The forest had long since fallen silent, save for the ragged breaths of nine hunters standing in a semicircle around an enormous creature.

The beast before them was a monster out of nightmares—a hulking, eight-meter brute shaped like a boar, but with eight gleaming fangs jutting from its skull like ivory spears. Each tusk curved wickedly forward, ready to impale anything in its path. Mud clung to its hide, glistening under the dim gray light filtering through the dead canopy.

"Spread out! Don't stand in front of it!" Alec's voice cut through the heavy stillness.

He was the tallest among them, his black armor scuffed, his spear dark with old blood. His men moved instinctively at his command, forming a loose ring. The Octagonal Fang Beast snorted once, pawing at the earth with its massive hind legs. The ground trembled.

Alec's heart drummed against his ribs. He had seen what this thing could do to a man—one charge, and even iron plate was nothing but torn scrap.

The creature's head dropped low, tusks leveled like a forest of blades.

"Hold!" Alec shouted. "Wait for it—"

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The beast lunged.

"Scatter!"

The men dove aside, shouting, as the monster barreled forward. Its tusks tore through fallen trunks like paper, flinging splinters high into the air. The air filled with the smell of rot and the sharp tang of iron.

Alec stood his ground until the last possible moment, watching its trajectory, calculating the distance—ten meters… eight… five—then moved.

He twisted his body aside and thrust the spear in one fluid motion.

Steel met flesh.

The blade sank deep into the beast's neck, and for one blinding instant Alec thought he had it. Then came the full weight of its fury. The impact hurled him into the air like a rag doll. He hit the ground hard, rolled, and came up coughing, the taste of dirt in his mouth.

"Captain!"

His team rushed forward, spears and curved knives flashing. The wounded beast bellowed, blood spraying from its throat as it thrashed.

"Push in! Hit the joints!" Alec roared, forcing himself to his feet.

The hunters swarmed. One spear struck home just behind the shoulder, another slashed across its belly. The creature staggered, wheezing, and finally collapsed in a thunderous crash that shook the ground.

The world stilled again.

Alec stood over the corpse, chest heaving. Blood slicked his spear, hot and heavy. A grin broke across his dirt-streaked face.

"Ha! Finally—a real hunt!"

He planted his spear into the ground and patted the beast's massive flank with grim satisfaction. After days of watching Lord Luciel's tamed creatures do all the killing, it felt good to earn a victory with his own hands.

But before the team could even celebrate, a sharp crack echoed through the forest.

The men froze.

A tree trunk split cleanly in half a few paces away. Something was moving through the woods—fast.

Out from the shadows came a creature the size of a wagon, scales glinting in three hues—emerald, bronze, and slate. A tri-colored lizard lumbered into view, dragging behind it another dead Octagonal Fang Beast, its carcass bound in threads of white silk.

Alec groaned inwardly. He didn't even need to guess.

The Lord's beast had beaten them to it—again.

The lizard dropped its prize beside their kill with a heavy thud, blinking its reptilian eyes as though mildly bored.

"Well," Alec muttered dryly, "seems the city lord's pet doesn't like being outdone."

His men exchanged glances, their brief pride dissolving into sheepish silence. The Lord's domesticated monsters could do in minutes what it took nine trained hunters half an hour to accomplish.

"Enough standing around," Alec barked, forcing a laugh. "We've got our own catch to haul. Move it!"

They hefted the dead beast onto their shoulders, groaning under its sheer weight, and began the long trek back toward the city. Alec took point, eyes sweeping the darkened woods.

Half an hour later, they emerged from the twisted forest—and stopped dead.

Before them, piled high like a grotesque mountain, lay more than a dozen Octagonal Fang Beasts. Their tusks jutted at odd angles, their gray hides glistening with drying blood. Nearby, a dozen smaller ones squirmed helplessly on the ground, bound tight in web-like silk.

It was a slaughter.

And in the center of it all stood Luciel, calm as ever, his expression unreadable.

He turned at their approach, his cloak stirring faintly in the breeze. "Since you're here," he said lightly, "bring yours over."

Alec swallowed hard, nodded, and motioned for his team to pile their kill with the rest.

Luciel surveyed the heap, expression thoughtful, then looked to Zanyan—one of Alec's lieutenants—who stood pale and silent at his side.

"Today's hunt is finished," Luciel said. "Let's head back."

He raised one hand, and the earth itself rippled beneath their feet. The mound of carcasses shifted forward as though pushed by invisible hands, gliding along the trembling ground.

The soldiers followed, silent and awestruck. Alec leaned closer to Zanyan. "Those beasts… he caught all of them himself?"

