Beast Devourer: I Grow Stronger by Eating Monsters

South Relay had to be operational before noon.

Raven intended to make sure it was.

Not because he had suddenly developed an attachment to roadside stations, trade routes, or roof beams. His contract simply had two parts.

The supplies had already arrived.

The basic restoration was not yet complete.

Which meant part of his payment technically still belonged to someone else.

Raven found that situation unpleasant.

The sun had barely cleared the horizon when he was already on the main roof with Taren and two workers, positioning the beam meant to replace the one something had shattered during the night.

The new piece was thicker.

That did not mean it would survive if another mule fell on it.

Raven tried not to think too much about that possibility while pushing one end of the timber toward its support.

”More to the left,” Taren said.

Raven shifted the beam a few centimeters.

”There?”

”A little more.”

He moved it again.

”There?”

”Yes.”

One of the workers hammered a wedge into place.

Stonehide covered part of Raven’s forearms, not because he needed the full Trait, but because holding a heavy beam for several minutes while two of his ribs were still finishing their repairs seemed like an unnecessary way to complicate the morning.

Below them, Valeria sat on a crate.

She wasn’t helping.

That was deliberate.

Raven had watched her spend too much blood during the last several days, and although she insisted she had completely recovered, there was no reason for an Elite Blood Mage to use her own blood to hold up a roof that four ordinary people could repair with ropes.

She appeared offended by the logic.

”I could finish that in a minute.”

Raven didn’t look down.

”You could.”

”Then why am I still down here?”

”Because you don’t need to cut your fingers open to repair architecture.”

”I don’t always have to cut myself.”

”You did yesterday.”

”Yesterday we were stopping a plank from falling on Roland.”

From the corral came the archer’s voice.

”Still grateful.”

Raven pushed the beam until it settled into place.

”Today he isn’t underneath it.”

Roland appeared carrying two buckets.

”Also grateful for that.”

Valeria looked between them.

”You’re both intolerably practical.”

Raven climbed down from the support.

”It keeps people alive.”

”It also makes conversations remarkably dull.”

Raven pointed toward the roof.

”When we’re finished, you can find entertainment.”

Valeria smiled.

”I already have.”

Raven decided not to ask.

The morning remained quiet.

Too quiet for several people inside the relay.

The horses were still restless after the previous night, but the workers had reinforced the corral. Taren had placed an extra guard on the small western watchtower, while Roland had checked the road twice at dawn and found nothing new.

The broken beam remained off to one side as a reminder.

So did the dried patch of blood nearby.

Something had passed over the relay.

Something capable of lifting a mule.

Something large enough for two caravans to notice its shadow from the road.

But nothing was attacking them now.

So Raven kept working.

That distinction mattered.

He could spend the entire day preparing for threats that might never come and accomplish nothing.

He preferred dealing with the ones that actually existed.

Taren wiped his hands on his trousers.

”With that beam in place, we can cover the last section.”

”How much after that?”

”Seal two gaps, repair one gutter, and inspect the stable support.”

”Before noon?”

”If nothing else falls out of the sky.”

Raven looked at him.

Taren raised both hands.

”I shouldn’t have said that.”

”No.”

Valeria laughed from below.

The first warning wasn’t a shout.

It was every horse in the relay trying to move at once.

One animal slammed sideways into the corral fence hard enough to make the fresh timber groan. Another reared and nearly struck the horse behind it. Harness rings rattled, hooves hammered against packed earth, and within seconds the entire enclosure had become a mass of frightened muscle and white eyes.

Raven stopped working.

That wasn’t normal nervousness.

The horses weren’t looking toward the gate.

They were looking up.

Predator’s Instinct still showed nothing nearby, but Raven had already learned how little that meant when danger was hundreds of meters away.

Roland emerged from behind the stable with his bow already in hand.

”Again.”

Then the wind changed.

Not direction.

Pressure.

A faint downward push rolled across the relay, barely strong enough to stir dust at first. Loose straw lifted from the courtyard and slid several meters across the ground. One of the canvas covers over the supply wagon snapped once, violently, despite the otherwise calm morning.

Valeria stood.

Her expression had changed.

”That wasn’t natural wind.”

Raven followed the horses’ attention toward the western sky.

At first, there was nothing.

Then a worker on the roof whispered, ”There.”

Raven found it.

A black speck above the western ridge.

Too distant for shape.

Too steady to be a drifting bird.

It moved toward them without changing altitude.

The speck grew.

Slowly at first.

Then much faster.

Raven climbed down from the roof.

He did not run for the rifle.

He went to Taren.

”Move every wagon under cover.”

The supervisor was still staring upward.

”Is that—”

”Yes. Move them.”

Taren reacted.

”Wagons inside! Now!”

The drivers grabbed the reins. Workers scattered through the courtyard, dragging tools and loose materials out of the open.

Raven pointed toward the corrals.

