Starting Out As The God of Beasts

The wind sweeping across the Northern Hashian Mountains carried the sharp, familiar scent of copper and dried blood.

For the beastmen who sought refuge within its jagged peaks, the region was nothing short of a sunlit hell.

While Roy and his two Duchesses made their seamless journey from the heart of the Varanial Region toward the borderlands of the Jura Eastern Continent, the indigenous populations of the Northern Hashian Mountains fought a silent, desperate war for survival.

Scattered among the crags and dense, shadowed valleys were numerous beastmen tribes, each driven to the brink of extinction by the continuous, systemic hunts executed by the powers of Kaelos City.

But hidden from the vigilant eyes of those human hunters was a remnant of one of the mountain’s most dangerous lineages—the Crimson Spotted Leopard-kin.

Unlike the common beastmen tribes whose faces possessed human symmetry and soft features, the Crimson Spotted Leopard-kin bore the uncompromising countenances of true apex predators.

They were tall, heavily muscular beings whose very presence radiated physical power.

Their most lethal attribute, however, lay in their tails.

Covered in a natural, metallic-black carapace that glittered like polished steel, a single, fluid swipe of a Leopard-kin’s tail possessed enough kinetic force to slice through solid stone walls as if they were wet clay.

They were an A-class species among the Leopard-kin—a lineage endowed with raw physical talents that made even seasoned human fighters tread lightly.

It was precisely this natural dominance that made them the target of Kaelos City’s deepest fears.

Human leaders knew that if such an A-class species was allowed to multiply and consolidate its power, the balance of the northern territory would shatter.

Consequently, squads of elite Martial Warriors, supported by formidable Martial Masters, relentlessly hunted the Leopard-kin, seeking to eradicate their bloodline entirely.

Several kilometers away from Kaelos City and the sprawling agrarian villages that ringed its outer perimeter, a hidden cave sat nestled at the base of a jagged ravine.

Surrounded by massive, crumbling boulders and choked by ancient ivy, sunlight barely managed to touch the cave’s mouth.

It was cold, dark, and damp—the ideal sanctuary for fugitives running out of options.

High above this hidden sanctuary, perched on the narrow edge of a mountain cliff, stood two Crimson Spotted Leopard-kin.

They were scouts deployed by the tribal elders to watch the valley approaches and signal the cave if human hunting parties appeared.

The pair consisted of a male and a female.

Both were armed for swift, lethal close-quarters combat, carrying paired daggers forged from dark iron.

The male held a heavy wooden spear tipped with a jagged steel blade dripping with neurotoxic poison, while the female carried a reinforced composite bow, an arrow already loosely nocked against its string.

The distinct, crimson-spotted patterns on their fur were vibrant, marking them both as young adults in the prime of their physical strength.

As they stood watch against the backdrop of the vast mountain expanse, the two passed the long, monotonous hours by speaking in low, rhythmic tones.

”Look at us,” the male muttered, a sardonic smile pulling back his black lips to reveal rows of pointed teeth. ”We possess muscle that can crush iron and tails that can fell trees, yet here we stand, crouching on rocks like frightened rodents because a few pale humans decided to brandish swords.”

The female did not turn her head, her sharp, slitted golden eyes continuously scanning the tree line below. ”Arrogance will get you killed faster than a human blade, Kael. Raw strength means little when they bring numbers, tactical formations, and refined battle techniques.”

”They are weak, Yaller!” Kael grumbled, his tail twirling behind him, its metallic plates clicking softly with his irritation. ”Individually, a human is nothing! They are fragile, soft-skinned creatures that snap when you press them. I detest every last one of them.

I wish the elders would let us descend upon their villages at night. We could feast on their flesh until the rivers run red.”

Yaller let out a soft sigh, her ears flicking back.

”Not all humans are driven by malice, Kael. Do not judge an entire race based on those who are blinded by greed and fear.

Think about it—there are beastmen tribes who raid human settlements and feast on their young, but does that mean every beastman feasting on meat is a monster?”

”It is different,” Kael growled, tightening his grip on his poison-laced spear, his muscles flexing beneath his spotted hide. ”They hunt us for sport, for our hides, and to clear the land for their sects.

There is no honor in what they do. Every human in this mountain range deserves the same fate.”

”They hunt us because they fear what we are,” Yaller countered quietly, her fingers resting lightly on the fletching of her arrow. ”When fear rules a mind, reason vanishes. If we become blind with hatred, we are no better than the ones driving us into these dark corners.”

Kael snorted, thoroughly unimpressed by her words, though the rage in his chest subsided into a lingering, quiet simmer. ”You soft-hearted fool. One day your mercy will—”

He turned his head to the left, his ears twitching as he thought he heard the faint rustle of dry leaves catching the wind.

Seeing nothing but empty rock, he turned back toward his companion, opening his mouth to speak.

The words died in his throat.

Yaller was no longer standing.

She was collapsed on the stone floor, her bow clattering uselessly against the gravel.

”YALLERR!!” Kael screamed, the sound echoing harshly off the stone faces surrounding the cliff.

Discarding his spear, he dropped to his knees and rushed to her side, his large hands trembling as he reached out to pull her up.

As he gathered her into his arms, his golden eyes widened in utter horror.

The center of Yaller’s face had been reduced to a ruined, bloody cavity.

A single, unseen projectile had struck her with terrifying velocity, obliterating her skull from the front before exiting out the back without making a sound higher than the whistling wind.

She hadn’t even had time to scream, let alone draw her weapon.

Kael’s breath hitched, a cold, suffocating dread settling deep in his stomach.

He raised his head slowly, his slitted eyes frantically sweeping the cliffside, the distant tree line, and the sky above.

There was no one.

The vast, mountainous landscape looked completely empty, undisturbed save for the gentle sway of distant pines.

Yet Kael knew with absolute certainty what this meant.

A mundane hunter or a standard Martial Warrior could never strike an A-class beastman scout from such a distance with absolute silence and lethal precision.

Only a true cultivator possessed the terrifying ability to manipulate energy from afar to pull off a strike like that.

A single, chilling realization struck him, shattering his grief into pure panic.

Their position was gone.

The hideout had been compromised, and the hunters were already here.