Starting Out As The God of Beasts

The twin moons of Arkan Unlimited were swallowed by heavy, low-hanging smog, plunging the lower rings of Tempest City into a pitch-black, suffocating gloom.

Alisa stood at the mouth of a damp, stone-carved ventilation shaft overlooking the deepest trenches of the slave district.

Her long rabbit ears twitched, filtering out the distant sound of drunken brawls from the upper terraces to focus on the heavy, rhythmic footsteps of the Orc patrols below.

Tonight was her test.

Beneath her tattered canvas traveling cloak, Alisa’s skin tingled with a cold, supernatural energy.

Her fractured, silver-ringed irises glowed faintly in the dark as she looked down at the massive, iron-reinforced grate blocking the primary slave pen.

Inside, huddled in stagnant water and shivering from cold and starvation, were the Frog-kin beastmen.

’For Lord Varanus,’ she whispered to herself, her heart beating with an intense, fanatical devotion. ’I will not fail Mr. Jarden.’

Closing her eyes, Alisa activated her first bloodline blessing.

She instinctively knew what to do thanks to the Divine Authority: Mindcraft imprinting knowledge into her brain.

[Absolute Sensory Concealment: Activated]

Instantly, her presence vanished from the physical world.

The subtle scent of her fur, the sound of her breathing, and even the natural heat radiating from her body were completely erased. To the world around her, she became nothing more than an empty pocket of space.

The true essence of a Void-Stalking beast woman.

The first of her kind.

In this game known as ’Arkan Unlimited’, all living beings who have awakened their mana cores are known as Cultivators.

Since all living creatures are born with dormant mana cores, it was very rare for one to awaken their mana cores.

Only through a stage known as the Enlightenment would a creature awaken their mana core.

If they wanted the easier route, they only need the divine intervention of the True God they serve.

Cultivators exist as lifeforms with a vast quantity of mana, controlling latent skills and battle techniques in their possession.

Their battle strength increased by a hundred folds. But even Cultivators are bound by rankings.

Alisa is currently at the lowest rank a Cultivator could be.

A Martial Warrior!

With a silent step, she dropped from the ventilation ledge. She didn’t land with a thud; instead, she willed her body to interface with the fabric of reality itself, calling upon her second divine skill.

[Spatial Slip: Activated]

As her feet touched the solid iron grate of the prison roof, her physical form rippled like water.

Rather than crashing against the metal bars, Alisa effortlessly slipped through the solid iron, her body momentarily turning into a translucent, dark silhouette before solidifying perfectly on the damp stone floor inside the cage.

The transition was so flawless that not a single speck of dust was disturbed.

She saw them, the C-class black spotted Frogmen locked in cages.

The captive Frog-kin beastmen, huddled together in the damp dark, didn’t even notice her arrival at first.

Their large, glassy eyes were dull, completely stripped of hope after weeks of torment by the Troll syndicates.

Alisa glided through the shadows like a phantom, approaching the oldest black spotted Frog-kin who sat bound by heavy, mana-suppressing chains against the back wall.

He’s the only Cultivator amongst the slaves.

When she dropped her sensory concealment just enough to let her voice slip through, the old beastman jumped, his webbed hands trembling.

”Shh,” Alisa breathed, placing a gentle, reassuring hand over his cold, slimy shoulder. Her silver eyes locked onto his. ”Do not make a sound. I am an envoy of the true God, Lord Varanus. He has seen your suffering, and I have come to set your people free.”

The old Frog-kin’s eyes widened to the size of saucers.

He looked at her midnight-tipped ears and the undeniable aura of a high-tier predator radiating from her newly mutated frame.

He uttered not a single word. A gentle smile written on his lips, as Alisa reached for his heavy iron shackles.

Instead of searching for a key, Alisa focused her internal mana, letting the spatial energy coat her fingers.

With a sharp, localized distortion of space, she bypassed the lock entirely—the solid iron rings simply unlinked, sliding through one another as if they were made of mist.

Clink.

The chains fell away silently into the mud.

”Gather the others,” Alisa commanded in a fierce, low whisper, her ears standing tall as she monitored the outside corridor. ”When the doors open, run for the lower eastern exit. Do not look back. Chaos is coming to this city, and it is your time to escape.”

As the stunned black spotted Frog-kin began whispering frantically among themselves, unlocking one another’s minor bindings, Alisa slipped back into the deepest shadows near the cage door.

She looked out through the iron bars at the unsuspecting Orc guards standing watch at the end of the tunnel.

One by one, the released Frogmen exited the cage, their eyes mixed with both confoundment and excitement.

”W-We’re free!!” a Frogman screamed. Another grabbed him, covering his mouth, but it was too late.

The Orc sentries have begun to make their moves. Alisa’s brows furrowed, ”Orcs are coming,” she spoke.

”I know,” the voice of the old Frogman boomed. He had broken free of the mana-suppressing chains that restricted him.

He was the last to leave the cage, turning his gaze towards Alisa. ”What’s your name, Lad?” the old Frogman asked.

”Alisa,” she answered. ”Thank you for setting us free.” The old man bowed, his eyes flickered, ”And leave those sentries to me.”

He clenched his fist. Alisa nodded, ”Do not forget the kindness that Lord Varanus has shown you.”

”In a few days, Tempest City will be no more.” With that, Alisa was gone, activating her skill once again.

She watched from the sideline, but none was able to detect her presence.

”Hey!” an Orc sentry roared, ”Who let these damned frogs out of those cages?” The Orc growled.

These Orcs are D-class red-patterned Orcs, only known for their intense durability, but the Frog-kin didn’t fret.

For they have a Cultivator on their side.

The old Frogman glared at the approaching Orc sentries. His fist clenched as he watched the armed sentries near his people.

”Hey, Oldey,” an Orc sentry chuckled, ”If you give me your head, I might just let your people live.”

”But they’ll be punished for daring to escape from us!” the Orc sentry declared. This time, he was a few meters away from the old Frogman.

”Is that so?” the old man sighed, his lips curled faintly, ”Sorry... I won’t be dying today.” The old man’s eyes glowed.

”What the hell is this bastard say...” Before the Orc sentry could complete his sentence, his entirety was blown into pieces.

This was only because the old man threw a single punch. The sentries staggered back in shock.

”T-This... this old man is a Cultivator!!” a sentry screamed. Just knowing that their opponent is a cultivator caused them to flee.

But it was too late!

The old Frogman had already enclosed every exit point with his water-etched mana. ”Kill them all,” he signaled his Frog-kin.

What occurred next was a bloodbath.

All the red-patterned Orcs serving as sentries for this slave pen were all butchered into pieces by the enraged Frogmen.

’This old man is strong,’ Alisa’s eyes narrowed, ’But if he serves Lord Varanus, he should be useful to Master Jarden.’ She smiled.

”But what exactly is his rank as a Cultivator? I can tell.....”

”This old man is on a level beyond me”