The Beast Praetor Kane was unsurprisingly a douche.

Kane’s first act on the battlefield was appearing behind his best soldier, Apex, and backhanding him.

Apex’s body flew like a rocket, leaving wind and dust clouds behind, but Kane didn’t care. Before his best subordinate hit the floor, Kane made a declaration.

“Beast Tribunes! I, your Praetor, demand you to cease your pathetic showing,” Kane roared. “I will deal with the slimes myself.”

One-by-one, the Fairy Tribunes obeyed the command, backing away from their bloodied opponents. None of them voiced their displeasure. Some, like Caster, weren’t happy about the fact that they were forced to lift the vice-grip on their victory. Others like Enigma and Glint didn’t have the sapience to care.

The defenders weren’t enjoying the breathing room too. All of them, particularly Ophelia, were exhausted. Weaker members like Stride and Thalia were out cold.

But despite the bloody battle they had suffered, the defender was far from running out of fumes. Rubric and Xerxes were preparing to go down fighting.

Both men looked each other in the eyes. Without any extra word, they charged. Vanishing at the extreme speed and resounding momentum, both men landed attacks on Kane. Xerxes put all the strength behind the punch aimed at Kane’s abdomen. From behind, Rubric slammed the sword rich in crimson energy upon the neck of the Praetor.

Mystical pressure rippled from the clashing of fleshes and Mana. Violent wind blew before deafening silence.

Kane didn’t even bulge from the full-frontal attack. To Xerxes’ horror, it was his fist which bled from his own strike.

Rubric’s sweat flowed down his pale faces. His sword rested on the monster skin without drawing an iota of blood. He would do more damage slamming a stick against a mountain than swinging a sword at Kane.

They were like ants trying to fell a tree.

Unamused, Kane glared at the puny beings attempting to smite him.

“Is this the best you got?” He said. “Very well, let me do a little stretching first.”

The Praetor of the Beast Clan roared.

It was the sound of primal might, creating a attraction force of its own. Rocks and winds lifted from the crescendoing sound. Gravity seemingly upended itself in terrestrial upheaval. The earth cracked as the power of Kane ripped apart the ground and blasted all things into the sky.

…

The roared of the Praetor echoed through the skies, creating a whirlwind rising into the cloud. Across the fires and forest of broken pagodas Danghai transformed into, the Fairies jeered and rejoiced as the sound of their masters echoed, blaring the standard of their inevitable triumph.

History would record the roar of the Beast as the ultimate declaration of arrogance. An all out bet on the Fea’s victory.

Like all acts of arrogance, it was made before the ax came crashing down. Coincidentally, the roaring of Kane marked the lowest trough of Danghai. And like any trough it was a prelude for a recovery.

After the lowest, the only way things could go is up. 

…

Alpine the Seventh finally managed to fend off the grotesque mutants the Dark Elves had turned into popsicles.

The Snow Maiden Sect originated from the east like its sibling, the Holy Sword Order. While the blade-master of the Holy Sword Order was more adept at the craft of warrior and swordplay, the Snow Maiden Sect prided itself on numerous ancient arts related to ice and materializing the avatar of frost. Yes, they might not be able to tank successive damage like the body-strengthening and empowering specialist of the Iron Blood Army, but that was the point of having three branches in the Divine Fist. Each school was meant to compensate for the others failing.

As a high-ranking member of the Snow Maiden Sect, Alpine was the adept user of one of its ancient art. One particularly developed to create the image of a pristine goddess of ice to enhance her ability.

All it took to freeze the Dark Elves in place was the manifestation of this gentle goddess wrapped in cold mist and diffused light. A single sigh of the white towering illusory image was enough for the breath of frost to sweep upon the mob of mutants and flash-freeze them to the bone.

Alpine gazed in disgust at the face twisted in agony, rage and horror. Her reflection on the ice gazed back. Alpine absorbed the image of the cold woman dressed in damaged clothing with no warmth of pity in her eyes.

She felt nothing but wounded pride as she lifted her foot. One stomp to shatter these worthless creatures trapped inside the icicle, and she would feel better.

Alpine bought her foot down.

Instead of hearing the sound of fracture glass as a  mutated Dark Elf shattered into a million pieces of frozen shards like she envisioned, Alpine’s heel noiselessly met against a footwear, knocking her kick aside. 

If Shyme, Sonovia, Serenade or Requiem were here, they would immediately stop. They would question the path they were heading toward, and immediately pulled back the moment he appeared. They knew what this man was capable of, and more important the sanctity he represented.

When Dream stopped a killing, it was time for the murderer to rethink their life.

Alpine didn’t know this. She never met Dream face-to-face. But like many before and after, she would learn where this masked man stood on the scale of existence.

The first thing Alpine did was question this interloper.

“Are you with them?” Alpine growled, lifting her feet for another stomp at the icicle.

It was a mistake.

Alpine felt her body being yanked off-balance, tossed over the ground like a petulant three-years-old rebounding from a rubber-wall.

“My friend promised a girl we will save her friend,” Dream said. “Sorry, but we are honor-bound to protect that promise. Wish it. Run from it. That result will never change.”

