Starting Out As The God of Beasts

The moment Lord Manuses stepped into the clearing, the heavy, freezing pressure that General Tagar radiated was instantly choked out.

A pair of towering, eagle-like wings burst outward from Manuses’ back.

Their feathers were not made of normal plumage, but were forged from a blinding, metallic-gold solar energy that cast away every shadow in the dark forest.

The fierce, tiger-like stripes running across his face and arms began to glow with a brilliant, white-gold holy luminescence.

His thick, heavy feline paws hardened, the skin fusing into razor-sharp, gilded talons capable of tearing through enchanted alloy plates like wet parchment.

His sharpened jawline, his majestic tiger mane thickening and shimmering with a divine, radiant luster that flowed down his chest like liquid light.

He stood as a Holy Griffin Tiger Man, a true Martial Lord, looking down at the western invader.

General Tagar’s tusked face twisted into a mask of pure, defensive aggression.

”This is not a General” General Tagar gulped hard, swallowing his saliva, ”Since when did Tempest have a Martial Lord??”

Sensing the massive gulf in their realms, the Troll General didn’t hesitate.

”It doesn’t matter” Tagar roared, ”Martial Lord or not, you are dead!!”

He poured the entirety of his remaining mana into his frost axe, igniting the gray, destructive aura of his Demolition skill to its absolute absolute limit.

”Die, beast!” Tagar roared, leaping forward and bringing the massive axe down in a strike meant to cleave the earth itself.

Clang!

Lord Manuses didn’t even draw a weapon.

He casually raised a single, gilded talon, intercepting the heavy edge of the frost axe with his bare claws.

”Trojan and Eurenia” he called, ”I’ll handle this startling now, you should return and get yourself treated” he smiled.

The collision tore a shockwave through the mud, but Manuses’ arm didn’t even tremble.

”Pathetic” Lord Manuses grinned.

He was completely toying with the Troll General, keeping a calm, testing gaze locked on the giant’s movements.

”Is this the peak of a western general?” Manuses spoke, his voice a deep, reverberating rumble that shook the leaves above.

”MANUSESSS! YOU FUCKING BASTARD!!”

Tagar screamed in frustration, pulling back and unleashing a rapid, frantic flurry of slashes.

”I hear you well Tagar, you don’t have to yell” Manuses moved with fluid, effortless grace.

He didn’t use his wings to fly.

He simply stepped back and forth, parrying the heavy axe strikes with casual swats of his paws.

Every time Tagar thought he had an opening, Manuses would deliver a sharp, testing punch to the Troll’s ribs or shoulder.

”So weak” Manuses whispered with a lopsided grin written on his lips.

The sheer kinetic force of Manuses’ testing blows sent Tagar flying backward.

The Troll General smashed through five massive, behemoth forest trees in a row, the thick trunks splintering into kindling before he finally crashed into a boulder.

”He-He is strong” Tagar groaned. ”Can I really kill him?”

Tagar coughed up a thick spray of dark blue blood, scrambling to his feet with wide, terrified eyes.

His armor was completely caved in from just a few casual punches.

He was a Martial General, a conqueror of the northern peaks, but against a Martial Lord, he was nothing but a training dummy.

”Don’t tell me you’re done, Tagar” Manuses chuckled softly.

He vanished from the scene, grabbing Tagar by the face. He dashed into the sky, the moment he stood few hundred miles from the ground.

He released his grip on the Troll General.

The air trembled by the pressure, as General Tagar fell at lightning speed.

THUD!

The Troll General crashed into the ground and Lord Manuses slowly descended with lofty grace.

His wings slicing through the air.

”Hey don’t tell me you’re dead, Tagar” Lord Manuses voice tore through space.

Manuses walked slowly through the falling leaves, his gold-feathered wings folding slightly behind him.

He looked at his own talons, then back at the bleeding Troll.

”Your physical limitations have been measured ,” Manuses said flatly. ”You are no longer useful as a punching bag.”

”If you were atleast durable to be my punching bag, I’d have kept you alive for much longer” Lord Manuses exhaled a deep sigh.

With those words, a terrifying, suffocating shift occurred in the air. Manuses activated his active skill:

Lord of Wrath.

Once a Martial General evolves into a Martial Lord.

Their active skill evolves as well.

Gaining the Lord title as well.

Instantly, a deep, crimson-gold fire ignited beneath his white-gold luminescence.

The skill began its ticking protocol, a passive, unstoppable mechanism that would continuously boost the Martial Lord’s flame path offensive parameters with every single minute he remained in active combat.

Even in the first few seconds, the pressure radiating from his frame doubled, turning the surrounding mud into dry, cracked earth.

Tagar felt the sudden, crushing weight drop on his shoulders.

His knees buckled, the raw pressure of Lord of Wrath forcing him toward the dirt before an attack was even thrown.

In a desperate, final act of survival, Tagar held his axe horizontally, throwing up every single scrap of frost mana he possessed into a massive, multi-layered defensive barrier of solid permafrost.

Manuses didn’t use a complex sequence.

He simply took a single step forward, reared his right arm back, and delivered a straight, direct punch toward the center of the ice shield.

BOOM!

The single attack didn’t just break the defense.

It entirely decimated General Tagar.

The multi-layered permafrost barrier shattered into microscopic dust.

The golden solar energy from Manuses’ fist tore through the axe handle, snapping the heavy frost iron like a dry twig, before plowing directly into Tagar’s chest.

The shockwave exploded out of the back of the Troll General’s spine in a horrific cone of blinding light.

Tagar’s massive frame didn’t even fly backward.

The sheer velocity of the holy energy incinerated his internal organs and pulverized his core instantly where he stood.

When Manuses pulled his fist back, the lifeless, empty shell of the northern General collapsed forward into the dirt, his blue skin rapidly graying as his mana dissolved into the wind.

The five thousand strong army of Norona was officially without a leader, and the clearing fell into a dead.

Absolute silence.