Blood of the Beast God

Chapter 06: The Elite Beast

A shadow crossed Kaelen’s face as he stared down at the skeleton, where the Beast God’s Blood shimmered like liquid fire. For a heartbeat, hope flickered in his chest. Then it collapsed into despair.

That word—despair. It wasn’t just darkness. The worst part was the fall, the drop from hope into nothing. That sudden plunge did more damage than any wound could.

He’d fought tooth and nail to get here, slipping past beasts, scraping through by sheer grit. All for this. All for the Beast God’s Blood that could mend his broken body.

And now? Now a massive, lumbering figure stood between him and salvation.

Kaelen’s eyes twitched. Its huge black rump swayed lazily as the creature rooted in the pit. His hands curled into fists. Rage flared, hot and reckless. He wanted to smash that sight out of existence.

“I hate big butts. And I really hate wild boars,” he muttered.

The beast lifted its snout, tusks flashing. This was no ordinary animal. A wild boar, yes, but something more.

The Valley of Death had rules. Supposedly, no beast stronger than level one could appear here. But rules meant little in the face of what stood before him. This one was different. This was a Level One Elite Beast.

In the game-like structure of this world, monsters were ranked: Normal. Elite. Rare. Each tier brought sharper claws, thicker hides, deadlier instincts.

Against a regular level one beast, Kaelen could fight. He might even win. But against an elite? His stomach sank. Elite wasn’t just a fancy title—it was dominance carved into flesh. Stronger in every way: power, speed, endurance, spirit.

He didn’t need numbers to know. This boar could trample five regular-level ones without breaking stride. Not like the half-grown wolves he’d killed earlier. Those had been barely worthy of the rank.

The weight of its strength pressed on him. Heavy. Smothering. Enough to squeeze hope out of his lungs.

Still, Kaelen refused to give in. He thought fast, eyes darting. Could he slip past? Sneak a hand into the pit? One by one, his ideas shattered. No. The beast wasn’t just an obstacle—it was a wall. Unless the thing decided they were best friends and waved him through (and pigs didn’t fly), there was no avoiding it.

He had planned so carefully. First, the Beast God’s Blood. Then, the green chest. Simple. Clean. But fate had other ideas. He let out a bitter laugh.

Then a spark lit in his eyes. The chest. He had forgotten it for a moment. If he could open it, claim the gear inside, everything could change.

Everyone knew the truth: gear decided battles. Put two fighters of equal level against each other—one with proper equipment, the other bare-handed—the outcome was obvious.

His gaze lingered on the boar for a moment longer. Then he turned. The chest was his only hope. Claim it. Arm himself. Return. Kill the beast.

It was a clear path, at least clearer than throwing himself against an elite right now. Against a regular level one, he stood a chance. The Fanged Rabbit hadn’t broken him.

With resolve solidifying inside him, Kaelen set off.

The way back was quicker than before. It had taken him an hour to get here, but less than that to retrace his steps. Soon, he crouched once more in the grass, the green chest gleaming in the distance.

His breath slowed. Battle intent flared. Step by step, he moved forward, eyes locked on the chest. He acted as though nothing else existed. As though the Fanged Rabbit wasn’t even there.

That was exactly how someone dazzled by the sight of a green chest would behave.

The rabbit wasn’t strong. It was weaker than the wolf Kaelen had fought before. But it had one trick—its skill. Invisibility.

That alone made it dangerous. Most who came here were still candidates, their stats unimpressive. The rabbit’s strike from stealth could cripple them in an instant. Professionals might detect it, but candidates? They never stood a chance.

As Kaelen closed in on the chest, he noticed it—the faint shimmer in the air, the ripple of distortion.

He stopped. Then, without hesitation, he hurled himself into the warped space.

This was why he had pretended not to see it. For this one moment—for the ambush in reverse.

The rabbit had been patient. Waiting for him to turn his back, waiting for the perfect kill. It had worked countless times before. But not today.

Kaelen knew better. Invisible enemies always shared the same weakness—overconfidence. They believed too strongly in their own concealment.

His sudden strike was too fast, too precise. The rabbit barely had time to twitch before his grip closed around it.

He slammed his fist into it, again and again. Each blow thundered. Each one broke the illusion. Its invisibility shattered the instant he touched it. That was the flaw in all stealth: the moment you were hit, you were revealed.

The creature’s true form appeared, hideous in its detail. Long ears, snowy fur, yes—but ruined by the sight of twin fangs jutting down like a vampire’s. Fangs meant for piercing, draining.

Pain ripped through Kaelen’s wrist. Blood poured as its teeth sank deep.

A blood-draining effect.

Ten points gone in an instant. A negative status gnawed at him, but he had no time to care. Snarling, he smashed the creature against the ground.

Bang! The impact shook its grip. Encouraged, Kaelen abandoned fists altogether. He used his own body as a weapon, hammering it into the dirt.

Bang. Bang. Bang…

At last, the rabbit’s bite broke. Its body went slack. It was finished.

Kaelen hurled the corpse aside. Blood trickled down his wrist, but he pressed the wound, forcing the flow to stop. In the real world, this kind of patchwork first aid would be useless. But even candidates here had recovery abilities beyond normal men.

Within a minute, the bleeding slowed. His face was pale, though—he’d lost too much.

He cast one last look at the rabbit’s body. Even in a fight where he had dominated from start to finish, his health had dropped nearly thirty points. Most of it from that damned bleeding bite.

Turning back to the chest, his heart thudded in his ears. Without its glow, he might not have noticed the rabbit at all. Ambushed, he’d be dead already. Lucky for him, the beast had been too dull to realize its hiding place was betrayed by the light.

Now, he stood before the chest. His hands trembled as they reached out.

Life or death. Everything hung on what waited inside.

“Green weapon… green weapon…” he whispered, almost like a prayer.

Only a green weapon could pierce an elite beast’s hide. Only such a weapon could give him a chance.

“A longsword, a battle-axe… even a dagger, I’ll take it,” he muttered, voice shaking with hope.

The chest groaned as it opened, light spilling for an instant before fading away.