Lord Of Beasts

Ethan spent twelve hours facing beast after beast, fight after fight.

He was efficient with his new tactic - his beasts growing with each encounter.

When he needed it, he rested and ate beast meat, and when he didn’t, he fed it to Wolfy and Talon. Both of them seemed to possess bottomless stomachs and could somehow eat more than their own mass.

What was more alarming was how quickly Wolfy was growing, its size already nearing that of a medium-sized dog. That wasn’t anything special, but compared to being a puppy he could hold in his hand, it was unfathomable.

His beasts were also becoming more intelligent, or more correctly, he was starting to sync with them more easily.

It wasn’t like he could hear their thoughts or understand their speech, and vice versa, but there was a silent understanding between them.

Intention - that’s what was driving their communication.

It flowed between them effortlessly, not that his summons always adhered to his own. In the heat of the moment, he could rely on them, but sometimes they did as they pleased, especially Wolfy.

They understood his commands with minimal direction, and Ethan understood their reactions.

At one point, Wolfy visibly sulked when Ethan summoned it after having summoned Talon for a series of previous encounters. It even refused to help him in the battle until he promised to summon it more.

Talon also seemed to be a picky eater and would nibble at different parts of the beasts they killed, then leave the rest of it for Wolfy to devour.

He was starting to see them less as weapons but more as sentient beings he could call upon for help - not that it made him have mercy on other beasts.

Aside from his own acquired beasts, everything else was prey.

But his companions weren’t the only ones making progress.

Ethan was also growing unknowingly, though his stats might not display it; each battle made him sharper, more decisive, and more controlled. Every hour he spent in this tower, and the more he assimilated with his beasts, the more he was changing.

Whether it was for the better, only time would tell...

-

Ethan stared up at the yellow sky that never darkened, lying flat against a scorching stone. The heat was as relentless as always; his body felt like a shrivelled raisin beneath it.

”This is probably enough for one day.”

He didn’t want to push too far.

’15 beasts, one of them being an Elite Beast. Not bad for my first day.’

Though he hadn’t sustained any catastrophic injuries, his body was battered, bruised, and drained. It was a wonder how he even managed to face as many beasts as he had.

Most importantly, he was severely dehydrated - no amount of beast meat he consumed seemed to fix that.

His muscles trembled faintly from overuse, his skin was burnt, and his mind ached from constant hyper-awareness.

He was supposed to be sleeping in the real world.

Instead, he had spent half a day hunting beasts in an endless rocky wasteland through sheer adrenaline and stubborn willpower.

This body was on its last legs, and even his MP was struggling to recover in his current condition - facing another beast like this was just plain stupid.

’I can do another 12 tomorrow, making 24 hours total and clearing my first objective.’

That was the smartest course of action: it was steady, consistent, and efficient.

As such, he brought up the system interface and navigated to the Tower Tab.

At the centre was a single button, and he had one Return Token available.

{Exit The Tower}

He wasn’t in combat, nor in danger, so the option was available.

Despite how insane everything about this was, it was starting to feel normal, and Ethan had adjusted quickly to it all.

He pressed the button, and the world distorted instantly as the Rocky Plains stretched and warped.

Then, he suddenly felt himself getting sucked away back to his real body.

-

Ethan jolted awake.

The first thing he felt was the thin, slightly deflated air mattress beneath him.

The second was his heart hammering in his chest.

He shot upright instantly.

”What time is it?”

He scrambled for his phone and checked the screen.

Almost exactly twelve hours had passed since he had gone to sleep, the same amount of time he had spent inside the Tower.

Something else quickly caught his attention.

”No way.”

Inside the Tower, his body had been battered, dehydrated beyond belief, and pushed to its absolute limit.

But now?

He felt completely refreshed: no aches, tremors, or dryness in his throat.

’It’s like my soul literally jumped from one body to another.’

The Tower Body had been collapsing, but this one was fine, perfectly rested after a long night’s sleep. But what he had experienced in that sleep had been far from a good dream.

And this time, upon waking up, there was no doubt in his mind that what he had experienced was real.

He could feel that his body had progressed, and the improvements in his Tower Body had somehow translated over to his real body.

Ethan then swung his legs off the mattress and rushed to the mirror.

But not to flex or admire his muscle definition.

’Where’s the tattoo?’

He yanked his shirt off and scanned his body.

There it was - the Ulfen, detailed and stretched across his chest like a living emblem.

He touched it lightly, and it almost felt warm, confirming his earlier hypothesis.

”In my Tower Body? No tattoos.”

”In real life? Congratulations. I’m a walking wildlife mural.”

He leaned closer to the mirror.

The Ulfen was clear, but where was the Skyrend Hawk he had acquired?

He twisted slightly, but still couldn’t see anything.

His stomach dropped.

”Don’t tell me it’s on my ass...”

He quickly turned around fully, and that’s when he saw it.

Across his upper back was an intricate tattoo of a Skyrend Hawk with its wings spread across his lats.

”That’s pretty cool,” he admitted.

The tattoos didn’t look flat; they looked alive.

The hawk’s orange eyes almost seemed to glint, and the Ulfen’s fur lines looked real and textured.

”But it’s going to be hard to explain if I’m ever shirtless.”

He pulled his clothes back on.

Physically, he felt rested, but mentally? Not even close.

His mind was buzzing.

Despite that, instead of going back to sleep for real this time, he had an idea.

’If pushing my body in the Tower makes it stronger...’

He began, a deranged smile spreading across his face.

’Then, constantly using my MP and recovering it should strengthen that too.’

It made sense: muscles grow when stressed, so why wouldn’t MP?

With that thought in mind, the madman began his brutal cycle of training...