Chapter 79: The King of Beasts

He stood in the center of a sprawling, circular courtyard paved with massive slabs of sun-baked sandstone and polished obsidian. The architecture around him was breathtaking in its primal scale. Giant pillars carved directly from the living rock of the surrounding mountains reached toward the sky, wrapped in thick vines and adorned with massive, hanging braziers that burned with smokeless flame despite the daylight. It was a fortress integrated seamlessly into the jagged peaks of a vast mountain range.

He was surrounded.

A dozen guards had turned their weapons toward him the moment he materialized. They were not human. The closest, a towering man with the golden eyes and striped, muscular arms of a tiger-kin, held a halberd that looked heavy enough to cleave a carriage in two. To his left, a wolf-kin woman with silver ears flattening against her hair bared sharp canines, her spear leveled perfectly at Arthur’s throat.

They did not attack. Their discipline was absolute, but their killing intent was suffocating.

Arthur did not raise his hands. He did not flinch. He simply let the ambient chill of his Frost Sovereign affinity bleed into the air around him, a silent, deadly warning that he was not easy prey. The temperature in the courtyard plummeted ten degrees in a matter of seconds. Frost began to crystallize on the obsidian slabs beneath his boots.

The guards narrowed their eyes. The tiger-kin stepped forward, his jaw tight.

Before the guard could speak, a sound like a collapsing cavern echoed from the far end of the courtyard.

It was laughter. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ

"Stand down! Stand down, you rigid fools! Do you want to freeze my courtyard solid before the feast even begins?"

The heavy ironwood doors at the top of the courtyard stairs blasted open, completely blown off their hinges by the sheer physical force of the man stepping through them.

Arthur blinked, his mana instinctively surging as his eyes locked onto the approaching figure.

If the guards were imposing, the man striding down the steps was a force of nature. He stood easily over eight feet tall, possessing a physical bulk that defied standard human anatomy. A wild, untamed mane of golden-brown hair cascaded over his broad shoulders like a lion’s mane. He wore an open leather vest trimmed with the furs of apex predators, exposing a chest crisscrossed with jagged, pale scars. Heavy golden bracers adorned his forearms, and a thick, jewel-encrusted belt held up his loose trousers.

But it was not his size that made Arthur’s instincts scream. It was his aura.

The man radiated a vitality so overwhelming it felt like standing next to an open furnace. He was a walking sun, a dense core of physical and magical power that easily surpassed most of the senior instructors at the Academy.

And yet, despite the terrifying pressure he emitted, his face was split into a massive, ear-to-ear grin, revealing a set of sharp, predatory canines.

This was Gorgon. The King of the Beasts.

"So!" Gorgon bellowed, his voice echoing off the mountain walls as he closed the distance with terrifying speed. "The little silver-haired monster actually kept her word! I was beginning to think Lily had forgotten about our arrangement."

Gorgon stopped two paces from Arthur, looking down at him with bright, piercing amber eyes. He leaned in, sniffing the air audibly.

"Smells like ancient ice. Tastes like nightmares," Gorgon rumbled, his grin widening. "A human with the scent of apex predators. You must be the boy she mentioned."

"Arthur Vance," Arthur said evenly, his voice steady despite the overwhelming pressure. "Headmistress Nightshade sent me. I assume I am in the right place."

"The right place? Ha!" Gorgon threw his head back and laughed again, the sound vibrating right through Arthur’s ribs. "Boy, you are in the heart of the Beastkin Kingdom! And any friend of Lily Nightshade is a guest of absolute honor in my halls!"

Without warning, Gorgon swung a massive, tree-trunk of an arm and clapped Arthur on the shoulder.

It was meant as a friendly gesture. For a normal human, it would have shattered their collarbone and driven them to their knees. Arthur saw the movement a fraction of a second before it landed. He instantly cycled his mana, reinforcing his bones and muscles with the dense, unyielding structure of ice.

The heavy hand slammed into Arthur’s shoulder. The stone beneath Arthur’s boots cracked with a sharp snap, spider-webbing outward for two feet, but Arthur himself did not budge an inch. His expression remained entirely neutral.

Gorgon’s eyebrows shot up. He looked at his hand, then looked at Arthur’s unbroken posture.

A low, rumbling chuckle built in the King’s chest, quickly escalating into a roaring laugh that forced the surrounding guards to wince and cover their sensitive ears.

"Good! Very good!" Gorgon roared, his eyes flashing with genuine delight. "You don’t snap like a twig! The last envoy the Academy sent me coughed blood for a week when I greeted him. Lily knows my tastes. Come, Arthur Vance! We have much to discuss, but in my kingdom, no business is done on an empty stomach. Tonight, we feast!"

Gorgon did not wait for an answer. He spun on his heel, his heavy furs sweeping through the air, and marched back up the stairs toward the massive, open doorway of the palace.

Arthur let out a slow, measured breath, allowing the frost armor beneath his skin to dissipate. He adjusted his coat and followed, his mind racing.

