Extra: Yandere Milfs Obsessed with me!-Chapter 209: Beast: Ayil From the Avian Tribe

Ayil’s family lived far from everything, perched on the steep heights of the Misty Mountains of Arcadia. They belonged to the Avian tribe, half-beasts with abilities very close to those of an eagle, and like all his kind, Ayil had never known any horizon other than these jagged peaks and valleys drowned in clouds.

When he turned 14, his mother sent him to gather some simple fruits on a plateau he knew by heart. He spread his wings, felt the wind carry his long feathers, and launched himself without the slightest apprehension. He had been flying over the gorges since childhood; he knew every air current.

But that day, something was wrong. He didn’t see the net stretched between two peaks until it was too late. The collision threw him violently backward, the meshes tightened around his wings, and he tumbled into the void, held only by barely visible cables. As he struggled, he heard human voices echo against the rocky wall.

"I’m telling you he’s young, you can tell by the color of the flight feathers," asserted the first man in a hoarse voice. "The old man up there is going to pay us a fortune for him. An Avian, that’s pretty rare."

Ayil struggled harder, but every movement only tightened the net around his wings even more.

"What do you want from me!!!"

A second man, taller than the first, approached and observed him coldly. He took a cigar from his pocket, put it to his lips, lit it, then blew the smoke in Ayil’s face.

"So you wanted to fly, little bird?"

Despite the pain and fear knotting his stomach, Ayil tried to get up. He had barely moved when the man delivered a violent kick to his ribs.

"Kuh! *Cough* Shit *Cough*"

The impact was so brutal that Ayil spat saliva mixed with a trickle of blood. He curled up, trembling with pain, hands pressed against his side.

"You, don’t move anymore, got it?" the man ordered, leaning over him. "You’re going to bring us a nice sum of money. So stay quiet if you don’t want to suffer more."

He straightened up, turned on his heels, and signaled to two other men waiting a little farther away. They approached without a word, grabbed the net, and carried Ayil away like game. They threw him roughly into a cage set up on a cart, locked the door, and the convoy set off.

For several days, Ayil endured the jolts of the road without seeing daylight. He heard the voices of his captors, their laughter when they talked about the money they were going to get.

"I’m sure father is on his way and will find me; after all, he’s the most powerful in our tribe."

He tried to keep hope, to believe that his people would find him, but as the days passed, that hope dwindled.

When they finally arrived in an immense city whose existence he had never imagined, Ayil felt his heart race. The streets teemed with people, buildings piled on top of one another. The cart skirted the main arteries to take a dark alley leading to the back of a colossal building: the Colosseum.

They pulled him out of the cage, still covered with a sheet, and dragged him inside. His captors stopped in front of a man with an imposing appearance. The one who seemed to be the leader of the traffickers burst into loud laughter.

"I’ve got something really rare for you," he announced in a triumphant tone.

With a gesture, he tore off the sheet. Ayil appeared, wings bruised, gaze still fierce. The master of the Colosseum scanned the prisoner with his eyes, and his face lit up with almost childlike joy.

"How much?" he asked without beating around the bush.

"500 gold pieces."

The master’s smile vanished instantly. He frowned, looking annoyed.

"That’s too much, you want to ruin me? I’ll give you three hundred."

"Four hundred," the other repeated, crossing his arms. "Not a coin less; you know an Avian can make you a lot of money."

For a long moment, the two men sized each other up. Then, seeing that his interlocutor wasn’t going to give in a single cent, the master of the Colosseum growled, took out a bulging pouch from his belt, and handed it to him. The man weighed it, quickly counted the coins, nodded, then turned on his heels without a glance at Ayil.

Left alone with his new acquisition, the master approached the cage. He struck the bars violently with the flat of his hand. Ayil jumped, heart pounding.

"Welcome to the Colosseum, little one. Here, your life no longer belongs to you."

... 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

Several years passed. Ayil was now seventeen years old. He had lost count of the time spent in the arena. He had become a seasoned fighter, counting among the best gladiators of the Colosseum. He had learned to fight, to kill, to survive.

That day, as usual, he was sitting in his corner in the rest room reserved for fighters. Around him, some slept, others repaired their equipment. Calm reigned, disturbed only by the muffled noise of the fights taking place above.

Suddenly, a terrifying crash tore through the air. The outer wall of the Colosseum literally exploded, sending blocks of stone in all directions. The rest room was invaded by dust, screams, panic.

"What’s happening!?"

Without thinking, Ayil leaped to his feet and rushed toward the exit to understand what was going on.

But in the corridor, the sight that awaited him froze him in place. The majority of the fighters lay on the ground, unconscious or dead, he couldn’t tell. And in the middle of them, standing motionless, was a man dressed in a long black coat. A demon mask hid his face.

The man slowly turned his head, and his eyes, the only visible elements, settled on Ayil. A glacial shiver ran down the young Avian’s spine. Then the stranger made a sound that resembled surprise.

"Well well, blond hair and golden-brown wings?" he said in a calm voice. "It’s rare to come across an Avian around here."

Ayil did not reply. He remained frozen, fists clenched, assessing the threat.

"Who are you!?"

From his ears, it was easy to notice that he was a Lycan.

Perplexed, Ayil did not reply either. He assumed a fighting stance, wings slightly spread, ready to leap. But he had barely sketched the movement when he felt a warm breath against his ear. The man’s voice rang out; he had crossed the distance separating them in a fraction of a second.

"Give up, you have no chance."

Ayil spun around abruptly, but there was no one there. The masked man had crossed the space in a flash, too fast to follow with the eyes. He now stood a little farther away, leaning against the wall.

...

Gunar, who had just completed his monthly mission by destroying the slave Colosseum, encountered an Avian. He knew that this tribe consisted of proud beings who stayed very far from Arcadia’s conflicts.

In a way, they were the elves of the half-beast continent. Their confidence was based on their great wings that could even create storms and their hands that were like talons capable of easily crushing skulls.

And so a violent battle ensued.

The two were sitting; Gunar was more or less fine, he hadn’t used 60% of his power, but Ayil was quite sturdy.

"For someone your age, you’re pretty tough. What are you doing here?"

Ayil sighed while looking at the sky, his golden-yellow eyes piercing the clouds...

"I suppose that’s destiny; there’s nothing we can do about it..."

Gunar looked at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Pathetic, I thought Avians had some pride." Gunar stood up.

Leaving Ayil clenching his teeth,

"It’s true that Avians are naturally proud, but what good is that to me if I’m so weak! I... I don’t have"

Gunar turned around: "Once someone told me..."

"If you’re weak as a half-beast, become a Beast."

Ayil looked surprised. "That’s... Who was that man?"

Gunar removed his mask with a slight smile.

"The Predator of Predators."