In a vast outdoor training ground, red banners hung from the stone walls. Each bore the emblem of a roaring tiger—the proud symbol of Guild Ravagar.
At the center of the arena, a man knelt. Miles—glasses cracked, black hair parted down the middle, face smeared with blood—was bound tightly by a transparent cloth etched with watery sigils that restrained every muscle of his body. He trembled, eyes brimming with fear.
Three Ravagar members circled him.
One of them, Brute, stood out—a tall, wiry man with dark skin and neatly curled hair. He wore a black shirt under a long cloak, the roaring tiger emblem emblazoned across his back. His expression was stern, his gaze cold. Brute was among the strongest Beast Slayers in the nation.
Brute crossed his arms at his waist, his tone dripping with mockery.
"You're impressive… hiding from me for days. Tell me, what was your name again? I forgot. And explain this—why did the pocket screen fail? Were you trying to trick me?"
Miles whimpered, head bowed.
"M-my name is Miles… I'd never dare trick you, Lord Brute! Everyone knows you're one of the strongest Slayers in this country! I… I was deceived as well! Please, spare me! I'll return the money you paid!"
Brute scoffed, grabbing Miles's head harshly, his jaw tightening.
"Money? I don't care about that worthless money. I only want the Beast! Who sold you this pocket screen?!"
Miles's voice shook with terror.
"I-I don't know his name! But… he wore ragged armor, like he wasn't registered with the Association. There was a white scar across his face. He sold it to me for a high price, said it was a tracker for the Grimthorn Stag!"
"ARRGGHH!" Brute roared, fury erupting. His right arm glowed a dark crimson, aura bursting from beneath his shirt—
BOOOM!
Behind him, the ground quaked as a colossal figure materialized. A Crimson Fang Lion—a King-ranked Beast—emerged. Its towering body loomed like a fortress, mane blazing red and violet like fire, obsidian fur shimmering under the light. Its eyes glowed like molten coals, claws crackling with crimson lightning.
The King Beast's presence crushed the air, suffocating. Miles collapsed, trembling violently, his face drained of blood.
Brute raised his hand, ready to unleash the lion's wrath.
"You bastard, I'll—"
"Enough, Brute."
The cold voice cut through, echoing across the arena. Craigg, yellow-tinted glasses glinting in the sunlight, stood calm at the edge. He didn't move, only inhaled from his cigarette, gaze sharp and unyielding.
"Don't cause trouble. You want to kill a civilian inside our own base?"
Before Brute could reply, a shadow flashed across the ground. Aika appeared—a woman with sharp eyes and a black ponytail, moving with serpentine grace. White-blue scale-like armor hugged her frame, the Ravagar emblem gleaming on her chest.
With one swift pull, she dragged Miles out of the lion's reach.
"Don't be stupid, Brute. I won't clean up your mess. We already know the culprit—this is clearly the work of Rogue Slayers. That Beast is already in their hands."
Brute growled, chest heaving. Slowly, he tapped his chest, recalling the Crimson Fang Lion. Its aura dissolved into nothing.
"Hhhh… forgive me, Aika. I almost lost control. But damn it… first, Tigrix Rex was tamed by someone else—registered, no less! Now the Grimthorn Stag is gone too!"
Craigg flicked ash to the floor, clicking his tongue.
"Aika, release him. Let him go."
The watery bindings unraveled into mist. Aika gestured for Miles to leave. He bolted in panic, stumbling as he fled without looking back.
Once silence returned to the arena, Aika turned to Brute, her tone icy.
"So, what's your plan, 'Leader'? Do you want Ravagar to wage war with Rogue Slayers over a lost Beast? If that happens, the Beast Slayer Association will be the only ones who benefit. They'll sit back and watch us tear each other apart."
Brute froze, teeth grinding in rage, before letting out a harsh growl.
"Tch… fine. For now, we stay still. Not because we fear the Rogue Slayers. I just won't let Ravagar be used as the Association's pawn."
