth—the Association is no better than us. So… I'll be taking my leave, Ivy. Until next time."
With that, Haze Draco bounded onto the rooftops and vanished into the burning haze.
Ivy clenched her fists, eyes blazing, but she didn't give chase. The Blood Wyvern roared, beating its wings once, scattering the dust, before she turned to aid the civilians.
From the shadows of shattered stone, Luxe crouched, trembling. His heart thundered in his chest. He had just witnessed power beyond reason.
But one phrase wouldn't leave his mind—Rodge's accusation, echoing over and over.
"The Association… stealing beasts from others…"
Dust hadn't even settled when a scream split the air.
"ARGHH! HELP!"