Starting Out As The God of Beasts

Another sun rose over the Northern Hashian Mountains, painting the sky in pale shades of amber and gray, but bringing no warmth to the terrified populace below.

In Jayrel City, Oscros City, and Kaelos Province, the patrolling squads of Grey Paladins continued their unrelenting, systematic searches.

Clad in their heavy, radiant silver armor, the holy knights marched through the cobblestone streets like mechanical reapers.

Every time the heavy thud of steel boots echoed outside a wooden doorstep, the citizens inside hid in absolute terror, trembling behind locked doors and drawn curtains.

Mothers held their children’s mouths shut to muffle their breathing, while fathers prayed in desperate silence to whatever god would listen.

The citizens walked on eggshells, taking every conceivable precaution to avoid drawing the eye of the holy warriors.

They bowed their heads to the dirt when passed, offered no eye contact, and spoke only when spoken to.

Yet, despite the people’s careful and submissive nature, it did not stop the Paladins from fabricating issues.

Driven by frustration, the silver-armored zealots began pointing fingers at random.

A faint scowl, a hesitant answer, an unkempt shrine, or simply owning a book written in an unfamiliar script was enough to trigger an accusation of dark worship.

Those accused of heresy were not killed on the spot like the unfortunate family in Jayrel City.

Instead, they were dragged away in heavy iron chains under the official pretext of being taken in for ’deeper spiritual investigation.’

It was a fate worse than a quick execution.

Once dragged into the makeshift dungeons established beneath the local guard posts, those men and women were never seen again.

Their screams vanished behind thick stone walls, and their names were quietly erased from the city registries.

High above the rooftops of Oscros City, a solitary figure hovered motionless in the cold morning sky.

It was Inspector Lyrex, commander of the Grey Paladin unit.

His arms were crossed tight over his silver breastplate, his heavy broadsword strapped securely to his back.

From his aerial vantage point, his featureless visor swept coldly over the sprawling, maze-like streets of the city below.

Whenever a brave citizen chanced a glance up at the sky and spotted the terrifying figure suspended in mid-air like an omen of death, they immediately fled into the nearest alley or house, terrified of catching the Paladin leader’s attention.

Beneath his stoic posture, Inspector Lyrex was growing deeply, dangerously anxious.

Multiple days had passed since the crusade began, yet his unit had found absolutely nothing.

Not a single true trace, hidden altar, or magical footprint left by the Apostle of the God of Beast had been uncovered.

Lyrex knew the truth: the dozens of commoners his men had dragged off in chains over the past forty-eight hours were nothing more than a desperate cover-up to mask their total failure.

They were arresting innocent mortals simply to fabricate progress reports, proving to the church elders that the Grey Paladins were actively working to root out evil.

However, superficial arrests of weak mortals could only buy him so much time.

High Priest Arnold was not a fool.

Soon, the High Priest would demand the head of the Apostle, and if Lyrex failed to deliver real results before His Eminence Cardinal Ryoger arrived, his own career—and perhaps his life—would be forfeited to the Church’s strict penal code.

He needed concrete results. He needed blood that mattered.

Suddenly, Inspector Lyrex’s body stiffened. His holy mana perception—honed through decades of martial refinement—sharply picked up a distinct, surging mana signature slicing through the lower eastern quarter of Oscros City.

It was the undeniable aura of a Martial General.

It was suppressed, fleeting, and moving with blinding speed across the rooftops, but it definitely did not match the heavy, defensive aura of the city’s local Mayor or his registered guards.

A jolt of dark excitement shot through Inspector Lyrex’s chest.

’Finally!’ he thought, his eyes widening beneath his visor. ’A rat has shown its tail!’

Without a moment’s delay, Lyrex burst forward, his body cutting through the air like a silver comet, causing a sharp sonic boom to echo over the city’s residential sector.

He tracked the lingering trails of the foreign aura, diving low toward the eastern quarter.

He searched every alleyway, darted between narrow stone buildings, and scanned every hidden courtyard with frantic, predatory focus.