Alpine didn’t recognize the pit she was in.

“Really? Who are you to interfere with my business? Do you know who I am?”

Dream’s answer was short and brutal, “A fatherless vengeful bitch who used violence to justify troubled childhood.” He stepped between her and the frozen Dark Elves. He breathed a silent sigh of relief when his [Tenshou] sensed some brain’s activity from those statues. “I get where you are coming from. I know this will be as alien to you as Quantum Physics is to cave man. It is pointless, but it must be said nonetheless. Be a bigger person, dimwit.” Dream gestured to the helpless mutant-popsicles behind them. “These guys never have a chance. They are idiots for falling for a clown of all things, but this doesn’t warrant a death sentence. You won. They are neutralized. Executing a helpless prisoner of war who couldn’t defend themselves is bad form.”

Alpine glared at the man daring to stop her.

“Prisoner? They are monsters.”

“More reasons not to kill them,” Dream stoically made a counterargument. “Alpine, isn’t it? Do you think this is an isolated case? I can guarantee you that there are more mutants being created at this moment. Some are probably being mutated in Zhong as we speak. Even if you aren’t the live and let live type, you must admit there is merit in studying what  happened to them.” Dream expanded his point. “The Fairy found a way to add the POW to their numbers. We need to find the counter for it, or is your pride more important than the continued survival of every Genus on this Continent?”

A sane man, even a child, knew Dream won the argument. It was a tactical and fool-proof point that covered all the pragmatic bases.

In testament to immaturity, Alpine doubled down on losing the plot.

“I don’t care who you are or what you have to say,” Alpine said coldly. “The only thing that matters is you are defying the authority of the Divine Fist!”

Dream wasn’t amused, “If Zeus does something this stupid, I will defy him too. You aren’t even a blip on the radar. Honesty time, I need you to end this invasion. You can grow up and save us the trouble. Everyone will be incredibly thankful if you do. Or we go down this route and do this the hard way.”

Ice and snow gathered in the palm of Alpine. She swung, creating the sword of a malicious icicle, aiming at Dream’s mask.

The move predictably failed to stick. Dream caught her hand without blinking. Precognition allowed him to grasp every possible iteration of Alpine’s action onward. Alpine would have more success at landing a hit by yelling her attack aloud like a battle manga. At least, that method might make Dream cringed a little.

To make the difference between them perfectly visible, Dream released his Mana and squashed the ice-blade in the palm of Alpine with his Aura, deleting it from existence. It was the perfect display of his mastery over Mana that was unrivaled in the entire Phantasia.

Most would expect an invisible tyrannical pressure of a thousand stars to emerge from Dream and roast Alpine from the inside. That didn’t happen. Dream’s control over his emotion and power output was the stuff of legend.

For Alpine, this lack of ripple of the air didn’t provide any comfort. No. The sheer emptiness around her was disquieting. It extinguished any thought she had of victory. Only the void existed there.

The man in front of her was unfathomable, wrapped in multiple layers of psychic shroud. There was no head or tail to grasp his strength. Her only option was to go all out and pray he was bluffing.

Icy mist erupted behind Alpine.

Fifty-foot goddesses created from icy Mana climbed out of the cold. She was serenely dressed in chiton with her snow-white hair braided. The giant manifestation was a beauty with the air and beauty fitting for a goddess. The giant gazed below and lifted it finger, aiming to consign Dream to oblivion.

The attack never occurred. Instead of accomplishing anything, the giant broke apart into a thousand pieces of scattered Mana.

“Snow Goddess Calling,” Dream decided to leak a little killing-intent. “Adequately powerful enough to take out the mutants. Unluckily, it is manifested from solidified ice-base Mana material and I happened to be the expert at dismantling those. I recommend you try to research Arcane. Those are much harder to deal with.”

Alpine didn’t pay attention to what he was saying. She felt the blade of death impale her body and face. The image of her intestine being pulled out of her body flashed in her mind.

Alpine only experienced this dread once before.

“You are the one who save that ant,” Alpine knew she fucked up.

“Congratulations on solving the planet’s easiest puzzle,” Dream’s precognition experienced another alarm. “Sorry, but I need you to leave for a second.” He quickly added one more statement. “And you shouldn’t call my student an ant.”

Alpine felt the entire planet get yanked from her feet. Not since she was a little chick had she felt the raw gulf. The man in front was like an impassable ravine, standing as the confession to that unreachable gap of absolute power. She tried to comprehend how this thing could be beaten. Her brain emptied all its imagination, and no matter what kind of trick she thought, she couldn’t win. Even when she dropped low enough to use hostage and struck him in ambush, she just knew he would triumph.

As she got flung away at the speed above sound, Alpine wondered how and why such incomprehensible beings contained such power. More importantly, why was he defending those moronic mutants? Was this an act of pity? What could the Dark Elves as a race offer him?

How could a fool who defended those ants be so strong?

Alpine smashed into a high-rise pagoda and went through it, bulldozing into another building at supersonic speed.

It was the heaviest blow she took since the battle in Danghai started.

