The chaos among the demonic beasts had escalated. What once felt intense now verged on sheer brutality. Each time Mikael glanced down, it was to the sight of beasts locked in vicious combat.
And not just a few. Dozens of battles broke out across the forest. He began noticing patterns—nearly all the fights stemmed from territorial disputes. Beasts weren't killing at random. They were expanding, defending, or stealing land.
He let out a quiet exhale. 'It's close… the territorial conflicts are rising, and the Mountain Range is starting to show signs of overflow. In two days at the latest, the demonic beast tide should begin!'
On that thought, Mikael cast another glance downward. It was just a casual look—one last check before returning to his comprehension. But something in the scene below caught his attention.
A large tiger was locked in a brutal fight against a wolf that was both smaller and visibly weaker in presence and power.
The size difference was ridiculous. The tiger was nearly twice as large, its claws thicker than the wolf's limbs. One swipe could tear a man in half. This wasn't a fair fight—it was slaughter waiting to happen, especially for demonic beasts where size was often synonymous with strength.
The fight shouldn't have caught his attention. It wasn't anything extraordinary, just one more clash among dozens. Yet, for reasons he couldn't explain, Mikael didn't look away. He kept watching.
The tiger moved at a speed that belied its size, muscles rippling beneath its striped coat as it slammed a paw down toward the wolf.
The paw came down with enough force to crush bones. In that moment, the wolf should've backed off—should've run or at least tried to dodge.
It didn't. With a guttural snarl, it lunged toward the tiger, the paw colliding with it mid-air. The sound of cracking ribs was such that even Mikael, tens of kilometers away, clearly heard it.
The wolf crashed into the ground with a dull thud, but not before its claws had torn into the tiger's side, blood spraying like a burst artery.
The tiger roared in pain, its fierce yellow eyes locking on the injured wolf. But to its surprise, the wolf didn't stay down for even an instant. Its broken ribs seemed little more than an afterthought.
With an explosive burst from its hind legs, the wolf crossed the distance and sank its jaws into the tiger's shoulder. Mikael heard another crack—the unmistakable sound of bone giving way.
The tiger roared again and thrashed violently, trying to shake the wolf loose, but the smaller beast only tightened its grip. Seeing that it wasn't working, the tiger raised its forelimb, claws extended, and slashed at the wolf. The strikes tore through fur, muscle, and bone.
Under this relentless assault, the wolf's jaws loosened to the tiger's joy—but just as it seemed about to be flung off, it did something unexpected.
It let go—only to hurl itself upward with renewed fury. Claws digging into muscle, the wolf clawed its way up the tiger's shoulder, its blood-slicked muzzle rising toward the tiger's face. For a heartbeat, their eyes met—one filled with panic, the other with primal defiance.
The wolf lunged forward, its jaws closing on the tiger's right eye, making it burst into a spray of blood and shredded flesh.
The tiger's pained scream echoed through the mountain range. Its claws slashed with frantic energy, tearing into the wolf's side again and again, each strike deep enough to be fatal. But it wasn't enough.
The wolf, uncaring of pain, continued biting into the empty eye socket. Its teeth sank deeper, 'devouring' the tiger's visage in a gory and blood-soaked frenzy. The tiger began to panic.
Blood sprayed as the tiger repeatedly slammed its head into the ground, trying to crush the smaller beast. Yet the wolf didn't loosen its grip. Even with claws raking its sides, it held on. On the contrary—its teeth only sank deeper, determined to drag down the larger beast with it.
There was no technique. No cleverness. Just carnage. The wolf fought like a bloodthirsty asura who had nothing to lose.
Even as chunks of its flesh were ripped away, it kept attacking—eyes wild, mouth foaming, body trembling from the sheer force of its aggression. It wasn't just trying to survive. It was trying to maim, destroy, consume. Every movement was reckless, each strike suicidal, but it didn't matter. The wolf didn't seem to care whether it won. It only cared that the tiger bled.
And it was working. The tiger's movements were growing slower, more mechanical, as the wolf's jaws continued to tear at its head. It should have been the same for the wolf—its wounds were catastrophic. The tiger's claws were shredding it into pieces, and only its astonishing vitality as a demonic beast kept it breathing.
But even with its body torn apart, the wolf continued to maul its prey. Blood soaked its fur until it looked like a true asura crawling out of hell, determined to rend its enemy apart. At last, under the endless assault, the tiger's forelimbs slashed one final time before falling limp, the last ember of life fading from its massive body.
Thud.
The tiger collapsed with a heavy crash, its bulk shaking the clearing. The smaller wolf stood atop it—not so much victorious as simply the last to die.
The beast's ferocity faded with its opponent's death. Its wounds caught up with it in full. The wolf tried to take a step, but its footing slipped. With a weak stagger, it crumpled atop the tiger's corpse.
Blood gushed from its broken body, painting both beasts in red. Its chest rose and fell one final time… then stilled.
This savage, relentless battle had unfolded beneath Mikael's eyes. He'd seen every moment—from the mismatched start, to the suicidal ferocity, to the moment the smaller wolf dragged its superior opponent into death alongside it.
His gaze lingered on the wolf's mangled corpse. For reasons he couldn't name, the fight left a mark. There was something raw in the wolf's persistence—something so savage and unflinching that it struck a strange chord in him, even if he couldn't explain why.
