The borderlands of Rugarda Forest did not resemble anything a sane cartographer would mark on a map.

Here, the towering ancient trees curved unnaturally, their bark scarred with claw marks large enough to bisect an ox.

The ground trembled occasionally—soft, rhythmic pulses—as if something enormous breathed beneath the soil.

And scattered across these woods were cages.

Iron cages.

Some were suspended from trees like grotesque ornaments.

Some were embedded in the ground like traps.

Some were arranged in pits where the stench of blood never fully faded.

And inside them were humans.

Half-starved, bruised, terrified humans.

They were not prisoners of war.

They were not laborers.

They were livestock.

Because, unlike Veldera City, a region where demihumans suffered under human rule, here, the balance flipped.

Here, beasts ruled.

Here, the humans were the ones who hid their ears.

The ones who trembled.

The ones who prayed.

They all wondered if they were suffering for trying to live because, just like the demihumans who lived in this forest, these humans were refugees who had no place in the human domain.

They were either outcasts, escapees, or criminals.

Here, however, they were nothing.

No, not nothing. They were food.

And the ones who ate them—high-ranking beasts, monstrous and intelligent—all followed a single existence: The Dire Sovereign Beast of Rugarda.

A titan among titans.

A king among nightmares.

And every creature here mimicked his habits.

Some beasts made the humans fight one another for entertainment—blood sport in crude arenas built from fallen logs, bones, and sharpened stakes.

Whoever won earned themselves more days to live, but no one got freedom because livestock didn't have rights.

However, not all beasts liked to see their food supply fight and kill each other, so they kept them as playthings, toys, or branded carriers of food.

Children were absent because no human wanted to have a child in this hell.

Adults died fast, as they were the ones who had to endure everything.

Hope had no place here.

Here, one could see that humans weren't the only ones who were cruel.

It was a village—only in shape.

In function, it was a kingdom carved by fear.

At the absolute center stood the largest clearing, illuminated by faintly glowing fungi and the embers of enormous fire pits.

And at its heart—

He lay there.

The Dire Sovereign Beast.

A ten-meter-tall monstrosity of fur like black iron, muscles warped with natural armor, and eyes like molten amber.

When he exhaled, the plants in the surroundings bent. When he shifted, the earth groaned.

Today, he rested—massive chin on his front paw, tail twitching lazily like an apex predator bored by peace.

Before him, a demihuman bowed—clothed in the decorated armor of the Beast Empire's border scouts. Wolf tail lowered in respect.

"My lord Dire Sovereign," the wolf-kin said, sweat trickling despite the cold air. "I bring news about the human kingdom on the other end of your forest."

A low rumble answered him.

Not annoyance.

Interest.

Seeing that, the wolf-kin continued. "Our spies in the kingdom had found an interesting piece of news that might be good for both you and our Empire."

The Dire Sovereign's heavy eyelids remained half-closed, but the air thickened—his patience thinning.

The scout added quickly, "There is word—a confirmed message from our informants."

He knelt lower. "A human A-ranker has entered the forest."

The Dire Sovereign finally opened his eyes fully.

Glowing amber with cold hunger.

The wolf-kin swallowed hard before continuing.

"He is the son of one of the strongest men on the human side of the continent. If it is true, then the humans may be breaking the treaty. But we cannot act without proof…"

The wind shifted, and the branches creaked.

"So we request—" the wolf-kin bowed so low his forehead hit the dirt "—that you capture him. Dead or alive. If we send our people, humans will twist the narrative for their benefit. But if you move… no one will know."

The Dire Sovereign stared for a long moment.

Then the rumble returned—deeper this time.

It was a signal saying, 'Permission granted.'

The demihuman exhaled shakily, bowing thrice before retreating backwards, never showing his back until he was far enough away to sprint.

Once the forest swallowed him, silence washed over the clearing again.

A heavy silence.

Hungry silence.

Then—

"Human."

The Dire Sovereign's voice rumbled like a collapsing mountain.

From behind a large bone cage, a ragged human male stepped out.

Thin. Pale. Bruised. But smiling.

Always smiling.

His lip bled. His ribs were visible. One eye was swollen shut. But the smile remained—a soft, broken curve.

"As your food bringer, I am here, my lord," the man said, bowing deeply despite shaking limbs.

The Dire Sovereign regarded him with mild amusement.

"Bring fresh humans," he rumbled. "Females. They have tender meat."

