Samuel's POV
Inside the Throne Room – Beast Caste
After our banter settled into a comfortable silence, Owen leaned against one of the beast-carved pillars, arms folded, his beast aura thrumming like a heartbeat through the chamber.
He looked at me thoughtfully, then asked, "You mean you're heading back to the Human Realm for something?"
I smirked, my fingers tracing the hilt of my blade as I gazed toward the misty horizon beyond the throne room's open arches. "Yeah. Word's spread—rumors of a demon hiding in plain sight, growing stronger with each passing month. Something dangerous... primal. Sounds like fun, doesn't it?"
Owen tilted his head, a low chuckle escaping his lips. "Still chasing stronger opponents, huh?"
He crossed the room in a few strides, his footsteps echoing. "I can tell... you're strong now, stronger than most—but not enough to surpass me yet."
I didn't even deny it. "You're right. Your current level... still outmatches mine. But this is exactly why I want that fight with the demon. I can feel it, Owen. That creature might just push me into that next threshold."
My eyes glinted with excitement. "Imagine it… when I return, we'll see if the Martial King can still block my blade."
He laughed again, a deep and rumbling sound, more beast than man. "I've missed this, Samuel. That hunger in your eyes—it's the same as it was back then."
Then he turned toward his throne, tossing himself casually onto it. "The Gate to the Human Realm won't open for another week. How about I keep you busy until then?"
I raised a brow. "Busy, how?"
"Work you'll like," he said with a knowing smirk. "Some rebels from the West are trying to breach our territory. Dangerous bastards, strong… but not strong enough to face a Heavenly Demon."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Think of it as a warm-up. A playground to stretch that blade of yours."
I cracked my neck, rolling my shoulders. "Sounds tempting. So long as I get to kill without politics."
"Here in the Beast Caste?" He grinned like a wolf. "We don't do politics. Just kill or be killed."
I nodded. "Then point me in the right direction, King."
He extended his hand lazily toward the westward cliffs. "Two days' ride. Tear them apart. And if you bring me their leader's head, I'll throw in something extra—maybe a Beast Core or two."
I grinned wickedly. "Now you're speaking my language."
As I turned, my cloak billowed behind me like the shadow of war itself.
The Heavenly Demon was about to hunt again.
________________________________________
Samuel's POV
Location: Scorched Highlands – A few days before Owen's Quest
The wind here burned like hellfire, dry and searing. The cracked earth beneath my boots groaned as if it remembered battles long past. A perfect place to let loose.
I flexed my fingers, the gauntlets glowing with a faint, ominous red—The Gauntlets of Warden. Ancient weapons bound to my soul now, forged in the deeper layers of the Abyss and tempered by my will. Their power was raw, untamed. I needed to mold them to me.
"Time to see how far I've come."
The first to approach me were a group of wandering mercenaries—probably bounty hunters looking for a quick payday after hearing rumors of a lone traveler. Bad luck for them.
"Stop right there!" one of them shouted. Scar across his face, dual blades in his hands. "Hand over your weapon and any artifacts. Or die."
I cracked my knuckles, and the gauntlets pulsed.
"You should've just stayed home today."
He rushed in, blades flashing. I let him come. My right gauntlet ignited with flame as I brought it up, caught both his blades in my palm, and squeezed.
CRACK.
He screamed as I shattered his weapons and sent him flying with an uppercut that tore through the air like a cannon blast. The others hesitated.
"Don't stop now," I grinned. "Come show me what you've got."
They came at once.
I spun low, the left gauntlet dragging through the ground, scooping molten earth and launching it in a fiery arc. One was consumed instantly, another caught it in the leg and howled. I leapt forward, using the gauntlet's weight to drive my punch through his chestplate.
BOOM.
He crumpled like paper.
I didn't stop there. For hours, I roamed the Highlands, challenging whatever beast or warrior dared approach. Giant scorpion-like creatures. Tribal warbands. Even an earth dragon slumbering beneath the canyon—I punched its jaw so hard it lost two fangs before retreating with a growl.
Every hit, every movement—my gauntlets responded better. The recoil that once jolted up my arms now felt like rhythm. The flame trails, once chaotic, were now extensions of my will. I could strike and shape the battlefield in one movement.
Mastery... it's close.
Later, as I sat on a rocky cliff overlooking the burning plains, I held out both gauntlets. They were no longer just weapons—they were mine. Made for my rage. My strength. My warpath.
"Owen's quest can wait. But when I go, I'm going with more than just power…"
I clenched my fists.
"…I'm going with control."
And that's far more dangerous.