"Is that really necessary?"
Samael clutched his swollen, dislocated wrist and sucked in a sharp breath, casting a resentful glance at Leonidas, who was off to the side massaging his muscles.
"General Leonidas wins again!"
The Uruk soldiers watching with craned necks bead with pride, sharing in the glory.
"Win my ass! That was overti!"
Leonidas grumbled from where he sat slumped on the ground, hands trembling slightly as he pressed them to the dirt, his chest rising and falling heavily.
Tabbad, the veteran tikeeper, gave a solemn nod, confirming the result of the match.
"So…"
Samael hesitated for a mont, clearly implying sothing.
"Spartans don't bother lying. If you want to learn how to throw a spear, co find anyti…"
Leonidas rolled his eyes, staggered to his feet, and spread his arms for a perfunctory hug with a certain troublemaker, marking the friendly end of the spar.
"What's the point of hanging around those won at the sacrificial grounds? Join the city guard—whatever you want to learn, I can teach you."
As they parted, the future Spartan king, who clearly valued Samael's physical talent, couldn't help muttering under his breath.
"Try saying that to Siduri's face."
Samael smirked and bumped fists with Leonidas, leaving the future Spartan king montarily speechless.
His equipnt, supplies, and even the malt beer he relied on to relax were all under the control of the Head Priestess.
If he didn't want to survive on dry rations, he had no choice but to grumble about that wicked woman behind her back.
As a Spartan, Leonidas understood very well—there were so won you just didn't cross.
His ancestor Heracles was a pri example of that painful truth.
Strong enough, famous enough—yet he still fell at the hands of two won.
One was Hera, the goddess infamous as the "killer of illegitimate children" and "terminator of lovers." The other was his second wife, who drove him to take his own life just to escape.
...
As Samael turned toward the convoy to escort the discarded weapons and Magical Beast corpses back for reporting, Leonidas suddenly noticed sothing.
That clearly dislocated right hand from earlier—was now perfectly fine.
Wait… sothing's off.
Sure, the kid lost more than he won—but thinking back, why did it seem like he only won the matches Leonidas had bet heavily on?
I didn't go easy on him…
The Guardian of the Hot Gates rubbed his chin, gradually realizing sothing wasn't right. He stared at Samael's retreating figure with growing suspicion.
Tch. That little bastard tricked .
Leonidas slowly ca to a realization, shaking his head and cursing under his breath with a wry smile.
At the sa ti, Samael, now escorting the supplies, sensed the shift in that gaze behind him and instantly knew it was ti to find a new scapegoat to fleece. A pang of regret flickered in his heart.
By the afternoon, the recovered equipnt had already been handed over to the forge for inspection and refinent.
With the exception of certain rare species or valuable Magical Beasts, most of the monster corpses were, as usual, dumped into a separate chamber in the sacrificial ground.
Tasks like skinning for armor, extracting bones and at, and harvesting poison sacs were all handled by professionals.
Naturally, these professional dissection teams included the highly skilled Samael.
As Tiamat's chosen, bearing the Authority of the Beast and the Spirit Origin of magical beasts, the ancient serpent found dissecting these pitiful creatures—barely kin—effortless.
Each day, dozens—sotis even hundreds—of Magical Beast corpses were dissected under his hands.
Thanks to the brave "sacrifices" of these unfortunate creatures, Samael had gained extensive knowledge of Magical Beast anatomy. At the sa ti, by continuously absorbing the faint remnants of life force lingering in their bodies, his Authority of the Beast steadily grew stronger.
Though the power offered by each individual beast was ager, the sheer quantity added up. Gradually, this accumulation activated three distinct Magical Beast Spirit Origin patterns within him.
This was the key reason behind the rapid growth of Samael's attributes during this period.
With these three patterns, he awakened seven racial talents belonging to the Eleven Offspring of Tiamat.
The "Mad Lion" Uridimmu granted him "Speed Boost" and "Beast Instinct."
The "Lion-headed Storm Demon" Ugallu provided "Wind Attribute Perception," "Minor Fire Resistance," and "Muscle and Bone Endurance."
The "Furious Serpent" Mušḫuššu awakened within him "Marsh Adaptation" and "Thick Hide."
In addition, through his resonance and communion with the goddess Tiamat, and his constant dismantling of Magical Beast remains, he awakened a second talent granted by the Mother of Genesis:
Monstrous Strength.
Unlike the fixed and minimal effects of the degraded Magical Beast racial talents, Monstrous Strength gave him a thod of evolving by constantly building up his physical power.
Much like "Self-Modification," it offered vast potential for growth.
Samael could absorb the residual blood essence from Magical Beast corpses to enhance his own strength.
Even with the current low conversion rate, it was still absurdly effective.
In just one month, without using divine power, his physical strength alone had already caught up to that of the mighty god's descendants.
Of course, if things got serious and they fought at full strength, he'd still get flattened.
Strictly speaking, during the mass-production of the Eleven Offspring using humans as raw materials, the Goddess of Demonic Beasts—after stealing Tiamat's divine power—only infused the beasts with re fragnts of that power.
Samael's work had always been about absorbing and reclaiming those tiny divine remnants.
While it might seem like he'd processed a thousand beasts by now, they were all heavily degraded over countless generations. Even when alive, the divine source within them was pitifully faint.
And after death? What little divine residue remained wasn't even enough to pick from between his teeth.
Leonidas, on the other hand, had divine power that was far purer and vastly stronger than Samael's cobbled-together hodgepodge.
Couple that with the disparity in battle experience and the reinforcent of descent rituals, and Samael still had a long way to go before he could challenge Leonidas head-on.
But while he lacked in divine blood and raw divine power, the Authority Tiamat had granted him—the "software" driving his self-evolution—was top-tier.
If he could survive the three sopotamian storms, Samael's potential growth would far surpass that of the mighty god's descendant.
Skinning... deboning... absorbing... transforming...
Samael endured the monotony, patiently repeating the process, extracting divine fragnts from heaps of blood-soaked remains like panning for gold.
Only when the sun dipped low and dusk approached did the ancient serpent finally put down his tools, untie his apron, and step out of the dissection chamber.
Hmm. Ti to go pick up Ana.
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