After blowing Alpine to the horizon like a Saturday’s morning cartoon villain, Dream turned his attention to the frozen mutated Dark Elves. Dream grimaced, mentally searching for the place to hide the popsicle mutants.

Chronicler already made a promise to protect them to that girl. Dream’s heroic pride wouldn’t survive if that promise was broken by sheer bad luck or random building collapsing.

There was another Beast Tribune coming here at hypersonic speed, but she was a small potato compared to finding a good storage. Hopefully, Alpine would remain in a reasonable piece after he finished.

It was a good thing Dream needed the bitch alive, not healthy.

…

The Rescue Team (Requiem, Lena Atalante, Ayla Orman, Ruine)

As Dream finished tying the Dark Elves' development, one Beast Tribunes was fangirling over the roar of the Beast.

“Ahh!” Illness moaned romantically. “Don’t you hear that? The sound of our almighty ruler.” The monstrous ebony monster in the form of the little girl was gushing. “You puny insects will be swiped off the table like trash.” The inhumanly wide mouth spread even further. “Not that you can do anything in that state.”

The Rescue Team was seemingly out of action. Only Requiem was still in the kneeling position. The rest of the group was already floored. Ayla in particular was coughing up blood.

“You can control disease,” Requiem’s vision doubled from the migraine. His lung was burning and the world was spinning in a maelstrom. Judging by the agonizing chore his breathing became, Illness had unleashed some mixture of fever and tuberculosis.

Feeling sadistic curiosity, Illspid tiptoed closer to mock the Knight of Dawn.

“That's right!” The Fairy gleefully confirmed with a curtsy. “I am the Fairy especially created to wipe your puny trash out en masse. My body, my scent, the blood containing my cells, are the most lethal forms of Pathogen to you prehistoric species.” Illness recalled a certain fact and pouted. “Why are you so weak? Is little disease enough to wipe you from the face of the planet? It is your fault I am ranked ninth. If you are more resilient, my disease might be created to be more effective against other Tribunes!”

Illness was so distracted by her little world, she didn’t realize Requiem’s eyes were twinkling with malicious intent.

“It must be a pain to hang around those guys. I guess your colleague must have a pretty decent immune system too.”

Illspid was still distracted in her rant, “Like you wouldn't--,” she noticed the keyword. “What do you mean ‘too’?”

Requiem unleashed the blade of invisible wind, cutting diagonally across the Beast Tribune. Blood spurted forth from Illness, vaporizing into a toxic mist. The viral Fairy sprawled on her behind clutching her injury and yelling incoherently.

“IT HURTS!” She let out the guttural screams.“IT HURT! IT HURT!”

Requiem woozily got on his feet. He glanced at the spurting Fairy’s blood, realizing his strike may have created even more contamination. Even the relatively inexperienced Yuri knew an opponent who contaminated the battlefield with biohazard was a walking disaster. Thankfully, Illness’ reaction to the first hit told him the situation wasn’t unsalvageable.

“Your ability is deadly,” Requiem looked at the crying Fairy. “But deadliness is all you have, isn’t it?” Requiem ripped some tips from Dream’s textbook in psychoanalysis. “I am going to wing a guess, but you always win with the ability to take your enemy down before they can fight. It isn’t surprising you are ranked so low. You never struggled or improved against someone who can fight back. Hell, you probably surrendered from the fight the moment you realized the other Tribunes wouldn’t go down with tuberculosis or Immunosuppressive disease.”

“SHUT UP!” Illness screamed. “How do a mere human like you fight in this viral environment?”

“Trade secret,” Yuri answered, having no intention to explain his abilities.

The truth was during his ‘training’ under Symphony. The frazzled Requiem and L successfully recompiled all the junk traits from T’s Astral-body into a functional skill for them both. It was a testament to the accomplishment of surviving the hoard. In doing so, the two gave birth to the new Skill formed out of the shambled traits T left behind.

The Skill was [Beast Monarch]. The new power, shared with T, represented Requiem’s new-found status as the peak of living organisms. By picking and sculpting the best possible biological make-up from thousands of records, he had created the ideal body with the most ideal selection of balance and strength. Requiem also possessed the enhanced sense and unnatural stealth ability from various predators he hunted in his ‘training’, granting him the tool to launch the undercover attack like the one that nearly killed the unsuspecting Alpine.

He also got a pair of special eyes; the [Magic Eyes: Feral King]. Its predator vision came equipped with intimidation factor, kinesthetic and night vision.

After his training with Symphony, Yuri Ushakov, aka Requiem, had officially left the realm of humanity,

But the abilities which truly put Illness in the corner was his biochemistry control courtesy of [Beast Monarch]. Requiem’s body operated in a high-functioning cycle, giving him the ability to remain constantly active, managing nervous signals and metabolized toxins. His biochemistry defense was powerful enough to develop antibodies when Illspid was too busy talking.

To emphasize the peril of gloating, Illness’s back erupted in another shower of blood from a second assailant who used the Beast Tribune’s diddling to come up with a counter.

Lena Atalante swiped the hazardous blood from her [Feather Edge] as Illness rolled on the floor in pain.

The counter-attack had begun.