Beast Devourer: I Grow Stronger by Eating Monsters

Benefit outweighed risk.

Raven extended his hand and let the needle touch the inside of his wrist. He felt a brief prick before the device emitted a blue light. Seconds later, a small symbol appeared on his skin: three lines enclosed within a circle.

He felt mana running through the mark. Ember Spark reacted faintly inside him, as though it had recognized an external source of energy, but the system displayed no warning. Raven waited another couple of seconds out of caution and, when nothing changed, relaxed his wrist.

”Three days,” the guard repeated. ”After that, if you don’t regularize your status, the Guard can detain you.”

Raven put the paper away.

”And if I leave the city before then?”

”The mark disappears either way.”

”Good.”

The man gestured for the next person to step forward.

That was it. No questions about Earth, no interrogation, no threats of imprisonment. Just a fee, a temporary mark, and enough bureaucracy to almost make Raven nostalgic.

Inside Greyhaven, the first impression was the smell. Horses, smoke, cooked meat, sweat, drainage canals, tanned leather, spices, and garbage mixed in the air with the kind of intensity that could only come from too many people living behind the same wall.

The second impression was the noise. Vendors calling out their wares, hammers striking metal, wheels rolling over stone, animals, arguments, music from somewhere Raven couldn’t quite locate, and bells sounding above it all roughly every fifteen minutes from the central temple.

It was a living city.

Darius led the caravan down a wide avenue paved with dark stone while Raven watched both sides of the street.

”This is the West Gate. Most merchants pass through the caravan district before heading to the warehouses.”

Raven didn’t need to pretend to be curious. Everything was new.

A blacksmith had weapons hanging directly outside: swords, axes, and spears, some engraved with runes that gave off faint glimmers whenever the light struck them. The shop next door displayed bottles filled with colored liquids, while an establishment across the street had a huge sign showing a dragon impaled by three spears.

Raven pointed at it.

”Mercenary House?”

Darius followed his gaze.

”No. Tavern.”

Raven looked at the dragon again.

”Aggressive advertising.”

”The beer is worse.”

They kept moving.

There were far more nonhumans inside Greyhaven than on the roads outside, but what caught Raven’s attention wasn’t their number. It was the patterns that began to emerge the longer he watched.

Well-dressed humans almost always walked near the center of the streets, while free beastkin seemed to carry visible plates or insignias. People wearing collars stayed close to the walls or several steps behind those who were clearly their owners. The soldiers, meanwhile, ignored certain groups while stopping others to inspect documents.

An elf in fine clothing walked beside two human servants. A little farther ahead, Raven saw a human noble accompanied by a beastkin slave carrying a crate far too large for one person.

It wasn’t simply a matter of race. There were too many exceptions for that.

It was status, money, affiliation, and power.

The hierarchies overlapped, making the social system harder to read and, precisely because of that, probably more dangerous for someone who still didn’t know the rules.

Raven discreetly pointed toward a man walking on the other side of the street. He wore a metal collar around his neck, but his clothes were clean and there were no chains around his wrists.

”Slave too.”

Darius looked in that direction.

”Yes.”

”He’s not chained.”

”Domestic contract.”

”Can he run away?”

”Probably not.”

Raven studied the collar.

”Because of the mark?”

”Yes.”

The man walked several steps behind an elegant woman while carrying her bags. He didn’t look terrified, nor did he constantly scan his surroundings for an opportunity to escape. His expression showed something much harder to measure.

Resignation.

Raven had seen that expression before.

Not every cage needed visible bars.

A little later, he pointed toward a woman with fox ears who wore a small silver plate around her neck.

”What about her?”

”Free,” Darius said.

Raven looked at the plate again.

”Then why is she wearing a collar?”

”It’s not a collar. It’s a racial registration tag.”

Raven looked at him.

”Sounds similar.”

Darius grimaced.

”I’m not saying I agree with it.”

”But you accept it.”

”I live here.”

Raven considered the answer for a moment. At least it was honest. He respected that more than any speech intended to justify something that clearly didn’t need justification in order to continue existing.

Mira, still riding several yards away from them, spoke up.

”Not every city requires it.”

”But Greyhaven does.”

”For beastkin from territories without treaties.”

Raven looked at the silver plate again.

”And if they don’t wear one?”

Mira took a moment to answer.

”They can be detained.”

”And then?”

”It depends.”

”On what?”

Darius answered this time.

”On whether they can prove they’re free.”

Raven let out a quiet laugh.

”Interesting system.”

Mira turned her head toward him.

”Was that sarcasm?”

”Yes.”

It was the first time since entering Greyhaven that Raven had expressed anything resembling disapproval. Not because he’d suddenly developed an abolitionist calling, but because he recognized the mechanism far too well.

First, documents were required. Then the absence of those documents became grounds for suspicion. Finally, the detained person had to prove they possessed the right not to belong to anyone.

Governments could be remarkably creative when they used bureaucracy to achieve outcomes that a weapon would make too obvious.

His old world and this one weren’t so different.

Only the accessories had changed.

The caravan eventually reached a plaza where the crowd had begun to thicken. Raven noticed the raised wooden platform first, then, seconds later, the three posts mounted on top of it.

Darius slowed the horses. Mira, on the other hand, looked away.

”Bad timing.”

Raven studied the platform.

”What’s happening?”

A bell rang from somewhere nearby. It wasn’t the one from the central temple. This one was smaller and sharper, designed to draw the attention of everyone in the square.

Three people were led toward the platform.

Two men and a woman.

Their hands were bound behind their backs, they wore simple clothing, and each had a black symbol painted across their chest.

The crowd moved aside to let the guards pass, but no one seemed particularly alarmed by what was happening. Some merchants didn’t even stop working. A food vendor kept shouting prices only a few yards from the platform, while a child sat on his father’s shoulders to get a better view.

Predator’s Instinct picked up tension around Raven, but it wasn’t the kind of collective fear he would have expected from a crowd witnessing something unexpected.

It was anticipation.

”Execution,” he said.

He didn’t need to ask.

Darius nodded.

”Heretics.”

”What did they do?”

”I don’t know.”

Mira answered without looking directly at the platform.

”Forbidden cult, probably.”

The caravan needed to cross the square, but the crowd eventually blocked their path. Darius brought the horses to a complete stop, and Raven took the opportunity to keep watching.

A priest climbed onto the platform dressed in white and gold. He had short hair and a solar insignia hanging from his neck. Two soldiers forced the three prisoners onto their knees in front of the crowd.

When the priest raised one hand, the conversations gradually began to fade until almost the entire square fell silent.

”People of Greyhaven.”

His voice spread across the plaza, amplified by magic.