Khepri stood tall above the shattered remnants of the Estate, the air around him still thick with mana that refused to settle. Bodies were being carried, d-bots hovered past unconscious figures, and distant alarms echoed like fading thunder. But Khepri heard none of it—not truly.
His eyes were locked on the boy.
That piercing yellow gaze. That calm, emotionless face. That eerie detachnt as he sat atop the colossal tigress as though he were the eye of the storm, untouched by the chaos around him.
Thunder Clan.
Khepri didn’t need confirmation. He knew. That clan’s bloodline carried an unmistakable arrogance—born not from pride, but from conviction, as if the world beneath them existed rely as a stage for their will.
But this boy...
His face.
His hair.
His presence.
He was supposed to be dead.
The very reason why war had erupted between the Higher Clan and the Thunder Clan. The catalyst behind one of the most brutal, costly campaigns in recent mory.
The one they claid was gone.
The one they claid never existed.
The one they couldn’t find after everything burned.
Lie Yan had ordered it himself. No survivors. Not from that bloodline.
So why—how—was the boy here?
Alive, whole, and unbroken.
His face remained a mask of calm, unflinching and silent as he looked down at Khepri without hate, without fear, without anything.
It was almost inhuman.
And that, more than anything else, unnerved him.
Though Khepri’s face remained composed, like stone carved by eons of patience, his mind was a storm—violent, and growing.
This can’t be real...
They had buried the Thunder Clan in history.
Yet the ghost of that clan now stood before him—alive and breathing.
And then there was the tigress.
White as moonlight, laced with black lightning that pulsed with divine defiance. Her gaze was not curious. It was condescending. Judgntal. She looked at him as if he were lesser.
And he realized the truth.
They were the cause of the beast tide.
The signs aligned too perfectly, the precision, the escalation, and the unnatural movent of millions of magical beasts.
This beast—this being—no, they had fought the Thunder wolf knowing that a battle between them would cause a beast tide.
Rage twisted in his chest, the urge to annihilate them building with every heartbeat. His fingers trembled, knuckles white as his control slipped by threads.
I should destroy him.
I should rip this beast apart and bury it with it.
But he didn’t move.
Because he knew what would happen.
He could feel it.
The weight in the air, the fragility of the silence, and the sword’s edge, this entire mont balanced upon.
Any attack now would result in one thing only: death. Not one of them.
But of his people.
Then, sothing else shifted.
He felt it before anyone. An invisible snap across the ether.
Silence.
Not just a lack of noise. A true silence. The kind that ca when spells failed to hum. When the runes refused to answer. When mana channels fell dead.
No...
He inhaled sharply.
Then he noticed it
’A barrier just went up, and it seems to be targeting communication, ’ thought Khepri as he looked at the young man and the beast with a calm face but burning rage.
’Seems like they have been in my domain for quite a while for them to be able to implent sothing this grand to block all communications’
Khepri exhaled slowly, drawing his emotions back into the cold center of his mind. The rage had burned hot—but now, it simred in the background, buried beneath layers of calculation and instinct. This was no longer a ti for impulsive violence.
Not yet.
His eyes remained locked on the boy and the beast, standing still as if this destruction wasn’t their doing. As if the lives scattered across the estate—the ruin, the bodies, the screams—were just a backdrop to sothing larger. And for the first ti since arriving, Khepri looked closer.
He’s only... Grandmaster rank.
Khepri’s brow subtly twitched. How had he missed it?
Amidst the intensity of the mont, he’d overlooked the simplest detail. The boy’s mana signature wasn’t cloaked or disguised—it pulsed out plainly, clean and refined. But it didn’t carry the storm of a Legend rank warrior. Not even close.
He turned his attention to the tigress once again—that beast—towering like a deity in white fur and stormlight. She did not stand behind the boy.
She stood with him.
And she listened.
Khepri had seen many powerful creatures in his ti. He had hunted them, killed. He understood what it ant to ta a beast—force it into obedience, break its will, suppress its pride until it bowed. But what he saw now... was different.
This wasn’t taming like how the beast tars ta their beasts.
This was sothing else.
A bond.
Khepri narrowed his eyes.
Bonding with a beast was rare. As most beast tars use force to ta most beasts under them, especially among powerful creatures, as beasts have their pride.
But bonding was different, it required not just compatibility—but acceptance. A willful decision on both sides to join their souls, to intertwine their mana.
And it had rules.
Which made most beasts hate bonding with humans
A beast could never bond with soone weaker than itself—not truly. Not in a way that allowed it to reach its full potential. A bonded beast’s power would always be limited by the strength of its master. Because in that bond, the beast follows the lead of the one it’s tied to.
A slave cannot surpass their master.
Yet this—this-this tigress—was far beyond the boy’s rank.
And she was obeying.
Without hesitation. Without pride. With a terrifying loyalty.
She’s not diminished.
She’s not shackled.
She’s stronger than anything I’ve seen—and she’s still growing.
Khepri felt his throat tighten slightly, a flicker of unease passing through even his iron composure.
So why is she following him?
Legend-rank beasts were not just powerful—they were proud. Ancient. Willful. They didn’t bow. They commanded.
So what kind of existence—what kind of will—did a Grandmaster have to possess to make a Legend-rank creature lower its head?
Even now, he saw it. The tigress stood poised, but not defensively, not reactively, and she hadn’t once moved to challenge him despite recognizing his strength.
She was waiting.
Calm.
Focused.
Not on him... but on the boy’s signal.
And the boy—Alex—was silent, emotionless, a void dressed in flesh. That face... it didn’t belong to a child. It didn’t even belong to a warrior.
It belonged to sothing carved—sothing shaped by a force deeper than vengeance.
Khepri clenched his fists behind his back.
What kind of monster did we create... by letting him live?
And more importantly...
What will he beco?
A sudden voice pierced through Khepri’s swirling thoughts, icy and devoid of emotion. "I think we’ve waited long enough, Khepri," it declared with a chilling finality. "Now, the mont has co for judgnt."
[A/N, just had to put this here as we tend to overlook sothing
At this point, there are several important concepts I would like to clarify; however, the timing isn’t quite right for that. In hindsight, I find myself wishing I had opted for a training arc instead of using flashbacks as a narrative device. Nonetheless, it’s not productive to dwell on past choices.
Rest assured, everything will be elaborated on in future Chapters. Moreover, I will be leaving the future to handle that issue.
Happy Reading!]
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