That bear hunt was but the first test of many to verify the effectiveness of their new combat system.

  With Onyx managing support instead of standing in the front lines, Tusk could now fight unrestrained and unbothered with his presence, free to channel 100% of his natural fighting instincts . This newfound focus significantly increasing his battle prowess in every encounter.

  Onyx himself, in his new role, could now contribute in more meaningful ways within battles. With Mystic Seer, he could intelligently analyze and react to their opponents. With Hawk Eye, he had the luxury of commanding Tusk from a safe distance, making better judgements under less pressure, while also delivering stunning opening strikes and critically disruptive attacks without any fear of retaliation.

  And, of course, Onyx kept Hatchet ready in reserve for any unexpected situation.

  After their first hunt with this new system, Onyx and his beast worked on honing it further, subsequently accomplishing many more victories.

  With every victory, Onyx grew bolder, seeking more dangerous prey each time he conquered the last. His spirit was like that of a fierce hunter or a gladiator, constantly yearning for a greater challenge.

  This drive was a mix of Onyx's natural ambition, further amplified by the [Fighting Spirit] empowerment. However, he wasn't alone in his ambition; Tusk shared his sentiment. His species didn't have the word "Fighter" in its name for no reason. He, too, yearned for challenge and to prove himself time and again.

  With their combined spirits, Onyx and his totem soon proved themselves against most of the common beast species found in the region.

  Had anyone been truly aware of the rate at which Onyx progressed, he would have developed quite the reputation around the station. Sadly, Onyx had always worked alone and kept a low profile. Besides, most people tended to avoid him anyway because of his look. So in the end, he didn't receive the recognition he deserved, but that didn't matter for him right now as he was occupied with other thoughts.

  His hunting spree had naturally brought him plenty of wealth, yet despite that, Onyx was left feeling unsatisfied. Now standing untested, he no longer felt the thrill of the hunt.

  His dissatisfaction soon turned into frustration as he felt his beast's growth—and his own—slowly grind to a halt. The current status quo lacked the heat and intensity necessary to temper them. He could even feel that Tusk was equally frustrated.

  Luckily for the two, their frustration would be momentarily remedied once news of a particular person reached their ears.

  ---

  Back at Mister Rolf's farm, Onyx walked into the plantation with Tusk treading by his side when they spotted two figures waiting in the distance , a man and a beast. These were, of course, Mister Rolf and his totem beast, Helda.

  Onyx had received news of Mister Rolf's return just recently and he just had to meet up with him to welcome the old man back.

  The reunion of the teacher and student duo was nothing short of heartwarming, beginning with hearty laughs, warm smiles, and powerful slaps on the back—just as the two knew of eachother.

  The back-slapping subsided into a comfortable silence, filled only by the rustle of leaves and Helda's low, contented rumble. Mister Rolf took a half-step back, his keen eyes, weathered like old leather, sweeping over Onyx from head to toe. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face.

  "Look at you, lad," he said, his voice a gravelly warmth. "Been putting your credits to good use, I see." He tilted his head, his gaze lingering on Onyx's stronger figure, hinted at beneath his new attire. "You've changed a lot, I can tell. But not as much as someone else I see."

  The old man's gaze turned to Tusk. Onyx's totem was no longer the little soft grub he remembered, but a juggernaut of black steel.

  With amazement, Mister Rolf approached. Tusk, recognizing him, lowered his head, allowing the old man to touch his armor-like body. As he did, Mister Rolf nodded. "Not bad. Not bad at all."

  Once he had examined Tusk thoroughly, giving him one last head-pat, he turned back to Onyx, wrapped an arm around his neck, and asked, "Well then, lad, what did I miss? I want to know everything," as he led them both back to his hut.

  As the two made their way back to chat, Tusk and Helda, left in the fields, had a meeting of their own.

  Tusk stood tall, lifting his head high and puffing out his chest—a proud stance clearly meant to highlight the diminishing size difference between them. He was now not much smaller than Helda. The cocky light in his eyes practically screamed, "Who's little now?" demanding that Helda recognize his new stature.

  Helda turned her head curiously, taking in Tusk's new form. To think he was once such a little thing. Her usual nonchalant amusement towards him was replaced with careful curiosity and awe.

  This reaction pleased Tusk. Finally, he was getting some respect from that shaggy cow.

  Wanting to show off more, Tusk presented his horn—his pride and joy—for Helda to inspect closely. He was happy to see her examine it with great interest. "That's right," he willed deep in his mind, "look upon me and grant me the reverence I deserve."

