The beast lair trembled.
A colossal roar, filled with fury and unwillingness, echoed through the trail grund. The Giant Beast King—a monstrous beast containing parts of sea serpent, lion, and ancient kraken—collapsed onto its side with a thunderous crash. Its golden-blue blood soaked the obsidian battlefield, steam rising where it touched the scorched stone.
Kent stood over its fallen body, chest heaving, his robes torn, muscles taut with exhaustion and defiance. His right hand still crackled with remnants of Nirvanic flame, and his left gripped the shattered spine-spear he had forged mid-battle from the Beast King's own tailbone.
But it was over.
The creature let out one last gurgling breath before silence fell.
Kent slowly walked forward. His eyes, dimmed from fatigue, sharpened as he knelt before the Beast King's open wound. Without hesitation, he pressed his palm into the boiling pool of divine beast blood.
The instant it touched his skin, the world ignited.