”Keep the horses inside the stone wall. No light roofs over them.”

Roland understood immediately.

”If it dives, they’ll panic.”

”And I don’t want a roof collapsing on top of them when they do.”

Raven looked toward the watchtower.

”Archers.”

Two guards were already preparing their bows.

”Do not fire yet.”

One looked down at him.

”Why?”

”Because you can’t hit it from there, and missed arrows will only tell it where the resistance is.”

The guard hesitated.

Then lowered his bow.

The black shape crossed out from above the ridge.

For the first time, Raven could see wings.

Not flapping rapidly.

Gliding.

The span was enormous compared with the body beneath it.

The creature rode invisible currents that bent around its wings, and every correction sent a faint distortion rippling through the air.

Valeria stepped beside Raven.

”It’s using mana already.”

”I see it.”

The pressure increased as the creature approached.

Dust rolled across the courtyard in thin spirals.

The surface of the well water trembled.

A stack of loose roof tiles shifted with a dry scrape.

One of the horses screamed.

Then the creature passed between South Relay and the sun.

The entire courtyard darkened.

Not completely.

Just enough.

A moving shadow swept across the roof, swallowed the wagons, crossed Raven, and reached the opposite wall several heartbeats later.

People stopped moving.

Raven didn’t.

”Keep the wagons moving.”

That broke the paralysis.

Workers started shouting again.

The creature banked.

The air beneath one wing compressed hard enough to send a gust across the relay.

A loose bucket skidded several meters.

The canvas over the medicine wagon tore free from one corner.

Now Raven could finally see what was above them.

Not a bird.

Not a true dragon.

Something built for the space between.

Its body was long and lean, roughly eight meters from snout to tail, with dark gray scales that shifted toward a muted blue around its joints. The hind legs were disproportionately powerful, ending in hooked claws large enough to close around a man’s torso.

Its forelimbs were fused into the wing structure like those of an enormous bat, except the bones were far thicker and the leading edges carried hardened scale ridges.

The head was narrow.

Predatory.

A row of backward-pointing horns ran along the jaw and skull, reducing drag rather than serving as ornament.

Its tail extended behind it like a counterweight, flexing slightly every time the creature changed direction.

And around the wings, the air refused to behave normally.

Mana streamed over the membranes in translucent layers, bending dust and sunlight alike.

The Wyvern barely needed to beat its wings.

It was letting magic carry part of its weight.

Raven felt FORGE react first.

[High-Density Aerial Mana Circulation Detected.]

[Vectorized Wind Flow Surrounding Target.]

[Projectile Deflection Probability: ELEVATED.]

Then Predation acquired enough biological data.

[Skygrave Wyvern.]

[Estimated Level: 39.]

[Existence Rank: ELITE.]

Raven’s jaw tightened.

Thirty-nine.

Ten levels above Valeria.

Twenty-eight above him.

The numbers mattered.

So did everything he had just watched.

This wasn’t a creature that happened to fly.

Its entire body had been built around aerial control.

Roland stared upward.

”That is definitely not a bird.”

”Excellent observation,” Raven said.

”Thank you.”

The Wyvern circled the relay once.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

It didn’t attack.

That almost made the pass worse.

The creature had enough altitude to stay beyond the effective range of every bow below, and it seemed perfectly aware of it.

One of the guards ignored Raven’s earlier order.

Maybe fear.

Maybe frustration.

He drew and released.

The arrow climbed.

For several seconds, it looked possible.

Then the shaft entered the distorted air around the Wyvern’s lower wing.

Its trajectory bent.

Not dramatically.

Just enough.

The arrow passed harmlessly behind the creature and fell away.

The Wyvern didn’t even flinch.

Valeria watched the failed shot.

”Wind Mantle.”

Raven glanced at her.

”A Skill?”

”Not necessarily a formal one. Some aerial creatures develop continuous mana circulation around the wings. It reduces drag, improves lift, and disrupts anything light entering the airflow.”

”Arrows.”

”At this distance? Almost certainly.”

The guard looked at his bow.

Then back at the creature.

”What are we supposed to do if it stays up there?”

Raven kept watching.

”That’s the problem.”

They could see it.

Everyone could.

It was directly above them, circling in open sky.

And nobody at South Relay could reach it.

Not the guards.

Not Roland.

Maybe Valeria, if the Wyvern descended enough and gave her time to form something substantial.

But at its current altitude, even her Blood Magic would lose too much force before reaching it.

Raven could think of exactly one weapon at South Relay designed to solve that problem.

The long case remained inside the main building.

He didn’t move toward it.

Not yet.

The Wyvern changed direction.

Its head tilted downward.

One dark eye settled on the corral.

Raven saw the shift in its body before anyone else reacted.

The wings narrowed.

The tail straightened.

Its altitude began to fall.

Not circling now.

Choosing.

”Move!” Raven shouted.

The Skygrave Wyvern folded its wings and dropped toward South Relay.