  However, he was soon shocked to see Helda turn around and bring her rear to his horn, using it to scratch her bum.

  Tusk immediately recoiled in anger and shock. To use his precious horn for such a thing—the audacity, the disrespect!

  As Tusk angrily sulked before her, Helda only turned her head and, with a mischievous light in her eyes, gave a loud, hearty moo, having a good laugh at his expense.

  Meanwhile, Mister Rolf and Onyx sat on the porch of the hut, deep in conversation.

  "I see," said Mister Rolf after Onyx had recounted what had transpired in his absence. "And what are your growth levels at the moment?"

  "As of right now, Tusk is at 55%, while I am at 20%," Onyx answered.

  Mister Rolf's brows rose. He was genuinely impressed. "Impressive. Even if your personal growth is a bit lacking compared to your beast, your rate of development is quite fast. Maybe not the fastest I've ever seen, but certainly faster than me at your age."

  Onyx smiled at the praise but quickly dismissed it. "Well, I wouldn't flatter it too much. Our growth has been pretty much stagnant lately." He sighed.

  But Mister Rolf quickly comforted him. "Bah, don't sweat your head about it, lad. As a Catalyser and their beast's growth level increases, the difficulty of raising it also increases. It's only natural you'd experience some delays or plateaus. It's part of the process."

  Onyx was assured by the old man's words but couldn't help asking, "So what do you suggest I do?"

  Mister Rolf shrugged. "Well, I can't tell you exactly. To each their own path. But in the end, it's all about finding the right 'catalyst.'"

  Onyx lowered his head, contemplating. He understood, but the wisdom wasn't entirely reassuring.

  Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

  Seeing the uncertainty in the young man's eyes, Mister Rolf added, "Hey, didn't I tell you not to sweat it? Besides, you're pretty smart. I'm sure you'll figure it out. And hey, when you do, who knows? Maybe you'll be the next person to take down a Titled Beast." He finished with a rumbling chuckle.

  However, the last part of his speech left Onyx confused. He knitted his brows. "Take down a what now?" He was familiar with the term but didn't know what Mister Rolf was referring to exactly.

  Mister Rolf gazed at him in surprise. "You know... the Titled Beast that's been tamed? The one that's been the talk of the realm recently?"

  Onyx was no less puzzled. "I... am not following."

  Mister Rolf nearly spat out his drink. "Lad, have you been hiding under a rock these last couple of days?"

  "No, I've been perched atop a tree most of the time. Why?" replied Onyx.

  The news Mister Rolf spoke of had been circulating throughout the entire realm for some time, even reaching Earth. But in Onyx's defense, he had been engrossed in his hunting and cultivation, with no time to frequent his usual news outlets, and thus missed the latest headlines.

  Mister Rolf rubbed his eyes in sheer astonishment. To see the young man he'd just called 'smart' be so stupidly oblivious was painfully jarring.

  Deciding to throw Onyx a bone, he caught him up to speed. "I first caught news of these events when I was periodically checking the news related to the Whisperwood Realm from back home. Though I don't remember all the details, here's what happened..."

  ---

  Several Days Ago

  In the wilderness several miles from Pride Rock Station, a group of forty Beast Catalysers moved along a path through the thick forest.

  Each was geared for a fight, many with their beasts close at their side. Leading the group at the front was a woman with dark blue hair, wearing silver armor and riding a large, fox-like beast.

  Her name was Gryla, and she is the head of this expedition. She kept her eyes focused ahead, alert to everything. She was clearly in no mood for any distractions today.

  As they moved forward, a man approached her. "Leader, we're about to reach the Vorpal Rabbit's territory. I've already instructed everyone to be prepared."

  "Good," responded the woman, signaling that would be all. However, the man lingered beside her, eyeing her hesitantly as if wanting to say something but was too reluctant.

  "There's something bothering you. What is it?" said the woman with a sigh.

  The man blushed a little, then lowered his head. "Haha, Leader knows me too well," he said first, before changing to a more grave tone. "Leader, I am not one to doubt your judgement. However, this time I feel compelled to ask... are you sure about bringing those two along with us?"

  The subordinate didn't need to finish. Gryla already knew whom he meant. Turning her head back slightly, she gazed over her shoulder into the group trailing behind her. Among them were two young girls wearing cloaks, following along on foot ,Athen and Rosafey.

  Looking at them now, Gryla had mixed feelings. She had first learned of the two young Catalysers from the rumors spreading like wildfire across the station—rumors of not only two beautiful but immensely talented newcomers making a significant uproar in the local scene.