Zanyan nodded stiffly. His eyes still held the echo of fear. "I saw it. He shot silk from his hand—thin as a thread, faster than light. It pierced through their skulls one after another. They didn't even have time to scream."

Alec glanced at the moving corpses and shivered. Against such power, even an army would fall like grass before a storm.

---

By the time they reached the edge of the forest, Luciel's two companions—Elara and Alina—had appeared, running to keep pace. Luciel, on the other hand, seemed barely to walk. The ground beneath his boots rose and carried him forward in a smooth, gliding motion, like a current of living stone.

"I want to try that," Alina murmured, eyes wide with envy as she watched the shifting path.

"Careful," Elara warned quietly. "You'll fall on your face before you move an inch."

Luciel's mouth twitched at their exchange, though he said nothing. Within minutes, they reached the towering stone gate of the Rock Tortoise—Heaven's Gate.

He gestured once, and the gate sealed itself with a resonant boom. The air shimmered as he raised a stone platform beneath them, lifting the entire group up the shell's massive slope toward the city above.

Below, the beasts' carcasses followed, sliding across the ground in perfect formation.

Luciel glanced back at the hunters. "Tell me," he said casually, "what do these Octagonal Fang Beasts feed on?"

The question caught Alec off guard. "Feed on?" he repeated.

"Yes. They're herbivores by design, yet they thrive even here, where no green thing grows. How do they survive?"

Alec exchanged a nervous glance with Zanyan, then cleared his throat. "They… feed on the droppings of other beasts, my lord."

Luciel blinked. "Feces?"

"Yes. They scavenge what the larger creatures leave behind."

Luciel frowned. "And there are so many of them? There must be a vast source then, something constant."

Zanyan stepped forward, his tone low. "There's only one thing that could sustain them in such numbers—a wild Ancient Beast. When one of those giants settles nearby, its leavings draw entire herds of scavengers."

Luciel tilted his head, intrigued. "An Ancient Beast, hm? Then what does it eat?"

No one answered.

The silence stretched. Even the wind seemed to pause, as if uncertain.

Alec stared at his boots. "No one knows, my lord," he said finally. "We've never seen one feed."

Luciel looked thoughtful. The logic bothered him. Creatures that size couldn't simply exist without a food source.

"Could they be feeding off energy directly?" he murmured. "Like… parasitic symbiosis?"

Elara and Alina exchanged a look but said nothing.

Alina finally broke the quiet. "I've read something in an old travel journal," she said, hesitant. "It suggested the Ancient Beasts might go months—or even years—without eating. Some say they survive through a kind of symbiotic bond."

Luciel turned toward her. "Explain."

She bit her lip. "The theory says each Ancient Beast carries within it a living organism—a plant, or something like it—that feeds on the beast's blood and waste. In turn, when the beast grows weak, it consumes part of that symbiont to recover."

Luciel's eyes narrowed. "That can't be stable. The energy loss would kill them both eventually."

"Unless…" Alina hesitated, "something else provides the energy."

He gave a faint smile. "Now that would be worth discovering."

The platform rose higher, the air cooler, the city now visible in the distance—Black Tortoise City, gleaming with its network of carved terraces and glowing runes.

Luciel exhaled and pushed aside his curiosity for now. "Enough speculation. There'll be time to study it later."

The platform docked at the city wall. Below, the corpses of the Octagonal Fang Beasts slid neatly into piles.

Luciel turned to his men. "Alec, Zanyan—sort the carcasses. Send half to the cold-storage gate for preservation."

He glanced upward, his eyes unfocusing briefly. "White Snake has been notified to collect the meat."

"Yes, my lord." Both men bowed.

Luciel pointed toward the bound young beasts wriggling nearby. "Take the small ones to the farmlands. Raise them in captivity. I want to see how they develop under care."

"Yes." Alec motioned to his hunters, who immediately began unbinding the squirming juveniles.

Finally, Luciel nodded toward the heap of discarded tusks glinting in the fading light. "Collect those and deliver them to the City Lord's manor. I want the craftsmen to test them—see if they're fit for weapons. The city's soldiers are still wielding scrap iron."

"As you command," said Zanyan.

Luciel watched them move with efficient precision, his gaze distant. Beyond the tasks, beyond the trophies of the hunt, his thoughts lingered on a single question—the one that had begun to gnaw at him more than curiosity should allow.

What sustains the Ancient Beasts?

He looked toward the horizon, where the dying sun cast the clouds in shades of rust and gold.

Somewhere beneath that dim sky, hidden beneath the roots of the world, something immense was feeding—and everything above it was merely living off its scraps.

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