Starting Out As The God of Beasts

The shockwave from the detonation rolled down the avenue like a physical wall, throwing up clouds of pulverized stone and ash that swallowed the surrounding buildings whole.

High Priest Arnold’s handsome, composed facade completely cracked.

“What in the name of the Sky God…?” Arnold muttered, his blue eyes wide with genuine, bewildered confusion.

The warmth in his expression vanished, replaced by a sudden, volatile irritation.

A localized explosion of that magnitude—occurring right inside a district his Grey Paladins were supposed to have completely secured—made no sense whatsoever.

Without a word to Roy, Arnold flexed his feet, kicking off the cobblestones with explosive force and charging directly toward the plume of dark, rising smoke.

Roy followed a few paces behind, his dark robes fluttering serenely as he glided through the air, his wrinkled face an absolute mask of elderly calm.

It took only a few seconds for them to cover the few hundred meters to the epicenter.

As High Priest Arnold touched down at the edge of the newly formed crater, his gaze instantly darkened into something pitch-black.

The color drained from his face, and his hands trembled slightly inside his long, embroidered sleeves.

The sight before them was an absolute, horrific slaughterhouse.

Every single Grey Paladin who had been deployed across the three cities to enforce the curfew, round up commoners, and hunt heretics was present in this single ruined square.

Or, more accurately, their remains were.

Dozens upon dozens of heavy wooden spears had been driven deep into the stone plaza, standing upright like a forest of tragic ironwood.

Impaled upon the tip of every single spear was the severed, silver-visored head of a Grey Paladin.

Their lifeless, blood-drained torsos and hollowed-out plate armor were tossed callously across the ground like broken tin toys, forming a grotesque ring around the perimeter.

At the absolute center of this macabre display stood the tallest spear.

Mounted upon it was the head of Inspector Lyrex.

The fear recorded on the commander’s frozen face was staggering.

His featureless silver visor had been completely shattered, exposing a wide-eyed, tear-streaked face.

His mouth was locked in a final, silent scream of unadulterated horror, drying tear tracks clearly visible through the crimson grime covering his cheeks.

It was obvious to anyone looking at him that the feared commander had sobbed and begged hysterically before his life was cut short.

High Priest Arnold took a slow, staggering step forward into the ring of corpses, his voice tight and shaking violently with disbelief.

“What… what is the meaning of this?!” Arnold rasped, his eyes darting frantically from one severed head to the next. “How… how could an entire vanguard be wiped out without a single signal flame?!”

In his current state of overwhelming shock, it was completely impossible for Arnold to suppress his cultivation.

BOOM!

The terrifying, absolute pressure of a Martial Lord erupted from his body like an raging volcanic explosion.

The surrounding air roared, and the very space around Arnold began to warp and distort, cracking like glass under the immense weight of his unleashed holy mana.

Stone debris floated off the ground before being instantly vaporized into fine grey dust.

Arnold tightly clenched his fists, his knuckles snapping like dry wood, his face twisting into a demonic, psychotic mask of unbridled rage.

He threw his head back toward the overcast sky and roared with the full power of his lungs—

“WHO DID THIS?!” Arnold screamed, his voice shattering the surrounding stone walls into avalanches of rubble.

“SHOW YOURSELF, YOU DEMONIC SCUM! I swear… I swear upon the sacred light of the heavens, I will peel the skin from your flesh and burn your soul in holy fire for a ten thousand years! You will NEVER escape the wrath of the Church of the God of the Sky!”

Beside himself with fury, Arnold violently waved his arm across the air.

SWISH!

A crescent wave of razor-sharp holy mana sliced through the square, instantly chopping down every wooden spear, sending the severed heads tumbling into the blood-soaked dirt.

Roy stood a few paces back, his hands tucked neatly into his sleeves, watching the High Priest’s psychotic breakdown with an entirely indifferent expression.

Yet, beneath his wrinkled disguise and cold demeanor, a dark, ruthless grin flickered in the absolute depths of Roy’s soul.

Flawless execution, Roy thought, inwardly praising his subordinate.

Grand Chancellor Manuses really outdid himself this time.

Just as High Priest Arnold was completely drowning in his own hysterical rage, his chest heaving as he gasped for air, a light, melodic voice echoed down from above, laughing softly at his immense sorrow.

“My, my… such terrible manners for a servant of the heavens,” the voice teased playfully. “Do you not like my gift, High Priest?”

Both Roy and High Priest Arnold instantly snapped their heads upward.

Perched casually on the intact edge of a ruined stone rooftop was a tall, strikingly handsome young man.

He had smooth, porcelain skin that seemed to glow under the grey sunlight, sleek golden hair cascading down his shoulders, and radiant golden eyes that danced with amused malice.

He wore a stylish, loose half-top that left his muscular torso partially exposed, and a crooked, lopsided grin rested on his lips.

He sat with one leg dangling casually over the edge of the roof, twirling a broad-brimmed hat between his fingers.

High Priest Arnold gritted his teeth so hard blood trickled from his gums.

His blue eyes locked onto the golden-haired stranger with pure, lethal hatred.

“You…” Arnold hissed, his voice trembling with a violent desire to murder. “Were you the one who slaughtered my men?!”

Manuses, keeping his human disguise perfectly intact, stopped twirling his hat.

He slowly placed it over his golden hair, tipping the brim with two fingers as he offered a polite, theatrical bow from his seated position.

“I sure am,” Manuses replied with a smooth, delighted chuckle.

“It was quite a bit of work rounding them all up from the three cities, but I thought a High Priest of your grand stature deserved a proper welcome present.”

“DIE!”

High Priest Arnold didn’t wait another second.

The space around his feet instantly imploded as he vanished from his spot in a fraction of a millisecond.

CRACK!

Arnold materialized directly above Manuses on the rooftop, his entire right arm shimmering with a dense, golden-white pillar of destructive Martial Lord mana.

With a murderous roar, he brought his fist crashing down in an all-out, earth-shattering strike meant to obliterate the heretic into atomic dust!

BANG!

The explosive force of the strike connected directly with the building, but Manuses was already gone.

In less than a second, the entire four-story stone structure shattered into millions of flying rocks, collapsing into a massive crater of dust and fire.

Before High Priest Arnold could even turn around to search for his target—

SWISH.

A sudden, terrifying gust of wind blew right behind the Peerless Supreme Elder.

Manuses materialized out of thin air directly behind Roy.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Manuses shot his large, pale hand forward, clamping his fingers tightly around the “elder’s” throat, locking Roy in a firm, suffocating grip.

Manuses leaned his head slightly over Roy’s shoulder, his golden eyes locking onto High Priest Arnold through the settling dust, his lopsided grin widening into a predatory sneer.

“Hold it right there, High Priest,” Manuses warned smoothly, his fingers tightening just enough to make a show of it.

“Take one step closer… and I snap this old man’s neck like a dry twig.”