He continued to watch the lifeless wolf for a long moment before closing his eyes again, slowly returning to his silent comprehension.
But even as he tried to focus on his comprehension, his thoughts kept drifting back to that fight. It took a while before he could fully push it from his mind and return to cultivating.
Once his attention was fully on the Sun-Moon Unity Technique and the Elemental Unity Path, time began to pass more quickly.
***
Since he resumed his comprehension, two more days had passed—bringing the total to five days of quiet comprehension since he hid himself in this rocky alcove.
At that moment, Mikael's closed eyes opened—within them, a sharpness deeper than any blade. The circulating Qi stopped moving, returning to stillness in his dantian. With a quiet exhale, he rose to his feet.
Inside the small alcove some details stood out to him. The air had cooled, and the wind carried a dry, electric tension. More notably, he could feel the Qi in the air was laced with an electric attribute.
"A storm is coming…" he murmured as his feet carried him to the edge of the rocky alcove where he'd been 'cultivating'.
KRAK-A-THOOM!
A large thunder strike illuminated his visage as the loud roar of striking thunder resounded in his ears.
Automatically his gaze drifted upward. The sky overhead was covered in dense, dark clouds packed so tightly together that not even a single ray of sun could pass through, transforming what should have been an illuminated day into something darker than night.
The clouds above seemed charged with lightning, streaks of yellow traveled from one to the other. Occasionally, a thick bolt would condense within the dark sky, erupting with power and slamming into the forest below.
Winds howled, seemingly strong enough to tear off even large trees. Yet even with a storm that screamed rain was about to fall, the entire Savagefang Mountain Range remained surprisingly dry—not a single drop falling.
Mikael observed this impressive natural phenomenon with a certain detachment. For a mortal of the Suncrest Region seeing something like that could have been terrifying, with the only thing they could do being hiding indoors while praying it would pass without causing damage. Or worse…
But to a cultivator of Mikael's strength, it meant little. Even if a bolt of lightning fell on him, it wouldn't do him any damage. Because of that, this awe-inspiring display failed to stir even a flicker of emotion in the swordsman's heart.
Without caring much about the raging storm above, his gaze drifted to the forest and similar terrain below, his high ground allowing him to see for thousands of kilometers what was happening in the Savagefang Mountain Range.
No matter whether it was forest, rocky ground, mountainous peaks or even other terrains existing in this mountain range the situation was the same and could be summarized in a single word.
Chaos
Everything his eyes landed on was chaos, absolute chaos. Demonic beasts were on the move everywhere. Massive creatures tore through trees and brush, lesser ones darted in and out of sight, and territorial fights broke out with alarming frequency.
Some beasts ran in desperation, others brawled for ground, and still others were trampled in the frenzy. It was clear that the deeper layers of the mountain range were overflowing—forcing waves of displaced demonic beasts to surge outward.
And it didn't stop on the ground.
The skies were thick with movement. Flocks of winged demonic beasts crisscrossed the storm-wracked airspace, screeching and tearing into each other in sudden, vicious clashes.
Their numbers were vast—hawks with hooked beaks, featherless vultures with lightning-charged wings, winged serpents weaving through the clouds. Some dove straight into the chaos below, while others fought midair for supremacy. It was a battlefield above the battlefield, and it was every bit as savage.
Mikael captured everything that was happening, a small smile forming on his lips. "So it finally begins," he muttered, gaze never leaving the writhing forest below. "Took long enough." The corner of his mouth twitched—almost amused.
He took a step back, falling partially out of sight of any flying demonic beast that could gaze his way. He didn't want to attract the attention of any of these berserk flying demonic beasts, after all.
Observing the scene he shook his head, 'The beast tide is beginning but it is still in its infancy. It hasn't yet reached the first wave, waiting a little more would be for the best.'
Normally, the most common situation for a demonic beast tide formation is when the population of a location reaches its limit and gradually begins to overflow. Once that happens, struggle for territory sharpens rapidly.
In such a case, demonic beasts begin to fight one another far more frequently than usual. Nearly all conflict centers on either gaining or defending territory.
Logically, the stronger demonic beasts win these fights and keep their territory. The losers—if alive, or having fled—are driven closer to the outskirts compared to their previous habitat.
To obtain new territory, the displaced beast will fight and either drive out or kill the one that lived there before.
This cycle repeats again and again, until all the demonic beasts in the area have been displaced. Ideally, it's the weakest of them—the ones forced furthest out—who erupt into the demonic beast tide and strike Savagefang City.
That, at least, would be the ideal dreamlike scenario for the City—survival without much difficulty. But not everything would be sunshine. They wouldn't have gained much either…
Still, this scenario was only hypothetical and wouldn't happen. The demonic beast tide wasn't something this controlled. No—it was an event of chaos. Beasts, driven by overflow and frenzy, didn't behave so neatly. It wasn't nearly as orderly as in the ideal scenario.
To make matters worse, strong demonic beasts driven from their territory rarely behaved rationally. Instead of calmly claiming new ground, they simply charged outward—fleeing their victors without care.
The weaker beasts were pushed forward by the stronger ones, and as the tide swelled, all of them gradually lost the ability to hold their ground—dragged into the beast tide whether they wanted to or not.
As the beast tide grew, every demonic beast was gradually infected by a pack mentality. Creatures that would normally fight to the death now ran side by side in a single, ordered march of destruction that razed everything in its path!
Author Note:
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