Chapter 687: Monarch of Beasts
The tiger’s body fell with a dull thud, warm blood dripping onto the newly rebuilt stone pavent.
The leader looked down in disbelief, his hand still gripping the reins as the animal’s body lay in agony.
Strax twirled a pebble between his fingers, indifferent. The golden glow in his eyes glinted in the morning light, reflecting a calm that only made the scene more terrifying.
“I thought it was funny,” he said with a short smile. “But now I want sothing in return for this joke. Take to your Monarch. I’d love to talk to him.”
For a mont, silence spread across the square like a thick fog.
But then the laughter began.
First a muffled sound, then louder—the hoarse laughter of the scarred warrior. Soon the others joined in, their laughter echoing like thunder between the buildings.
“Hahahaha!” The leader pounded his fist on his chest, leaning forward. “You… want to speak with the Beast Monarch?”
One of the mounted warriors stamped his foot on the tiger’s flank and took a few steps forward. “Did I hear you right? This worm thinks he can demand anything from us?”
Another roared. “This man’s scent doesn’t even have a hint of beast! He reeks of magic and arrogance!”
Strax just watched them, impassive.
The leader smiled disdainfully. “Listen, ‘king of the rebuilt town’… the Beast Monarch doesn’t speak to humans. He devours humans. He tears them to pieces and throws them to his children to eat.”
Kali chuckled softly, resting her chin on her hand. “And yet… here you are, slling fear.” She looked at the dead tiger. “One of them has already lost his breath.”
The nearest warrior spat on the ground. “Shut up, woman of bones.” If it weren’t for respect for females, I’d cut out your tongue.
Kali arched an eyebrow. “Oh, please… try.”
Her aura wavered for a mont—a cold chill ran through the street, and the ground beneath the warriors’ feet seed to grow darker, as if liquid shadows were beginning to erge from the cracks in the stone.
But Strax held up his hand. “Kali.”
She sighed. “Did I spoil the fun?”
“A little,” he replied, without taking his eyes off the warriors.
The warrior leader drew his spear, his savage gaze flashing. “You talk too much for a man who hides behind won!”
Strax looked at him, the gold in his eyes shining brighter. “Do I talk too much?”
Suddenly, the man blinked—and Strax was no longer there.
In an instant, a shadow ford before him. A barely perceptible movent, and sothing tinkled on the ground.
The spear he was holding fell, shattered in two.
The warrior looked at the destroyed weapon, then at Strax, who stood directly in front of his face, his hand still in the air.
“Now that you’ve finished insulting , you can keep breathing,” Strax said. “For now.”
The man swallowed hard, but his expression quickly twisted into fury. He took a step back and shouted, “Fire!”
Dozens of spears were thrown at once, whizzing through the air. Kali didn’t even move—she just crossed her arms, watching.
The spears never touched Strax. They all stopped half a ter away, suspended in midair, vibrating as if they had struck an invisible wall.
The warriors scread in confusion. Strax looked up, and with a simple snap of his fingers, the spears turned.
A tallic clang filled the air as they all returned—cutting through the wind and piercing the warriors who had thrown them. Blood spattered like crimson rain.
The square filled with the groans and roars of wounded tigers.
But the leader still stood, breathing heavily, his eyes wide with hatred.
“You… dare touch the Monarch’s sons?!” he roared, his voice piercing the air.
Strax stepped forward. “‘Sons’? I killed your soldiers, not an army. If the Monarch wants revenge, let him co.” His golden gaze glead. “And bring more than that.”
The warrior spat blood, but smiled—a broken smile, full of stained teeth. “He will co.
You don’t understand what you’ve done.
You killed the royal blood.”
Kali narrowed her eyes. “Royal blood?”
“The tiger you killed…” the man knelt, his body swaying, “was the Monarch’s cub.”
A collective murmur echoed among the survivors. The sound of distant footsteps began to fill the silence—rhythmic, heavy drums coming from the streets beyond the square.
Kali turned her face toward the sound. “Tsk… seems Daddy’s mad.”
Strax crossed her arms, indifferent. “Better. It gets more interesting.”
The warriors began to retreat, making way, and the air suddenly grew heavy—a pressure that made the ground vibrate, the stones creak, and even the birds flee the sky.
From the nearby streets, a colossal shadow lood.
And then he appeared.
The Monarch of Beasts.
Riding a three-headed tiger, his body covered in armor made of golden bones, his eyes burning like embers and an aura that seed to tear the space around him. His presence alone was suffocating, the sll of blood and pure mana filling the air.
