"We've only managed to cultivate seven so far, and they're all just newly advanced to the Legendary rank." Upon hearing Muria's inquiry about how many of the war beasts had reached Legendary status, the Golden Dragon Queen responded honestly.
This world they were in was the one saved by the Overlord of the Abyss in the past. Since the Overlord had intervened, Muria, as his descendant, had the right to enter this world freely, without any of the rules of this world suppressing him with ill intent.
Although the Overlord of the Abyss had saved this world, he didn't bring it under the control of the Hall of World Domination. Instead, he simply discarded it. In the Overlord's eyes, this world had little value.
Compared to a small, mid-sized world like this, the Overlord was more focused on the cluster of worlds abandoned by the Old Ones. Though that group of worlds had been ravaged by the Evil Gods, the resources they contained were still significant. And even if they were damaged, careful nurturing could eventually restore them. However, hoping to extract vital energy from them was out of the question.
That cluster of worlds could be compared to terminally ill patients who didn't have long to live. Thinking that you could extract any essential energy from them was pure fantasy.
Of course, none of this had anything to do with Muria. He had simply chosen this almost forgotten world to serve as the temporary training ground for his follower legions. More accurately, this world was under the control of his mother, the Golden Dragon Queen.
Though she ruled this world, the first batch of followers she nurtured was for Muria.
"Only seven? That's a bit too few." Muria frowned. He had heard that his father had already cultivated more than ten Legendary beasts.
"There's no helping it. This world has been severely damaged, and its resources are limited. It's already good that we've managed to cultivate this many," the Golden Dragon Queen explained.
"Fine, anyway, with three hundred thousand war beasts, that should be enough." Muria smiled as he watched the organized ranks of war beasts marching towards him. He was very pleased with the sight before him.
"Oh, by the way, take all the war beasts I've nurtured as well." The Golden Dragon Queen gestured, and the giant beasts resembling draconic serpents that had followed her immediately descended, coiling around her. These beasts were few in number, but each possessed soul-level strength or higher.
They represented seven different species, corresponding to the seven main elements, and could adapt to various harsh environments to fight in a wide range of conditions.
"This might not be appropriate," Muria said, feeling a bit guilty as he looked at the pitifully small group of a thousand or so war beasts his mother had painstakingly raised. However, he felt warmth in his heart.
"What's inappropriate? Just take them. I'll keep a few as breeding stock for the future." Compared to Muria's hesitation, the Golden Dragon Queen was far more generous. After gaining control of this world, she had used most of its resources to nurture a war beast legion for her son, keeping only a small portion for herself.
"Look, I'm your mother. There's no reason for you to refuse what I'm giving you. When this war is over and you've reaped the rewards, just remember to share some with me. Besides, I'm sure you'll win this war."
"Alright, I understand." Since the Golden Dragon Queen had put it that way, Muria no longer felt any need to refuse. Although the dragon-serpent beasts were few in number, they were high-level forces within the follower legions.
...
On the Synapsis Continent, along the coastal region, a group wielding various crude weapons departed from a dilapidated city, heading toward the shore. This was a hunting party.
However, the members of the group were quite peculiar. Most were robust adults, but among them were a few young men who had just matured and even an old man who staggered as he walked.
The air was filled with a visible, filthy haze, so thick that it was clear even to the naked eye. Judging by appearances alone, it was evident that the air quality was abysmal. Ordinary people would likely be unable to survive here for long, but these hunters had long grown accustomed to it. They had been breathing this air since birth, and those who couldn't adapt had already died early on.
"Haha, Nick, you sure are generous, bringing your old man along today. We're bound to have a good haul!" A burly man with arms like beast claws sized up the elderly man in the group, laughing with excitement.
"Of course! Those monsters love eating humans. Using human blood as bait is the best way to lure them in," replied Nick, a middle-aged man with black scales covering his face. The humans of this continent all bore some form of visible non-human traits. Normal humans couldn't survive here.
"Hey, Nick, have you drained all the knowledge from your old man's head yet? If you haven't learned everything, don't waste him as bait—it'd be such a loss."
A burly man reminded him, though his words were chilling. The elderly man about to be used as bait was, in fact, the father of one of the hunters.
"Don't worry. I've learned everything he knows. I tricked him into giving it all up with a healthy dose of drugs." Nick glanced at his father, showing no trace of the normal affection a son would have for his father. His eyes were cold, as though he were looking at a stranger.
"Nick, have you really mastered all of my skills?" The elderly man, aware that he was about to be used as bait, grinned maniacally as drool trickled from his mouth. His mind was clearly not all there.
"Smack!" A whip covered in thorns lashed across the old man's back, sending him stumbling forward and leaving a centipede-like welt on his skin. "Shut up, old man. I'm already as strong as you were in your prime."
"Yeah, you're as strong as I was back then, and now I'm old. If I'd known this would happen, I wouldn't have hesitated. I should've killed you when I had the chance."
The old man, his face twitching from the pain, spoke in a flat, emotionless tone. As he faced death, his only regret was not killing his son sooner when he had the chance.
"Regret all you want. Letting you be devoured by a demon shark is my final mercy to you. Consider yourself lucky," Nick said coldly. His body was covered in scars from his childhood when his father had beaten him.
This was how relationships worked on the Synapsis Continent. Even between father and son, only the purest form of utility existed. As long as one had value, they could live. Once that value was gone, they would be killed. There was no trace of the familial bonds that normal people would have.
Soon, the hunting party boarded a battered, rundown ship and set sail.
After they arrived at a certain part of the sea, Nick personally administered a potent poison to his father. The poison wasn't meant to kill him—it was prepared for the demon sharks.
What followed was a horrific scene. Nick forcefully embedded a giant hook into his father's chest and threw him overboard.
Blood spread through the murky waters, quickly attracting a pack of bloodthirsty sea beasts. After a fierce competition, the largest of the demon sharks swallowed the old man whole, and the hook embedded in the man's chest pierced through the shark's lower jaw.
The potent poison that had been preemptively fed to the old man began to spread within the demon shark, causing excruciating pain. The massive shark went into a frenzy and set its sights on the hunting ship above, charging at it like a spear...
After a brutal battle in which the demon shark leaped onto the ship, the hunting party finally managed to kill it, but not without suffering heavy losses.
"Quick, give me the healing potion!" A man missing an arm and part of his chest, his black-red innards exposed to the air, lay on the shattered deck, weakly shouting at a young boy.
"Father, with injuries like that, even if you survive, what use will you be?" The boy, who usually cowered in front of his father, now had a cold and ruthless expression, entirely devoid of the timidity he once showed.
"How dare you? Without my protection, do you think you can survive?"
"I've already told you, with those injuries, even if you live, you're useless." The boy, Shadow, pulled out a dagger and slowly approached his father.
"You'll be nothing more than a waste of food—a defecating machine. But I have no interest in supporting you. I've already learned most of what you know."
"No!" A cry filled with anger, unwillingness, and resentment echoed across the sea as the boy sliced his father's throat with the dagger.
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