Throne Hall of the Beast King – Duel Begins
The doors slammed shut behind Isla.
Hundreds of beast warriors ringed the grand chamber, but none dared to move. Their eyes burned with anticipation—and fear. At the far end, the Beast King, now standing from his throne of bones, cracked his knuckles. His mana bristled. His amber eyes locked onto Isla with a deadly predator gaze.Like a lion gazing a giselle.
"You reek of arrogance, human," the Beast King growled, "Let me show you what true bloodlust is."
Without another word, he vanished in a blur.
Beast Fang – First Form: Prowler's Pounce
Beast King came like thunder—his massive form blurred, crashing toward Isla like a comet.
But Isla's body melted into shadow.
Heavenly Dark Art – First Form: Nihilist Cloak.
The Beast King's claws passed through empty air, the only trace of Isla being his cloak fluttering unnaturally in the midst of darkness. From the floor behind him, Isla reformed like ink gathering into shape.
"Too slow," he said flatly.
The Beast King roared.
"Beast Fang – Third Form: Beast Slash!"
His arms expanded monstrously, claws glimmering with hardened mana. He tore through the air in a wide arc—shattering stone columns, gouging the earth, roaring with fury.
Isla raised one hand.
"Second Form: Abyssal Bind."
From the Beast King's own shadow, black tendrils erupted like serpents. They wrapped around his limbs mid-strike, halting his momentum. The ground shook from his resistance.
"Trickery!" the Beast King spat, eyes wild.
Snapping his jaws wide, the Beast King let loose a thunderous blast:
"Fourth Form: Iron Howl!"
The sound warped the very air—shattering torches, making soldiers collapse to their knees in agony. Isla stumbled briefly, blood trickling from one ear. His vision warped for a second—just enough for the Beast King to rip free of the binds.
Dashing forward, the Beast King grinned, aiming for his chance.
But Isla's eyes flashed with frost.
"Sixth Form... Dark Veil."
Suddenly, the room blackened.
The Beast King's stride faltered. The walls seems dark. Colorless. Sounds dulled. His instincts screamed—something was wrong.
He tried to move—but struck the air instead. His senses betrayed him.
Snarling, the Beast King broke the illusion by brute force—howling through it with sheer primal rage. His muscles bulged. His skin cracked open with light. Mana surged like wildfire.
"Beast Fang – Fifth Form: Beastheart!"
His transformation completed. Eight feet tall, his fur turned obsidian-black, his maw dripping with burning aura. Fangs like swords. A monster reborn.
But Isla didn't even blink.
He stepped forward—and sliced the air.
"Third Form: Oblivion Slash."
A black crescent surged forward, dragging a trail of shrieking shadows. It struck the Beast King mid-transformation, sending him crashing through a stone pillar. The chamber howled.
The Beast King stood, bleeding—but laughing.
"You're fun, Emperor. But I'm just getting started."
So was Isla.
In one breath, he disappeared into the floor—then reappeared directly behind the Beast King.
His hand extended.
A rift of shadow tore open before Isla—silent, unnatural, a hole in reality itself. Without hesitation, he thrust his blade into the void. A heartbeat later, steel erupted from the Beast King's shadow, spearing clean through his torso.
The Beast King's eyes widened in shock as blood sprayed across the cracked tiles. His roar was guttural, half pain, half fury—not just at the wound, but at the insult. To be pierced not by the man's hand, but by his own shadow.
But it wasn't over.
The Beast King roared, resisting, blood dripping from his mouth. Isla, cool and composed, retracted his blade and watched.
They stood apart once more, both breathing heavier.
A slash ran down Isla's arm—the first injury he'd taken in years.
He looked at it... and smiled.
"Not bad. But you're still beneath me."