When he spoke, his voice sounded like thunder and breaking rock.
“So… it was you.”
Strax looked him up and down, unresponsive. “And you must be the king of cats.”
The surrounding warriors roared in indignation. One of them shouted, “Insolent!”
The Monarch raised his hand, and silence fell instantly. He dismounted, each step making the ground tremble.
“Humans… always making the sa mistake. They think individual strength is power. They think they can play gods.”
Kali raised an eyebrow before letting out a laugh. “Humans… Hahaha!”
The Monarch’s gaze fell on her. “You’re beautiful. Get out of here, we don’t attack beautiful won.”
She gave a half smile. “Wow, man… you had every chance…”
The Monarch of Beasts held Kali’s gaze for a mont. Her laughter echoed, light, mocking, almost childish.
But sothing was wrong.
The air… changed.
Her laughter ended with a dry sound, the wind died, and for a brief mont, the silence seed absolute.
The Monarch frowned—his instincts roared. He knew that feeling.
The weight.
The density of the air.
The entire world began to bend, as if sothing invisible was pressing down on space itself.
The three-headed tiger he rode let out a low, agitated growl, its paws scraping the stone floor as if trying to flee. A shiver ran through the Monarch’s colossal body, and cold sweat began to break out beneath his golden armor.
Then he felt it.
That presence.
It was impossible.
It was ancient.
It was sothing he had felt only once in his entire existence—centuries ago, in a field of ruins covered in blood and fire.
The Demon Monarch.
The sa feeling. The sa pressure on his soul. The sa sensation that made every cell in his body want to kneel.
But no. This couldn’t be.
That being was dead—dead for eons, killed by his own kind.
And yet… the energy emanating from it now was identical.
Not just identical—greater.
Slowly, the Beast Monarch’s eyes turned to Strax.
And that was when he saw him.
The man was motionless.
His hands were loose at his sides.
His gaze was empty, as if there was nothing there—no emotion, no thought.
Only silence.
But the silence was more terrifying than any roar.
And then, he spoke.
“Beautiful?”
It was a whisper. Barely audible.
But Kali, standing nearby, felt a shiver run through her. She looked at him in surprise—the tone wasn’t anger. It was sothing worse.
Strax lifted his face, and the gold in his eyes vanished, replaced by a reddish glow, pulsing like live coals.
“Such a lowly being…” he began, each word vibrating like distant thunder. “…dares call my wife beautiful?”
The Beast Monarch instinctively took a step back.
And that was when he saw it.
Behind Strax, the air ripped apart.
Literally.
As if space itself had been cut in half.
From within the crevice, a colossal shadow projected itself—the outlines of a creature impossible to describe. Black scales, crimson flas, eyes the size of moons.
A dragon.
But no ordinary dragon.
There was sothing different about that aura. It didn’t just burn—it devoured.
The energy didn’t spread—it absorbed everything around it. Air, light, sound—everything was sucked into that monstrous form, as if the world were being swallowed.
The surrounding warriors began to fall to their knees without realizing it.
The tigers roared, writhing, trying to pull away, but their paws trembled so badly they could barely move.
Kali took a step back, panting. She had seen Strax furious before. She had seen his power in combat.
But this…
This was sothing else.
The ground cracked beneath his feet—fissures spreading in every direction, like veins pulsing with energy.
Every beat of Strax’s heart seed to echo throughout Kaelthur, reverberating in the walls, in the skies, in the souls of everyone alive.
The Beast Sovereign gritted his teeth, his body trembling with rage and fear at the sa ti.
He tried to speak, but his voice faltered. His throat tightened.
The roar of the creature behind Strax—that roar that ca not from lungs, but from the very essence of the world—silenced him completely.
The Dragon.
Black and red, colossal, rising like a shadow that touched the horizon.
Every movent made the ground tremble.
And, for an instant, the Monarch himself felt… that he was standing before sothing that shouldn’t exist.
A mory struck him.
Centuries ago.
Burning fields.
A sea of blood.
And a man—no, a monster—sitting on a pile of corpses, with eyes just like Strax’s.
The Demon Monarch, the strongest of the monarchs whom… the Celestial Emperor himself had slain.
“T-this… can’t be…” the Monarch whispered, more to himself than to the others. “How did you…”
Strax took a step forward.
And the dragon’s shadow moved with him.
“Tell .” His voice was calm, but each word made the air tremble. “Why haven’t you bowed and asked for forgiveness yet, huh?”
User Comments
0 comments from readers