  Especially Rosafey, who had started her reputation with a splash, accomplishing a stunning victory against a senior Catalyser on her very first day at the station.

  From there, the ruckus surrounding her hadn't died down but had steadily grown, fostered by her many subsequent achievements: embarking on and succeeding at dangerous hunts for a rookie, issuing and winning numerous duels, and even showing up many of the station's well-known names.

  By now, Rosafey and her companion had a dazzling reputation, one big enough to make other senior Catalysers green with envy.

  But Rosafey hadn't committed her most outrageous deed until this very moment. Gryla and her group were no run-of-the-mill party; they were arguably the strongest collective of Beast Catalysers in the entire station. Wherever they walked, people forged a path for them.

  Until now.

  Gryla was first stunned by Rosafey's audacity—not only to face them directly, but to demand a place in their latest expedition. Had it been anyone else, Gryla would have made an immediate and severe example out of them. But knowing Rosafey's formidable skill and strength, she held back. She saw this as a unique opportunity to rope a genuine rising star into her group.

  However, she remained skeptical of Rosafey’s true ability. She was curious to see just how much the young Catalyser could contribute on an expedition of this caliber.

  “You might be strong enough to stand up to me,” Gryla thought, “but are you strong enough to hold your own against a Titled Beast?”

  This was no simple hunt. Gryla’s group wasn’t pursuing just any beast—they were after a Titled Beast.

  “Titled” is a term created by Beast Catalysers to refer to a creature that has proven itself a cut above its kin and most other beasts , whether through extraordinary deeds or ability. Such a beast earns an individual distinction from the rest of its species and is recognized as a unique existence.

  Titled Beasts are naturally quite rare—and even more so, exceedingly powerful, regardless of level. Defeating one is sure to spread your name far and wide. And that was precisely the goal of this expedition.

  Gryla sought to defeat such a beast, to cement both her own reputation and that of her group.

  The group pressed deeper into the forest, eventually arriving before an area where the grass and ferns had taken on a strange, unsettling red hue. Even the bark of the nearby trees had subtly shifted from a loamy brown to a rusty, almost metallic shade.

  “We’re here. Take formation,” ordered Gryla, her voice low after scanning their surroundings.

  Immediately, her group reorganized into a defensive phalanx. Gryla and several of her vice leaders were stationed at the center, encircled by a wall of beasts and Catalysers. Rosafey and Athen were positioned toward the edges of the formation.

  Once the group was set, they began advancing again, moving with steady, careful steps.

  All eyes were alert—especially those along the perimeter—scanning intently from side to side. The tension in their gazes made it clear ,they knew danger was coming, and were only waiting to see when it would strike, and from where.

  Minutes passed slowly as the group advanced, until one man at the edge of the formation lifted his gaze. When His eyes locked with those of a rabbit-like creature some distance away, peering between the trees.

  For a fraction of a second, they stared at eachother across the clearing. The man’s eyes widened, his face muscles tensed—but before he could utter a warning, the rabbit emitted a blood-curdling screech and vanished. In the next instant, it reappeared directly in front of him.

  The man hardly registered its arrival before a tremendous impact slammed against the shield he held. It felt less like an animal’s strike and more like a powerful spear thrust .

  The rabbit rebounded off the shield, landing lightly back on the ground. The man, however, was thrown backward, crashing into the formation and creating a visible dent in their defensive line.

  Fortunately, the structure of the phalanx cushioned the blow, allowing him to recover almost instantly. As soon as he steadied himself, he shouted a warning—echoed immediately by those around him.

  “Alert! A Vorpal Rabbit has appeared!”

  The rabbit, now only a few paces from the group, screeched even louder in response to their cries.

  Vorpal Rabbits are Corpus-type beasts, resembling—and roughly the same size as—ordinary rabbits. Their fur is predominantly reddish, with a lighter shade on their underbellies. Their most distinctive feature is the set of crimson, blade-like protrusions extending from their feet.

  Despite their deceptively cute appearance, Vorpal Rabbits are savagely aggressive, attacking anything that isn't one of their own on sight. Their bladed feet able to move with blinding speed, slashing and stabbing like daggers in the blink of an eye.

  The rabbit bounced once more, trying to slash at the shielded wall in front of it, but the group, now alert to its assault, resisted effectively. Several Catalysers and their beasts sprang into action, quickly dispatching the creature.

  The confrontation was over in less than a minute, yet despite the danger being dealt with, no one dared relax. Shields remained raised, and beasts stayed primed for attack.

  One well-known fact about Vorpal Rabbits is that where there’s one, there are always many.

