Starting Out As The God of Beasts

Roy inhaled deeply, the cool night air filling his lungs as his emotionless gaze fixed upon the two human cultivators standing rigid before him.

They stood perfectly upright amidst the filth of the narrow alley, their eyes completely hollow, glossy, and stripped of every drop of human consciousness.

It was only natural.

The Divine Authority of Mindcraft was an absolute, divine force—a power rooted in the divine manifestation itself.

When Roy activated it, the invisible domain instantly invaded their minds, seeking total subjugation.

But because their mortal souls were far too fragile and weak to withstand the sheer, suffocating pressure of a Divine Authority, their mana cores had simply been purged from their bodies.

Their souls were gone, turned to ash in a fraction of a second.

They had been transformed into literal dead marionettes—walking corpses kept alive only by the faint, artificial thread of Roy’s lingering authority animating their nervous systems.

Roy let out a quiet sneer, looking over the two puppets.

Their pitiful arrogance and greed were not enough to make him despise the entire human species as a whole—he was too ancient and composed for such sweeping emotional generalizations.

He simply held an absolute, cold disdain for scums like them who abused their meager power to prey on the weak.

”It seems I need to adjust how this game will be played,” Roy murmured softly, his lips curling into a faint, dark line.

He looked directly at the first Martial Warrior—the one whose hand he had previously crushed into a mangled pulp—and issued a silent, mental directive: Kill your companion.

Then, he turned his focus to the second marionette, bestowing a contrasting order:

Resist with everything you have until your final breath.

Deal as much heavy damage to him as physically possible before you fall.

Without a single moment of hesitation, double-thought, or emotional resistance, both marionettes obeyed.

BOOM!

The silent alleyway exploded into violent, chaotic action.

The first Martial Warrior surged forward, his uninjured left arm coiling like a steel spring as he channeled every drop of his internal mana into a brutal, straight punch aimed at his comrade’s throat.

The second marionette, operating under his defensive command, reacted instantaneously.

He crossed his forearms before his chest, reinforcing his skin with a dense layer of compressed internal energy.

The fist collided with his guard with the force of a battering ram.

The sheer kinetic shockwave blew away the stagnant rainwater on the cobblestones, shattering the wooden shutters of the adjacent building.

Driven by mindless, suicidal directives, neither man felt pain, fear, or self-preservation.

They fought with a terrifying, mechanical efficiency.

The second warrior lashed out with a sweeping roundhouse kick, the reinforced blow catching the first warrior directly in the ribs.

The impact sounded like snapping timber, hurling the first marionette sideways.

He crashed heavily into the stone wall of the alley, pulverizing the brickwork into powder before bouncing back onto his feet without dropping his guard.

As Martial Warriors, both men possessed only a single, foundational mana core within their lower dantians.

Their ability to project mana was crude, relying primarily on reinforcing their physical flesh from within to achieve superhuman speed, durability, and raw strength.

Roy stepped back slightly, leaning casually against the damp stone wall of the alleyway entrance.

He folded his arms across his chest, his golden-crimson eyes casually tracking every strike, shift in stance, and flow of internal energy like a scholar observing insects under a lens.

Realizing his physical strength was compromised by his shattered right hand, the first marionette dropped his stance.

He drew a deep, ragged breath, pulling every remaining drop of mana from his single core and channeling it toward his left palm.

His skin turned a pale, glowing blue as the ambient spiritual energy condensed into a high-density sphere.

BANG!

He thrust his open palm forward, launching an aerial, mana-concentrated bullet through the dark air!

The condensed projectile tore through the atmospheric pressure with a high-pitched screech.

The second warrior crossed his arms to block, but the aerial bullet pierced directly through his mana defense, drilling a bloody, gaping hole through his left shoulder!

Staggering backward, the second marionette did not falter.

Driven by Roy’s command to inflict maximum damage before dying, he retaliated instantly.

He brought his right arm back, his fingers shaping into a rigid, blade-like posture as he channeled his remaining internal power along the edge of his hand.

He unleashed his own technique—a brutal, close-range Mana Manipulation Art!

SWISH!

His hand swept downward like a guillotine.

A visible, pressurized blade of condensed mana arc flashed through the air, severing the first warrior’s healthy left arm clean off at the shoulder!

Blood erupted in a crimson geyser, splashing against the alley walls.

Yet, the one-armed first warrior didn’t even flinch.

Using the momentum of his falling body, he lunged forward, using his remaining shoulder to slam into the second warrior, tackling him hard onto the muddy cobblestones.

Before the second marionette could recover his balance, the first warrior raised his heavy, boot-clad leg high into the air and brought it down with terrifying, absolute force!

CRACK-SPLISH!

The heavy boot caved in the second warrior’s skull like a ripe melon, painting the stone ground in dark gore.

The second marionette’s body twitched violently once, then went completely still, his command fulfilled to the absolute end.

Silence returned to the alley, broken only by the steady patter of rain and the heavy, ragged gasps of the surviving marionette.

The one-armed, blood-soaked victor stood motionlessly above the corpse of his former friend, dripping red from his severed shoulder, waiting for further instruction.

Roy slowly clapped his hands together, three soft, rhythmic sounds echoing through the dark space.

His lips were laced with a faint, amused smile as he stepped into the bloody scene.

”Magnificent efficiency,” Roy remarked softly.

The surviving marionette remained completely motionless.

He did not turn to face his master, nor did he make a single movement, standing like a carved statue in the dark.

Roy, whose curious mind was constantly seeking to understand the mechanics of this world’s martial systems, looked at the puppet.

”Tell me... what was that secret technique you two unleashed against one another just now?”

The marionette’s jaw unhinged slightly, his voice coming out flat, monotonous, and completely devoid of inflection, like a recording played through a broken pipe.

”It... is... Mana Manipulation... Techniques...” the puppet croaked, his dead eyes staring blankly at the wall ahead. ”Secret... battle arts... used by cultivators... to directly suppress... refine... and shape internal energy... bypassing crude muscle reinforcement... to amplify offensive output...”

Roy stood quietly in the alleyway, his mind dropping into deep, rapid calculation.

For nearly an hour, he remained entirely still, sifting through the puppet’s vague explanations, deconstructing the fundamental principles of how mortal cultivators manipulated their internal channels.

Mana Manipulation Techniques...

If he could fully master the underlying theory behind these arts, he could synthesize, adapt, and create far superior, divine-tier techniques tailored specifically for the people of Varania—and most importantly, for his loyal beastman followers.

Armed with systematically optimized techniques, their combat potential would multiply a hundredfold.

”Where did a minor city like Kaelos acquire such structured techniques for low-tier Martial Warriors?” Roy inquired coldly.

The marionette’s dry throat clicked. ”The technique manual... was a reward... bestowed by the Sect Leader... of the Glorious Mythical Sect... to the Mayor of Kaelos City... for securing beastman livestock...”

Hearing those words, Roy’s dual golden-crimson eyes lit up with a sudden, dazzling flash of raw, unadulterated greed.

A sinister, blooming smirk spread across his handsome face.

He had already intended to destroy the Glorious Mythical Sect to avenge his kin and expand his authority, but now... now he had an even greater motivation.

A sect of that scale undoubtedly possessed vast libraries of ancient technique manuals, high-tier cultivation scriptures, and centuries of accumulated resources.

He wasn’t just going to burn the Glorious Mythical Sect to the ground.

He was going to thoroughly, systematically plunder every single piece of knowledge and wealth they possessed.

Roy turned his gaze toward the bloody, mutilated marionette standing before him, his smirk settling into a cold, final line.

It was time to issue this dead puppet his final command.