Starting Out As The God of Beasts

Standing in the dimly lit marble corridor outside the assembly hall, Roy turned his full body toward Duchess Alisa.

His golden-crimson flecked eyes held a cold, razor-sharp focus.

"Explain, Alisa," Roy commanded, his deep voice dropping into a dangerous register.

"What exactly did your cells report from the East?"

Alisa took a quiet, shuddering breath, her expression darkening with profound disgust.

"My Lord, the covert scout cells deployed into the Jura Eastern Continent—the mainland directly adjacent to our eastern border—have transmitted their first detailed intelligence summaries. The situation across the border is horrific."

She unrolled a small, blood-stained leather scroll, her fingers trembling slightly.

"In the border territory of Jura," Alisa revealed, "a human regional hub known as Kaelos City is actively orchestrating large-scale beastman hunting campaigns.

They treat our kind like wild game, capturing thousands of beastmen, placing iron suppression collars on them, and selling them directly into the hands of a local cultivation faction."

"A cultivation sect?" Roy’s brows furrowed.

"Yes," Alisa nodded bitterly. "They call themselves the Glorious Mythical Sect. On the surface, they preach righteousness and purity.

But behind closed doors, they practice an abhorrent, demonic branch of cultivation.

They do not merely enslave our people, my Lord... they forcibly tear out the mana cores of living beastmen to fuel their own cultivation stages, and they feast upon the flesh of our fallen brethren at their grand banquets."

A suffocating, icy silence fell over the corridor.

Alisa’s voice cracked with suppressed fury.

"Over five thousand beastmen—innocent families, children, and warriors—have already fallen prey to this sect.

Bounties have been posted across every city board in Kaelos. Human mercenary guilds are sweeping the wilderness, hunting down every beastman they can track for quick gold."

Roy’s gold-flecked eyes narrowed into dangerous, glowing slits.

The ambient mana around his crimson frame vibrated with a dark, violent impulse.

This was simply Norona City all over again, but executed on a far grander, more repulsive scale by human cultivators.

Roy was well aware of the deep-seated racial hierarchy of the mortal realm—humans routinely viewed beastmen as inferior, treating them as disposable labor or political tokens.

But this systematic butchery and ritual consumption breached every threshold of tolerance he possessed.

"Hypocrites call themselves ’Glorious’ while acting like rabid abominations," Roy spat, his clawed hand clenching into a tight fist until the air in his palm detonated with a sharp pop.

He took a slow, deliberate breath, forcing his rising divine aura back into check. Panic or rash emotion would not serve the kingdom.

"Alisa," Roy instructed firmly, looking down at his trusted Duchess. "Brief the members of the Supreme Assembly on this matter during tonight’s private security debriefing.

But make sure they remain calm. We cannot afford a chaotic, emotional mobilization right now."

He raised two clawed fingers, laying out his strategic priorities:

"The coronation of King Allan is our immediate, absolute priority. Varania must be fully crowned, structured, and politically stable before we project our power outside our borders.

Once the coronation is complete and the administrative machinery is secure, you, Duchess Eurenia, and I will personally venture into the Jura Eastern Continent to eradicate this threat and save our people."

Alisa’s eyes flashed with fierce, vengeful anticipation.

"Understood, my Lord!"

"Until then," Roy continued smoothly, "order your covert cells in Jura to operate in the shadows.

Have them rescue as many escaped beastmen as possible and shepherd them toward our secret border outposts.

But emphasize absolute discretion—they must not draw the attention of Kaelos City or alert the higher elders of the Glorious Mythical Sect."

Roy paused, considering the geography.

"What is the current status of our eastern borders leading directly into the Jura Eastern Continent?"

"All borders leading into the Varanial Region remain completely locked under high-tier spatial arrays," Alisa reported promptly. "No foreign entity can enter without divine authorization, though individuals are permitted to leave.

Every checkpoint and perimeter path is strictly regulated and guarded by specialized units from Mandraxx."

"Good," Roy inhaled deeply, placing a reassuring hand on Alisa’s shoulder. "Stay vigilant, Alisa. Keep your eyes open and your network active.

The storm is coming, but we shall strike on our own terms."

"By your divine will, Lord Jarden," Alisa bowed deeply, crossing her arm over her chest.

Without another word, Roy turned and melted into the shifting shadows of the corridor, vanishing from the Cathedral grounds.

A moment later, Roy materialised inside his private estate—a majestic, multi-story mansion constructed just a few hundred yards away from the rising walls of the Royal Castle.

The estate was isolated by lush, mana-rich gardens, offering him a peaceful sanctuary away from the endless noise of statecraft.

Roy stepped out onto the wide, open-air balcony of his upper study.

The cool night wind swept over his crimson fur, carrying the faint, distant hum of the Holy City below.

Below him, glowing street lamps stretched toward the western horizon, lighting up the pristine avenues of a realm that he had built from the barren dust of a desolate desert.

Roy slowly lifted his head, staring up at the vast, star-filled night sky.

Back on Earth, he was just an ordinary guy playing a game, bound by mundane limitations.

But here, every choice he made resonated across continents.

He had come to this world to survive and ascend, yet as he looked toward the eastern horizon where the Jura Eastern Continent lay, a dark, incredibly satisfied smile curled his lips.

The atrocities committed by the Glorious Mythical Sect were horrifying, yes—but to an ambitious entity building a divine empire, they provided something infinitely more valuable.

’A righteous cause,’ Roy thought, his gold-flecked eyes gleaming like twin fires in the dark. ’A justification that no pantheon or mortal law can refute.’

He didn’t just have a reason to cross the border; he had the perfect, undisputed mandate to unleash the full wrath of the God of Beasts upon the Eastern Continents.

He would cleanse the stain of the flesh-eaters, liberate the oppressed beastmen, and claim their faith for his divine flame.

And he would begin by grinding the Glorious Mythical Sect into utter dust.