As they walked through the grand halls of the mountain palace, Arthur took in his surroundings. The interior was a stunning blend of natural geology and aggressive opulence. The walls were smoothed cavern stone, illuminated by veins of glowing, golden crystals embedded directly into the rock. Massive tapestries depicting ancient hunts hung between braziers, and the floors were carpeted with the pelts of beasts that must have been the size of houses.

It was a stark contrast to the sterile, politically tense atmosphere of the Academy. There was no whispering behind fans here, no subtle aristocratic maneuvering. The power here was raw, visible, and celebrated.

"Lily helped me out of a rather tight spot recently," Gorgon said over his shoulder, his massive strides forcing Arthur to walk briskly just to keep pace. "During that little invasion your Academy suffered. The emergency bell was rung in my territory. She arrived before the echo even faded. I owe her a great debt for her swiftness. So, when she told me she had a... specialized student who could handle a delicate problem of my own, I told her to send him immediately."

Arthur processed the information rapidly. The emergency bell. The invasion arc back at the Academy. Lily had vanished briefly during that chaos. She had come here.

"I am at your disposal, Your Majesty," Arthur replied smoothly, keeping his tone respectful but not subservient. "Though the Headmistress was entirely vague on the details of my assignment."

"Call me Gorgon, boy! Majesty makes my teeth itch," the King laughed, though the sound was slightly softer this time. "And of course she was vague. That little monster loves her secrets. But do not worry about the details yet. You just survived a spatial tear from Lily Nightshade. Your mana pathways need time to settle. Tonight, you drink, you eat, and you enjoy the hospitality of the beasts."

They emerged into a cavernous dining hall that defied imagination.

The Great Hall of Gorgon was easily the size of three Academy training arenas put together. Long tables carved from single, massive trees stretched across the floor, already packed with hundreds of beastkin warriors, nobles, and courtiers. The noise was deafening—a chaotic symphony of roaring laughter, clashing tankards, and boisterous arguments.

At the far end of the hall, an enormous fire pit roasted several whole, massive boars, their fat dripping into the flames and sending up plumes of heavily spiced smoke.

The moment Gorgon entered the hall, the room erupted into a unified, earth-shaking cheer. Tankards of ale were slammed against the tables. The King of the Beasts threw his arms wide, soaking in the adoration of his people, before grabbing a passing barrel of ale—an entire barrel—and lifting it above his head to drink directly from the tapped spigot.

Arthur watched the display with cool calculation.

The atmosphere was overwhelmingly positive, infectious even. It was a kingdom that wore its heart on its sleeve, celebrating life and strength with every breath.

But Arthur had not survived this long by trusting surface appearances.

He was guided to the high table, seated directly to the right of the King’s massive throne. Almost immediately, he was descended upon by servants carrying platters of steaming meat and tankards of dark, frothy ale.

The beastkin women at the nearby tables did not hide their stares. Unlike human nobility, who would cast coy glances from behind laced fingers, these women looked at Arthur with predatory, unapologetic interest. They cataloged his lean, functional musculature, the sharp angles of his jaw, and the heavy, dangerous density of his mana. Several of them flashed fangs in seductive, inviting smiles, their tails flicking in obvious intrigue.

Arthur returned their gazes evenly, acknowledging the attention but giving nothing away. His Grimoire pulsed faintly at his hip, the subtle hum of the Lust affinity acknowledging the raw, unfiltered desire directed his way. He pushed the sensation down. Now was not the time.

Gorgon slammed his empty barrel down on the stone floor, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a wide grin plastered across his face. He leaned over, tossing a massive chunk of roasted meat onto Arthur’s golden plate.

"Eat! Build your strength, Arthur Vance! My kingdom breeds the strongest warriors in the world, and tonight, you are one of us!"

Arthur took a bite of the meat. It was incredibly rich, seasoned with spices that made his tongue tingle and his mana flare with sudden energy. The food itself was infused with vitality. He took a measured drink of the ale. It was strong enough to drop a standard human into an immediate coma, burning down his throat like liquid fire. He immediately activated his mana, filtering the alcohol through his system to prevent himself from losing his edge.

Gorgon roared with laughter at a joke shouted from down the table, throwing his head back in pure joy.

But as the King turned his head, Arthur caught it.

Just for a fraction of a second.

The cheerfulness vanished from Gorgon’s golden eyes, replaced by a deep, crushing shadow. It was a look of profound exhaustion, of simmering anger, and of the heavy, suffocating burden of a father desperately trying to protect his own.

The mask snapped back into place a moment later, Gorgon roaring for more ale and pulling a laughing beastkin woman into his lap.

Arthur took another slow sip of his drink, his eyes scanning the Great Hall.

The King was putting on a magnificent show. The entire kingdom seemed to be a grand, boisterous stage. But beneath the roaring laughter and the flowing ale, something was deeply wrong in the Beastkin Kingdom.

The banquet continued into the night, a whirlwind of fire, flesh, and untamed magic. Arthur sat in the center of the storm, pacing himself, observing every face, every whisper, every hidden glance.

He was ready. Whenever the King decided to drop the cheerful facade and reveal the true nature of his mission, Arthur would be waiting. The game had already begun.