Aika gave a curt nod and walked away. Craigg followed without a word, leaving Brute alone.
"HEY! Bastards! At least answer me!" Brute shouted, his face red with frustration. "I'm your leader! Don't just walk away!"
But only his furious roars echoed across the training ground.
Time passed. The sun sank, the sky burning orange before fading to black.
That night, sulfurous fog blanketed the slopes of Mount Slug, the air hot and reeking of metal.
Atop a ridge, Luxe sat on a mound of fallen Savage Beasts, his scythe buried in the skull of one.
Across his chest, his ash-black armor pulsed faintly with streaks of violet-blue light… then cracked with radiant veins. The Living Equipment began to evolve—lines of energy knitting tighter, sharper, more seamless, as if the armor itself was breathing with him.
From afar, faint Beastly roars echoed. BOOOM!—a clash resounded, followed by blinding flashes. Luxe remained still, his eyes fixed on the dark mountain, as if trusting unseen guardians nearby.
His phone buzzed. Luxe answered while pulling his scythe free.
"All right. I understand. I'll be there tomorrow at noon."
Steve's voice blasted through the speaker, music faint in the background.
"Luxe?! You're still hunting? It sounds like a damn battlefield!"
Luxe hurled his scythe forward. WHUUM!—the weapon spun, releasing a cloud of black-green poison, felling the remaining Savage Beasts. "Yeah. Been hunting for days. You said we need strength for the upcoming tournament. Isn't our guild almost official?"
Steve chuckled lightly.
"That's right! Once we get approved, we can immediately register for the Guild Tournament! We don't even have to win—just reaching the quarterfinals will be enough to make Veyrath's name skyrocket! Oh, and the emblem I sent you—do you agree with it?"
The scythe snapped back into Luxe's hand. He smirked faintly.
" Looks great. I approve. But… where are you? I hear music."
"Hahaha! At our guildhall! It's still under renovation, but safe enough. Blackout curtains, walls of Beast bone, essence cores to cloak us from even Elite-class Beasts. You'll see tomorrow!"
Luxe exhaled, gazing at the night sky above the sulfur mist.
"Good. That's what I wanted to hear."
Steve's tone grew more excited.
"And tomorrow, we'll mark your Beasts and Equipment with the guild emblem. Once that's done, no one can touch you."
A smile curved Luxe's lips.
"Fine. Tomorrow, I'll come to Veyrath. You too, Steve—get some rest. You've been working for days."
"Hahaha, I've been hunting too, you know! But tomorrow—I've got a surprise. You'll be shocked."
Luxe narrowed his eyes. "A surprise?"
"Hahaha, secret! See you tomorrow!" The line cut.
Luxe lowered his phone, murmuring, "A surprise, huh…"
SWOOSH!
From the sulfur fog, a Black Fusar lunged—an Elite Beast, sleek and pitch-black, its harpoon glowing with shadowed light. The weapon pierced through—
—but struck only ash. Luxe reformed atop a jagged rock, scythe in hand, voice cold.
"Hmph. Not bad. You're quick."
The Black Fusar roared and leapt again, harpoon tearing the air. Luxe braced his weapon—
—but shadows erupted around him.
CLANG! Prism Ward burst forth, his twin prism blades larger, sharper, dark light rippling along their edges. His armor had grown more intricate, white-black lines throbbing with energy.
On the other side, a low growl thundered. Miravore emerged—a draconic knight clad in violet-black scales, his aura shimmering with chaotic colors laced in darkness.
They struck as one. Prism Ward slashed across the harpoon's path while Miravore's clawed strike crushed forward, aura detonating.
BOOOM! The earth split, rocks scattering like shrapnel.
Essence from the fallen Beasts burst into light, streaming into Luxe's body. His armor pulsed brighter, the violet-blue veins beating like a second heart.
Luxe watched the fierce battle, lips curling into a quiet smile.
"All right, Steve… if you have a surprise tomorrow, I'll make sure mine is even greater."