Once, Leinart was a land of glory and honor—one of the kingdom’s greatest territories, where warriors from all corners of the realm gathered to test their strength in the grand arena.


    It was a place where knights, mercenaries, and adventurers sought fame, where battles were fought not for bloodshed but for honor.


    The roars of the crowd, the clashing of steel, and the songs of victory once defined this city.


    But that golden age was gone.


    Ever since the Demon King’s conquest, Leinart had been twisted beyond recognition.


    The proud city had been renamed Beastwell, and its streets no longer echoed with the cheers of spectators.


    Now, they pulsed with the guttural growls and savage howls of beastmen.


    The once-glorious arena, where champions were crowned, had become a wretched coliseum soaked in blood and despair.


    No longer was it a place where warriors tested their mettle.


    Now, it was a pit of torment where humans, elves, dwarves, and orcs were forced to fight—not for honor, but for the twisted amusement of their new overlords.


    They were no longer warriors.


    They were slaughtered like animals.


    The noble lords and fair maidens who once filled the arena’s seats had been replaced by jeering beastmen, their claws clicking against rusted metal cups as they placed bets on which unfortunate soul would die first.


    The air reeked of sweat, blood, and the sickening scent of rotten meat.


    Beneath the arena, in the dark, suffocating depths, the once-prestigious warrior chambers had been turned into a nightmarish dungeon.


    Chains clanked in the darkness.


    The moans of the wounded and dying blended with the distant roars of the beastmen above.


    Despair lingered like a thick fog, pressing against the minds of those trapped inside.


    And at the center of it all, ruling over Beastwell with an iron claw, was Korran, the tigerkin warlord.


    Korran was cruel.


    His rule was absolute, his judgment swift and merciless.


    Any who dared to challenge him were crushed without hesitation.


    To the beastmen, he was a mighty king, a protector who had given them a home, a ruler who demanded loyalty but offered strength in return.


    To everyone else, he was a tyrant.


    Under his command, Beastwell had grown into a fortress of beastmen supremacy.


    He used human ingenuity and dwarven craftsmanship to expand his domain, forcing prisoners to build his empire even as they wasted away under his watchful gaze.


    He was death, wrapped in fur and sinew.


    In his human form, he moved with terrifying grace, his claws striking faster than a man could blink.


    His enemies barely had time to scream before he silenced them.


    But when he shed his human skin, taking on his full beast form, he became a force of nature—towering, monstrous, capable of tearing soldiers apart with nothing but raw, unrelenting strength.


    And beneath him, serving as his most trusted warriors, were five beasts—each a nightmare in their own right:


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    Morales, the wolfkin – A master of shadows, slipping through the darkness to gather secrets and strike unseen.


    Borris, the bearkin – A walking wall of muscle, capable of reducing stone and steel to rubble with a single blow.


    Kelly, the foxkin – A cunning sorceress, weaving illusions and fire to burn her enemies to nothing.


    Kevin, the monkeykin – Unpredictable, chaotic, fighting with an acrobat’s speed and a madman’s cunning.


    Talon, the eaglekin – A predator of the skies, his spear finding hearts before his enemies even knew he was there.


    And beyond them, an army of beastmen stood ready to tear apart anything that threatened their dominion.


    Deep within the forest outside Beastwell, a small group of warriors stood in a tense circle.


    The towering trees swayed gently in the morning breeze, their whispers doing little to ease the tension that gripped the gathering.


    Asael stood at the center, his expression grim.


    His hand rested on the hilt of his blade, but he did not draw it.


    There was no enemy before him—only the weight of what lay ahead.


    Steven had just finished speaking.


    His words hung in the air like a funeral toll.


    Silence followed.


    The mission pressed down on them, a suffocating weight that none could ignore.


    "It is not wise to fight him head-on," Steven finally said again, his voice quiet, yet firm.


    "Even if we manage to kill him, the beastmen won’t stop. They’ll hunt us to the ends of the earth."


    The others shifted uneasily. No one wanted to admit it, but they all knew he was right.


    To challenge Korran and his warriors in open battle was not courage.


    It was suicide.


    "We need more information," Asael muttered, his gaze fixed on the distant walls of Beastwell.


    From here, they could see only the large buildings in the city.


    But they knew.


    Somewhere in that cursed city, people were suffering.


    And time was slipping through their fingers like grains of sand.


    They had to act.


    But kenta focus was elsewhere.


    A ripple ran through him, a sudden stiffness in his posture.


    His eyes locked onto a trembling bush a few feet ahead, his breath hitching in his throat.


    His hand found the hilt of his dagger.


    Fingers curled around it with quiet intensity.


    “What is it?” Anne’s voice was barely above a whisper, but in the suffocating silence, it might as well have been a shout.


    Kenta’s heart pounded against his ribs. “Something’s there.”


    The bush quivered again, just slightly. Barely noticeable.