For a second, the smile on the human's face froze, but then he closed his eyes, muttering something like, "What is written would always happen. I can't change anything."

When his eyes opened, they were gentle like always.

The human bowed. "As you wish, my lord."

The beast's tail twitched, entertained by the unbroken submission.

"Go quickly." A low growl followed. "I am hungry."

"As you desire."

The slave turned, sprinting toward the cages with a serenity that did not belong in this place—like a man who had already left his body long ago.

The Dore Sovereign kept staring at the man, wondering just how much longer it would take for that human to break, as he never said no to anything.

From the day he was captured, he had been doing whatever he was told to.

Even if you were to beat him to the point of death, he would smile, even if his eyes were crying.

It was as if he thought that if he passed these moments, he would be free.

The Dire Sovereign could see hope in his eyes—the same light he had seen in the eyes of many other humans that had served him before.

In the end, they all broke before getting eaten by him.

How long will this one last? That was a question he wanted answers to.

Still, the Dire Sovereign didn't think much about it and closed his eyes again, preparing to feast before his impending hunt.

Some kilometers away from him, the air shimmered—unseen, unnoticed.

Then, four figures teleported across reality toward this forsaken land.

..........................

Space rippled—once, twice—before folding in on itself like a curtain being pulled aside.

A heartbeat later, Kael, Evethra, Lyratheia, and Selene stepped out of a distortion and into a part of the Rugarda Forest that no map had ever dared mark.

The air here was colder.

Thicker.

It clung to the skin like a damp cloth and hummed faintly with the scent of iron and old suffering.

Kael took one glance around and exhaled softly.

"…A few kilometers off," he muttered, adjusting his coat with that lazy elegance only he could make look deliberate. "Guess aiming for the exact point was too much to hope for."

After all, he wasn't given the exact coordinates.

Evethra stood immediately at his side, posture straight, eyes scanning every direction. The vampire maid's presence sharpened the air.

"My lord," she said quietly, "the ambient mana is distorted. Something oppressive lingers here."

"It's alright," Kael replied, almost breezy. "We'll walk."

But Lyratheia took a step ahead of them—her movements small, composed, and polite as always. Her tone remained soft but carried a gravity that pulled even Kael's attention.

"…I know the path," she said, hands folded before her. "My sensing magic picked up the beacon of suffering from very far away. It… was not subtle."

Selene tilted her head, golden eyes gleaming faintly in the dim forest's light.

"It smells wrong," she murmured, her voice distant. "Like echoes of futures that never should have been."

Kael raised a brow. "That bad?"

Lyratheia hesitated.

Then she turned slightly, addressing both girls—but especially Selene, who seemed to always wander toward the truths that hurt most.

"…Please brace yourselves," she said gently. "What we are about to see is not pleasant. Not in the slightest."

Her voice did not break.

But something in it dimmed.

Even Kael paused, his expression losing a degree of its usual lazy confidence.

Evethra frowned, golden eyes narrowing. "Is it a massacre?"

"…Worse." Lyratheia's gaze lowered. "It is… cruelty practiced as routine."

A brief silence settled. Wind rustled the leaves in a way that sounded disturbingly like whispers.

Kael slipped his hands into his pockets. "Well. Lead the way."

She nodded and began walking. Her steps were careful, almost ceremonial.

Not because she feared what was ahead—Lyratheia was rarely shaken—but because she understood the weight of what she was guiding them toward.

After all, she herself knew the value of human life because in her city, both humans and demihumans lived together.

Selene drifted beside her, barefoot steps silent, expression unreadable.

"Lyratheia," she whispered, "Are you familiar with this place?"

"…Only partially," Lyra answered, voice soft. "I've been to the border, but even from there, the despair was unmistakable."

Kael hummed lightly behind them. "Sounds like a party."

Evethra elbowed him—politely, for her. "My lord… now is not the time."

He smirked but didn't argue.

As they walked deeper, the forest shifted subtly—light fading, sounds thinning, the air growing unnaturally still.

Then—

A faint metallic creak echoed somewhere ahead.

Followed by a weak, trembling cry.

Lyratheia stopped at once.

"…We are close," she whispered.

And the others felt it too.

The despair.

The fear.

The wrongness.

A kingdom built on suffering lay just beyond the trees.

And Kael's arrival would change everything.

Not just in the village, but also for those who were secretly controlling this village with their subservient words.

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.