Starting Out As The God of Beasts

The high-pitched, discordant wail of Norona City’s defensive alarms sliced through the night air, echoing off the stone buildings and throwing the entire settlement into absolute chaos.

Torches flickered wildly along the streets as the city’s standing army scrambled to respond to the catastrophic breach at the front gates.

Through the thick, rising smoke of the ruined gatehouse, Commander Trojan and Alpha Brenda strode side by side into the city streets.

They didn’t run.

They didn’t take cover.

They simply advanced like an inescapable natural disaster.

Hundreds of Orc sentries, heavy infantry, and agile Goblin skirmishers flooded the main avenue, weapons drawn, their green skin glistening under the moonlight as they charged the two intruders.

”Clear the rabble,” Trojan rumbled, his voice dripping with heavy martial authority.

With a terrifying grin, he unleashed Crimson Calamity.

His body erupted into a roiling, apocalyptic tempest of superheated crimson-gold mana.

Every step Trojan took melted the stone pavement beneath his boots.

When a platoon of fifty heavily armored Orcs locked their shields and thrust their spears at him, Trojan merely swept his arm in a casual, wide arc.

A chaotic, fan-shaped wave of weaponized magma and kinetic force tore through the avenue.

The Orcs’ steel shields instantly liquefied, their armor fusing into their flesh before their entire bodies vanished into drifting ash.

Goblin archers on the rooftops fired volleys of poisoned arrows, but the stray thermal waves radiating from Trojan’s skill simply vaporized the projectiles mid-air, setting the very buildings on fire.

It wasn’t a fight; it was a chaotic, industrialized butcher shop.

Beside him, Alpha Brenda was executing a completely different flavor of slaughter.

Her amber eyes glowed with a terrifying, primal light as she unleashed her newly awakened bloodline skill: Beast Dominator.

As a Martial General backed by a divine mutation, her Tyrant Wild Pressure expanded outward, washing over the entire district.

Norona City used dozens of giant Beast stage F-class Abominations—dire wolves, massive armored boars, and feral subterranean drakes—for transport and defense.

The moment Brenda’s aura hit them, the beasts’ tethers snapped.

Their minds were violently rewritten, their loyalty entirely bent to her will.

”Hunt,” Brenda whispered, her voice carrying a deep, hypnotic frequency.

Dozens of corrupted war-beasts instantly turned on their handlers.

A pack of massive dire wolves tore into the Goblin skirmishers from behind, ripping throats and crushing skulls.

A giant, armored boar, its eyes bloodshot and crazed under Brenda’s absolute dominance, stampeded down a narrow alleyway, flattening a line of Orc spearmen into paste.

”For the glory of the God of Beast” Brenda roared.

Brenda herself blurred through the chaos, her alloy-reinforced claws slicing through throats and splitting skulls with effortless, silent precision, leaving a trail of dismembered bodies in her wake.

Together with her army of dominated beasts and Trojan’s apocalyptic flames, the lower district of Norona City was being systematically decimated.

Deep within the inner sanctum of the obsidian castle, the atmosphere was thick with tension. The distant wail of the alarms and the faint, low tremors of Trojan’s explosions vibrated through the floorboards.

The official Troll advisor , his green robes disheveled and his long nose sweating profusely, burst into the throne room.

He fell to his knees, his voice cracking with sheer panic.

”Your Majesty! The Troll King!” the advisor shrieked, pressing his forehead against the cold stone.

”The forces from Tempest City has breached the outer gates! It... it is a massacre! We have identified the cultivator responsible for destroying the city gates” the advisor gulped hard.

”Who is he?” the Troll King questioned.

”He-He is Commander Trojan, a loyal soldier under Manuses—he is burning the lower sectors to ash! And Brenda is leading Beast-stage F-class Abominations against us!”

”I don’t know how they could achieve such feats but they who were Martial Masters not too long ago are Martial Generals”

”They are executing every sentry without mercy! We must redirect the vanguard—”

”Quiet,” a deep, grating voice interrupted.

Sitting upon a throne crafted from the bones of ancient desert behemoths, the Troll King didn’t even look down at his advisor.

His massive, rotting frame was wrapped in dark, ritualistic bandages, and his eyes glowed with a sickening, necrotic green energy.

He exhaled a breath that smelled of centuries-old decay.

”They are merely mortal ants testing the gates of a god,” the Troll King murmured, his voice echoing with hollow, dead resonance.

”Let them burn the lower streets. The ritual is already tethered to the desert’s core.”

”Dismiss yourself, advisor. Your panic offends my court.”

”By your will”

The advisor tensed, recognizing the underlying threat in his king’s voice.

Scrambling backward, he bowed frantically and hurriedly exited the throne room, slamming the heavy iron doors shut behind him.

The moment the doors clicked into place, the heavy silence of the throne room returned.

”To think a Martial Master could reach the realm of a Martial General within months” the Troll King’s eyebrows slightly narrowed.

”It seems this Tempest City isn’t as ordinary as I imagined” he exhaled a deep sigh.

The Troll King remained still, his long, jagged fingers tapping the bone armrest of his throne.

”You may come out,” the Troll King muttered to the empty air.

”Hehehehehehe Tempest sure are bold to invade your lands, Razarak” a calm human voice echoed across the empty room.

From the deep, shifting shadows lining the western wall of the chamber, the darkness began to peel away.

”And they’re growing faster than I imagined” the voice added.

Two tall figures stepped forward into the dim torchlight.

They wore immaculate, heavy white plate armor etched with inverted, weeping eyes and twisted runes—the unmistakable gear of high-ranking knight-priests from the Domini Kingdom.

Children of Misfortune.

Their faces were concealed behind polished steel visors, but the staggering, heavy weight of their individual Martial Lord auras instantly filled the throne room, matching the dark majesty of the Troll King himself.

”Even for humans with so much potential and cultivation talents, it’s nearly impossible for a Martial Master to reach the realm of Martial General within months”

The second knight-priest uttered, ”There may be a few ways to achieve such feats but they all have to do with divinity”

”It seems this Varanus of a god is involved” the second knight-priest exhaled a soft sigh.

”The God of Beast, Varanus” the first knight-priest muttered, he couldn’t help but chuckle.

”You said you’ll handle everything right, Razarak?” the first knight-priest asked.

”Yes” the Troll King answered.

”Good” the second knight-priest chipped, ”We are only here to make sure the ritual site isn’t affected”

”If it’s touched by any means.....”

”We won’t hesitate to intervene”