    But to Kenta, it might as well have been a drumbeat announcing danger.


    He took a cautious step forward, eyes narrowing, muscles coiled tight.


    Then—


    “PEEKABOO!”


    A blur of motion.


    A figure burst from the undergrowth, wild and sudden, like a specter given form.


    Kenta reeled back, his heart slamming against his ribs as his hand instinctively yanked his weapon free.


    The moment stretched, tension snapping tight before his eyes could process what he was seeing.


    A beastman.


    Not one of the towering, fearsome figures he had imagined, but a lean, nimble creature clad in a jester-like mask.


    His long tail flicked behind him with restless energy, and his entire body trembled—not with rage, but with amusement.


    A monkey.


    Laughter rang through the clearing, bright and sharp as shattered glass.


    “AHAHAHA! You got scared, little kid!”


    The beastman slapped his knee, doubled over with glee.


    Kenta clenched his jaw, heat rushing to his face.


    “Who are you?” he demanded, voice taut with frustration.


    The monkey straightened, his grin visible even beneath his mask.


    “My name is Kevin! The very same monkey you were whispering about!”


    The moment his name left his lips, steel hissed through the air.


    Steven’s sword glinted under the pale moonlight, its tip aimed directly at Kevin’s throat.


    The amusement in Kevin’s posture didn’t fade, but something sharpened behind his eyes, a flicker of calculation.


    Kevin raised his hands in mock surrender, his tail curling lazily behind him.


    “Whoa, whoa, easy there! No need to get all dramatic.” He wiggled his fingers in a ridiculous manner, striking an exaggerated pose. “Seriously, put that sword away before you hurt yourself.”


    Asael’s gaze darkened. “Then why are you here?”


    Kevin smirked, tilting his head. “I’m here to invite you to Beastwell. By Lord Korran’s orders.”


    Silence fell, thick and suffocating.


    The kind of silence that followed a revelation that no one wanted to acknowledge.


    An invitation.


    Asael’s stomach twisted.


    He didn’t need to say it out loud.


    He didn’t need to glance at his companions to know they were thinking the same thing.


    It was a trap.


    Steven’s grip on his sword tightened. “So what?” His voice was cold, unforgiving. “If we kill you now, that’s one less problem to deal with.”


    Kevin let out a mock gasp. “Oh, you’re absolutely right!” He clapped his hands together as if genuinely delighted by the idea. “But…”


    His eyes gleamed as he lifted a single finger, pointing toward the sky.


    “He won’t let that happen.”


    Everyone looked up.


    The sky cloud twisted, shapes forming where before there had been nothing.


    And then, they saw them.


    Dozens of shadowy figures gliding soundlessly above, hidden by the thick canopy.


    Wings stretched wide, claws curled, silent predators lurking in the darkness.


    A gust of wind stirred the air.


    Then, with a heavy thud, something massive landed in front of them.


    Dust curled around his towering frame as he straightened, his wings folding against his back like a dark mantle.


    His talons flexed against the earth, carving deep grooves into the soil.


    A beastman.


    Not just any beastman—


    Talon.


    He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.


    The raw menace that rolled off him was enough.


    His piercing gaze, sharp as a hawk’s, locked onto them, measuring, weighing.


    The scars crisscrossing his muscular form told stories of bloodshed and survival.


    The forest rippled with movement.


    Shadows detached from the trees, stepping forward.


    Dozens of beastmen emerged, their eyes glinting with hunger and something worse—certainty.


    They had been surrounded from the start.


    Kevin stretched, cracking his neck. “So, where were we?” His voice was light, but beneath it lurked something razor-edged. “Oh right, the part where you were going to kill me.”


    Talon took a single step forward.


    The ground beneath his claws sank.


    His gaze locked onto Steven, unblinking.


    Predatory.


    His body coiled, like a spring wound too tight, moments from release.


    Steven’s knuckles whitened around his sword.


    The tension was suffocating.


    Asael could feel it pressing down on them, heavy and unrelenting. If they fought now…


    They would all die.


    Kevin sighed dramatically. “Stop it, Talon! We need them alive!”


    For a moment, Talon didn’t move.


    His piercing stare never wavered, as though testing them, judging their worth.


    Then, with the slow deliberation of a beast conceding to a leash, he stepped back.


    The killing intent in the air lingered like smoke, but the immediate threat had passed.


    Kevin clapped his hands.


    “Whew! That was close! I thought we were about to have an unfortunate little massacre.” Then he turned, all easygoing charm, toward Asael. “So what do you say now?”


    Asael exhaled slowly, his mind racing.


    The pieces were falling into place, and none of them were in their favor.


    But if they played this right…


    If they bided their time…


    Maybe they could turn the board.


    “Fine.”


    His voice was calm. But inside, he was already planning.


    Kevin grinned wide, eyes glinting like a fox who had just cornered its prey.


    “That''s the spirit! Welcome to Beastwell, my dear guests.”