CH364 Call of Wild & Beast Totem

***

As agreed, the Agoge Master brought Alex's chosen candidates to the Enclave's main tower.

They were permitted entry into the tower's grounds after a guard informed Alex of their arrival.

Just like the previous day, Alex was accompanied by the Mad Earl himself. However, since it was broad daylight this time, Earl Drake decided to make a few… adjustments.

Using his Legendary privilege, he subtly altered his appearance and physique, even changing his characteristic silver-grey hair and crimson eyes. His hair turned jet black, while his eyes became a deep brown.

"You still haven't taught me the Body Manipulation Technique," Alex remarked as they walked.

Drake didn't respond—he simply kept moving until they arrived at the sparring arena.

The Agoge Master greeted Drake with due solemnity before turning to Alex with his usual enthusiasm.

Alex acknowledged him with a nod, then shifted his focus to the four candidates standing before him.

"Today isn't a test," Alex began. "Think of it more as a showcase of your abilities and fighting styles. If you're going to be working for me—and fighting by my side—I need to understand what you can do so I can make the best use of your strengths."

"Very good. My babies have been craving some action," said Kavakan, the Weretiger clansman.

At his waist hung twin broadhead one-handed axes. Their razor edges gleamed dangerously, exuding an aura of dread and violence.

Alex's gaze moved to the next candidate.

The barbarian, Mogal, looked much the same as the day before—except for the fresh bandages wrapped tightly around his fists.

'A pugilist?' Alex wondered.

Next was Havel, the black-haired elf, who carried a slender blade at his side that looked strikingly similar to a katana.

Alex raised a brow at the sight, but then remembered he'd already encountered many weapons in this world that resembled those from Earth.

After all, Kurt's double-hilted greatsword was practically identical to a Zweihander. It shouldn't come as too much of a surprise that a katana-like weapon existed here as well.

Finally, his attention fell upon the only human—and the only woman—among them. Silver was dressed in a hunter's garb, her posture elegant yet taut with focus. A quiver of arrows hung neatly at her waist, and a recurve bow was strapped across her shoulders.

Alex studied them all for a moment.

Initially, he had—perhaps impulsively—intended to spar with each of them himself. But after some thought, he decided against it.

If Alex truly wanted to understand the strengths and weaknesses of his new followers, then he needed to watch them fight—from an observer's perspective.

He gathered a few sticks and wooden splinters left behind from earlier spars and fashioned them into lots.

"You'll be sparring against each other based on your drawn lots," he announced.

When the results came out, Kavakan was paired against Mogal, while Silver would face Havel.

The Agoge Master frowned the moment he saw the pairings. His lips parted as if to protest, but he eventually thought better of it and kept silent.

Everyone stepped aside to clear the arena. Unlike Alex, who stood at the edge of the ring with folded arms, Drake and the Agoge Master took their seats to observe. Havel and Silver, however, seemed to have their minds elsewhere.

Silver's sharp eyes scanned the vegetation surrounding three sides of the arena—evaluating cover, terrain, and line of sight. Meanwhile, Havel was lying flat on his back, staring lazily at the drifting clouds and the birds flying overhead, as though none of this concerned him in the slightest.

"Begin!"

Roar!

A feral roar burst from Kavakan's throat as he charged headlong at Mogal.

"Take my axe!" he laughed, wild and unrestrained.

Mogal didn't respond. He simply shifted into a solid fighting stance, his breathing even, waiting for the incoming strike.

Kavakan's grin widened. He stomped once, hard—the ground cracking beneath his foot—and exploded forward with beast-like momentum, twin axes swinging down in a brutal arc.

Mogal dodged the first strike by a hair's breadth, then parried the second with a sharp deflection to Kavakan's wrist.

The clash quickly devolved into a whirlwind of motion—axes flashing and fists flying. Kavakan's assault came in fierce, explosive bursts, while Mogal met him with calm precision, defending each blow with effortless composure and countering whenever the opportunity presented itself.

'Both of them have completely opposite styles,' Alex mused. 'One fights like an excitable hunter while the other, a patient predator.'

Thanks to the Barbarian race's innate resilience—and the Dravo clan's brutal cultivation method—Mogal could stand toe-to-toe with Kavakan in pure physical might.

The Weretiger's explosive strength was being met, strike for strike, by the barbarian's raw endurance and technique.

Roar!

Kavakan let out another thunderous roar, his excitement rising at the thrill of facing an equal.

His skin took on a faint reddish tint.

'Is that… "Call of the Wild"?' Alex wondered.

Though Lycanthropes maintained humanoid forms, they were far more akin to beasts than men.

Unlike humans, who possessed specialised mana channels to circulate energy through their bodies, Lycanthropes evolved differently. They channelled energy through their blood, much like beasts.

Call of the Wild was a unique combat technique exclusive to Lycanthropes—an art that deliberately heightened their heart rate to superhuman levels, accelerating the flow of blood and, by extension, energy throughout their bodies.

Kavakan's speed and power began to climb steadily. Each swing of his axe carried more weight, more ferocity, and his explosive attacks grew increasingly difficult to withstand.

It was only then Alex noticed, to his quiet astonishment, that Mogal hadn't moved more than a foot from his original stance. From the start of the duel until now, the Barbarian had fought within the narrow circumference of an imaginary circle drawn around his feet.

That was no small feat.

Boom!

A concussive blast rippled through the air as Kavakan came crashing down with both axes. Dust and dirt billowed, briefly obscuring the view. When it cleared, the sight that greeted them drew several gasps.

Mogal had stopped both axes—barehanded.

Like the Lycanthropes, Barbarians were a far cry from ordinary humans.

Unlike human warriors who trained by absorbing ambient mana into their bodies, Barbarians were incapable of doing so. Instead, they drew their energy from what they consumed—namely, the flesh of the magical beasts and monsters they hunted.

This crude yet instinctive method exposed them to the beasts' violent, berserk mana. To normal humans, that chaotic energy would be fatal. But to Barbarians, it was fuel.

They used that savage energy to temper their muscles, bones, and blood, forcing their bodies to evolve into living weapons.

Mogal was a prime example. Even when idle, he never relented on training his body through rigorous physical exercise regimen.

At this stage, his physique was no different from a blade and shield forged in one form.

But the Barbarian way didn't end there.

At certain stages in their cultivation, they could assimilate and store the traits of the beasts they had devoured—an ancestral inheritance known as the Beast Totem.

Behind Mogal's back—visible only through Alex's Spirit Sight—loomed the spectral outline of a massive bear.

Though he couldn't identify the exact species, Alex determined that Mogal's Beast Totem was that of a strength-type bear.

Unsurprisingly, Mogal's physical might surged to match Kavakan's empowered ferocity.

Though the Weretiger's final strike forced him a step back, Mogal emerged from the clash completely unharmed.

**(14/70)**

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