But as the minutes ticked by, the mana signature grew fainter and fainter, until it completely vanished into thin air without leaving a single microscopic trace behind.

It was as if the martial master had never existed at all.

Ten minutes passed. Then twenty.

Inspector Lyrex dropped down into a damp, desolate back alley, his feet hitting the mud with a heavy, metallic crash.

His gaze darkened into something downright murderous, his patience completely snapping under the weight of his humiliation.

The rat had played him.

He had been led on a wild goose chase through the dirty alleys of a mortal city like a clueless hound.

BANG!

Lyrex slammed his steel gauntlet against the stone wall of the alley, shattering the brickwork into powder.

He stood there in the narrow shadow, his broad chest heaving, his fist clenched so hard the steel joints groaned under the strain.

At that exact moment, an elderly mundane man carrying a wooden basket of dried fish turned the corner into the alleyway.

The old man froze the instant he saw the silver giant standing in the shadow.

Terror seized his heart, and he immediately dropped his basket, falling to his knees and bowing his head deep into the dirt.

”G-Forgive me, noble holy lord!” the old man stammered, his voice trembling violently. ”I did not mean to intrude upon your holy presence! I am just a humble merchant—”

Inspector Lyrex slowly turned his head toward the defenseless old man. The dark, suffocating rage boiling inside the Paladin needed an outlet—any outlet.

”Silence, demonic worm,” Lyrex hissed, his voice cold, raspy, and completely devoid of sanity.

Before the old man could even register the words, Inspector Lyrex closed the distance in a fraction of a second.

His massive, steel-clad hand shot out like a iron vise, clamping down directly over the old man’s skull.

”Lord, mercy—!”

CRUNCH!

With a sickening, wet pop, Lyrex flexed his Martial General strength.

The old man’s skull yielded instantly under the crushing pressure, blood and bone fragments exploding through the gaps in the Paladin’s gauntlet, splashing onto the damp alley walls.

The lifeless body dropped like a sack of stones, twitching once before going entirely still.

Inspector Lyrex stood over the corpse, breathing heavily.

As he wiped the dark crimson blood from his silver gauntlet onto his leather cloak, he felt the violent rage in his chest ease just a tiny bit.

Yet, it wasn’t enough. The small taste of death only made his inner bloodlust burn hotter.

He needed to kill more.

He needed to burn a whole street down to truly cleanse the infuriating humiliation twisting his heart.

Without offering the dead mortal a second glance, Inspector Lyrex kicked the corpse aside, kicked off the ground, and shot back up into the clouds, searching for his next excuse to unleash his blade.

The alley fell into absolute silence once more.

The heavy stench of metallic blood hung thick in the cold air.

A few seconds passed.

Gradually, the deep shadow cast by the wall near the old man’s body began to writhe and ripple like dark water.

Out from the absolute darkness stepped a graceful, slender figure clad in simple, elegant traveler’s robes.

It was Alisa, maintaining her disguised human form.

A lopsided, wicked grin was written across her pale lips, but her sharp, amber eyes were devoid of any warmth as she looked down at the mangled body lying at her feet.

She slowly walked over, kneeling beside the elderly merchant.

She gently closed the old man’s single remaining eye with her fingertips, letting out a soft, heavy sigh.

”Forgive me, old soul,” Alisa murmured, her raspy, melodic voice dropping into a solemn vow.

”I swear upon the sacred, eternal name of Lord Varanus... your blood will not be shed in vain. That arrogant tin can and every holy fanatic wearing his banner will pay for this tenfold.”

She stood up, her grin fading into a look of genuine, heavy guilt.

She had deliberately leaked her Martial General aura just enough to lure the Paladin commander into a wild chase, testing his reaction speed and mental stability for her upcoming ambush.

She had succeeded in proving how unstable and easily manipulated Inspector Lyrex was... but she hadn’t anticipated the zealot taking his frustration out on a random passerby.

”A foolish, tragic casualty of my silly game...” Alisa whispered, her eyes flickering with dark, lethal intent as she vanished back into the shadows of the alley.

”Don’t worry... the harvest of their holy blood begins tonight.”