Starting Out As The God of Beasts

Hours had slowly trickled by since the two arrogant young Martial Warriors had forcefully dragged the golden-haired merchant deep into the narrow, dark alleyway.

When the commotion had first erupted, a sizable crowd of tavern patrons, street hawkers, and bitter, jealous onlookers had gathered near the entrance, eagerly awaiting the bloody conclusion.

They had anticipated seeing the two cultivators drag the ”helpless, mundane trash” back out into the light, battered, broken, and thoroughly stripped of his pride.

Yet, as the afternoon wore on, the alleyway remained dead silent.

Not a single scream of agony had echoed down the narrow passage, nor had any of the three men emerged.

Gradually, the majority of the impatient crowd lost interest, dispersing back into the bustling streets to mind their own business.

Only a handful of stubborn observers remained scattered near the tavern porch, their eyes continuously darting toward the dark mouth of the stone alley.

”What in the hell are those two taking so long for?” a burly farmer grumbled, leaning heavily on the handle of his iron wood-cutting axe.

He spat a dark glob of phlegm onto the wet cobblestones, his weathered face twisted in frustration.

”They’ve been in that dark hole for hours! How long does it take two refined cultivators to break the legs of one mundane merchant?”

A nearby mercenary nodded in agreement, taking a slow sip from his wooden mug of ale.

”You think they already finished him off? If the merchant is dead, those two might just be hiding out in the back alleys, waiting for nightfall so they can slip into The Sleeping Boar Inn and claim those divine women for themselves without sharing a single bronze coin with the rest of us.”

”That would be just like those arrogant bastards,” another watcher chimed in, sneering bitterly.

”They’ll keep the beauties all to themselves and leave us with nothing!”

Standing near the edge of the porch, an older, grey-haired baker frowned slightly, shaking his head.

”The merchant came to Kaelos City seeking refuge... he registered at the gate as a guest. Even if he is mundane, it isn’t right to murder a man in cold blood just for his wives.”

The surrounding men instantly turned toward the baker, erupting into loud, mocking laughter.

”Shut your trap, old man!” the farmer barked, scoffing heavily. ”In Kaelos City, strength is everything! A weakling holding two goddesses is a crime against nature itself. If he dies, it’s his own damn fault for being weak!”

Before the baker could respond, a sudden, frantic sound of heavy, splashing footsteps shattered the quiet atmosphere of the street.

”HELP! SOMEE!”

A high-pitched, pain-riddled scream tore through the air as a lone figure stumbled blindly out of the dark alleyway.

The remaining watchers gasped, their eyes widening in shock.

It was the first Martial Warrior—or what was left of him.

His right arm was a mangled, crushed mess, while his left sleeve hung completely empty, his arm severed cleanly from the shoulder.

Fresh, crimson blood drenched his leather armor, painting the wet street red with every desperate, staggering step he took.

Tears streamed down his pale, terrified face as he collapsed onto his knees in the middle of the thoroughfare.

The spectators snapped out of their stupor and rushed forward, surrounding the writhing cultivator.

”Hey! What happened to you?!” the farmer shouted, kneeling beside him to hold him steady by his collar.

”Where is your partner?! Where is the merchant?!”

The one-armed cultivator panted heavily, his chest heaving as he let out a pathetic, ragged sob, looking up at the surrounding crowd with eyes filled with pure, unadulterated anguish.

”He... he went mad!” the cultivator wept like a terrified child, his voice quivering with masterfully crafted desperation.

”The moment we stepped into the darkness... my partner... he murdered the merchant in cold blood! But... but he didn’t want to share! He turned his blade on me! He cut off my arm and claimed... claimed he would tell the merchant’s wives that I killed their husband, so he could act like their savior and force them into his bed!”

Hearing this, a violent wave of outrage exploded through the crowd of watchers.

”That treacherous bastard!” the mercenary roared, slamming his fist into his palm. ”To strike down his own brother-in-arms out of pure, disgusting greed?!”

”Unbelievable! He murdered the merchant and tried to frame his own comrade!”

The crowd grumbled and shouted in absolute fury, cursing the dead man’s name to the heavens.

Not a single soul among them possessed the mental capacity to realize that every word, every tear, and every drop of emotion bleeding from the cultivator’s lips was part of a terrifying, seamless play scripted by a Divine Spirit.

The farmer squeezed the one-armed warrior’s shoulder, his brows furrowed deeply.

”Where is the traitor now?! Did he escape?!”

The one-armed marionette choked back another sob, wiping his bloody nose with his shoulder. ”N-No... I killed him out of sheer desperation... I snapped his neck with my boots and dragged myself out before the darkness claimed me... I’m so sorry! I couldn’t save the merchant! I’m so sorry!”

The crowd watched the weeping, mutilated warrior with overwhelming waves of pity and righteous anger, completely unaware of the invisible web wrapped around their minds.

Meanwhile, a few hundred yards away from the chaotic scene.

Perched silently atop the high slate roof of a three-story tea house, a tiny, harmless brown sparrow stood motionless against the light mist.

Its small, bead-like eyes flickered with a subtle, mesmerizing golden-crimson hue as it gazed down upon the gathering crowd.

The bird slowly tilted its head to the side, its acute divine senses scanning the dense, subterranean foundations beneath the city’s administrative district.

’Found them... hehehehe,’ a soft, melodious voice echoed directly from the tiny bird’s throat, vibrating with cold, absolute satisfaction.

Through the eyes of the avian vessel, Roy had successfully locked onto the precise spiritual signatures of the captured Leopard-Kin held captive deep within Mayor Henar’s underground dungeons.

The exact location of his imprisoned kin was now fully mapped out within his divine consciousness.

The tiny bird turned its head back toward the center of the thoroughfare, watching the one-armed marionette continue his tearful performance amidst the crowd of over fifty spectators, guards, and merchants.

’It is time to self-destruct,’ the quiet voice whispered into the wind.

Deep within the chest of the one-armed marionette, the final, absolute command of its master detonated inside its mind.

The weeping cultivator’s tearful expression instantly froze into a completely blank, hollow void.

His hollow eyes lost their fake distress, turning as dull as stone.

Before any of the surrounding citizens could register the sudden, unnatural silence, the single, refined mana core residing within the marionette’s lower dantian began to expand at a terrifying, volatile speed.

The compressed internal energy turned chaotic, turning his veins into bright, glowing blue fissures across his skin.

The farmer’s eyes widened in sudden, primal terror as he felt the scorching heat radiating from the cultivator’s chest.

”Wait... what are you doing with your mana core—”

BOOOOOOOOOOM!

A blinding flash of radiant, blue-white light consumed the avenue.

The high-density mana core exploded with the catastrophic force of a targeted military warhead!

A devastating shockwave of compressed kinetic energy and searing fire ripped outward in an instantaneous, three-hundred-meter radius.

Cobblestones were torn from the earth, stone buildings crumbled like paper, and every single cultivator, merchant, and spectator standing within the blast zone was instantly vaporized into fine crimson dust and ash.

The thunderous roar of the explosion echoed across the entire sky of Kaelos City, shaking the very foundations of the Mayor’s grand estate.