  And True to that fact, soon after the first rabbit appeared, others—as if drawn by blood—began hopping closer from among the trees. It wasn’t long before the group was completely surrounded.

  Harrowing screeches filled the forest as the surrounding rabbits immediately launched themselves at the group, attacking from all directions.

  It was as if a hail of knives had begun to fall upon their defensive walls. Shields clattered and screeched under the rabid onslaught.

  The shield-bearers strained and recoiled from the rapid slashes and stabs, but somehow, they managed to hold the line.

  It wasn’t long before Gryla ordered a counterattack. Immediately, a myriad of abilities erupted from the group’s beasts—wind blades, fireballs, water jets, flying thorns, stone shards, and more—creating a chaotic symphony of noise and light.

  Many of the attacking rabbits fell in the barrage, and many more were left injured but still standing.

  To deal with the survivors, Gryla quickly issued another command. Gaps opened in the defensive wall, and several Catalysers and their beasts sprang forward, spreading swiftly across the battlefield to finish off the remaining rabbits in close combat. Claws slashed, teeth sank into throats, and the fight turned brutally decisive.

  Rosafey was among these close-quarters combatants. Even without summoning her own beast, she remained one of the deadliest on the field. She moved with astonishing speed and agility, unbothered by the dense trees, like a swift and graceful gust of wind dancing across the battlefield—a slender rapier in motion.

  In her morbid dance, heads were swiftly separated from bodies, soaking the already reddish forest floor an even deeper shade of red.

  Once all the rabbits were dispatched, the close-quarters fighters retreated back into the formation, and the entire group began advancing once more.

  As the group continued delving deeper into the Vorpal Rabbit's territory, they were besieged by wave after wave of the creatures, each assault growing in intensity the farther they pushed in.

  They dispatched every wave in a manner similar to the first, but over time, exhaustion mounted and shallow wounds accumulated on both the Catalysers and their beasts.

  After weathering many such onslaughts, Gryla finally called out, "We're here!"

  The group now stood on the perimeter of a cluster of trees, all growing above what appeared to be the entrance to a large, shadowy burrow.

  Not long after Gryla and her group arrived before the burrow, a deep, bestial screech reverberated from its depths. Their presence had clearly been detected, stirring whatever dwelled within.

  "Quickly, into position!" shouted Gryla, wasting no time.

  As the group's formation broke and reshuffled, Gryla and many others kept their eyes nervously fixed upon the dark entrance. Before finally, its resident revealed himself.

  "There he is," Gryla muttered, her gaze hardening. "Blood Harvest."

  Swaggering out from the burrow was a beast that resembled a Vorpal Rabbit, yet was far more monstrous. It wasn't exactly a rabbit, but something closer to a hare, standing as tall as a cow’s calf.

  Its fur was a deeper, richer shade of red than its kin’s, but most notably, the crimson blades extending from its feet were far longer. They curved inward in a deadly arc, looking less like daggers and more like a pair of sickles.

  The beast took a few deliberate steps from its burrow before rising onto its hind legs, lifting its head high. Its long ears stood rigid as it scanned its surroundings with an eerie, penetrating gaze.

  It observed the gathered Catalysers for only a moment before its mouth slowly curled open, revealing a set of long, rust-colored teeth. Its lips parted, and it released a menacing screech far more daunting than any they had yet heard.

  The sound reverberated through the forest, a wave of primal intimidation that seemed to freeze every living creature in place.

  Gryla’s group stood stunned for a long moment, until their leader managed to power through the shock, snapping them back to readiness with a sharp command.

  Before long, their previous formation broke apart as everyone moved into new positions.

  At the very front stood Gryla, her vice leaders, and several other elite members—those who had been carefully shielded at the core of the formation until now. Gryla had preserved their energy and strength for this very moment. Their time to act had now come as they would be the main fighting force in this confrontation.

  Scattered several paces behind them were several squads of long-range attackers, ready to provide supporting fire on command.

  Finally, the majority of the group—those who had earlier formed the shielded wall—repositioned themselves some distance behind the main fighting force. Curiously, they angled their shields outward, away from the Titled Beast. Rosafey and her companion stood among this defensive line.

  The two opposing sides faced each other for several tense seconds, the air thick with anticipation. Then, the Titled Beast tilted its head slightly, a cold, predatory gleam in its eyes—like a killer sizing up its next victims. In an instant, its frame dropped low before bursting forward toward the group, screeching like a rabid fiend.

  At that same moment, Gryla roared, “Attack!”—bolstering her ranks and igniting the front line into motion.

  And with that, the battle against the Titled Beast, Blood Harvest, began.