Chapter 179: The Law of the Wild

The muddy shores of the Beastman Continent trembled under the sheer weight of the primitive horde.

Ten thousand savage warriors slammed their crude bone axes against their massive wooden shields. They howled at the dark sky, demanding blood.

The Level 72 Minotaur Alpha stood at the front of the roaring army. He was a mountain of dark fur and heavy muscle.

He gripped a colossal spiked iron pillar in his massive hands. He snorted a thick cloud of white steam into the freezing sea air. He looked at me with absolute, primitive contempt.

I did not draw a weapon. I walked slowly down the heavy iron loading ramp of the transport ship. My S-Grade Hive Chitin armor hissed softly as my heavy brass boots sank slightly into the wet sand.

"I told you to die, iron man!" the Minotaur warlord bellowed.

The Alpha did not hesitate. He charged.

The sheer kinetic force of his massive hooves tore deep trenches into the mud. He closed the distance in a fraction of a second.

He swung the colossal spiked iron pillar in a devastating horizontal arc directly toward my skull.

The Level 72 brute poured every ounce of his natural physical strength into the blow. It was an attack designed to completely shatter a heavily armored knight.

I did not dodge. I simply raised my right hand.

CRUNCH.

The deafening sound of shattering metal echoed across the entire shoreline.

I caught the colossal spiked pillar perfectly in my bare green palm. The massive kinetic shockwave blasted the fog away from the beach, kicking up a massive wall of wet sand around my boots.

But my arm did not move a single inch.

My Level 68 consolidated vessel possessed a base physical density that defied biological limits.

Combined with my 4,100 Aegis Rating, the Minotaur’s ultimate attack felt like a gentle breeze against my flesh.

The warlord’s dark eyes widened in absolute, paralyzing horror.

"You rely entirely on brute force," I rumbled, my deep baritone voice vibrating through the suddenly silent air.

"But you do not understand the physics of pressure."

I closed my thick green fingers. The Flame of Death violently ignited in my palm. The pitch-black conceptual fire instantly devoured the crude metal.

The colossal iron pillar shattered into brittle gray dust right inside my grip.

Before the Minotaur could even drop the broken hilt, I stepped into his guard. I drove my right fist directly into the center of his massive, muscular chest.

BOOM.

The impact sounded like a cannon firing. The Minotaur Alpha was violently lifted off his hooves. He flew backward through the air, crashing heavily into the mud fifty feet away.

He tumbled violently across the wet sand, finally coming to a stop directly at the feet of his own terrified warriors.

The entire horde went completely silent. Ten thousand savage beasts stared in absolute shock as their unconquerable warlord lay gasping and coughing up blood in the dirt.

I walked slowly across the beach. I stopped right over the broken Alpha. I looked down through my glowing red visor.

The Minotaur was clutching his shattered ribs. He looked up at my towering green form, waiting for the killing blow.

"I am the Sovereign of the Forge," I declared, unleashing the full weight of my Domination Aura. The heavy conceptual pressure forced the front lines of the beastman horde to drop to their knees in the mud.

"I did not cross the ocean to hunt animals. I came to build an army. Swear loyalty to my banner, or die in the dirt."

The Minotaur coughed violently. He slowly forced himself up onto his knees. He did not look angry.

He looked at me with absolute, primitive worship. In the harsh laws of the wild, the strongest beast commanded absolute obedience.

"You broke my iron," the warlord gasped, bowing his massive horned head until his forehead touched the mud.

"You are the Apex. The Blackhorn Tribe is yours, Sovereign."

The Alpha slowly lifted his head. His dark eyes burned with a sudden, desperate logic.

"But words are just wind," the warlord continued, gesturing toward the primitive tents in the distance.

"If you are truly the Apex, you must secure the bond. Take my eldest daughter. Fill her with your seed. Let my bloodline serve the strongest King."

Rolf chuckled darkly from the ramp behind me. The Silver Colossus understood the primitive culture perfectly.

"I will accept your loyalty, Warlord," I replied coldly, crossing my massive brass gauntlets over my chest.

"But my bloodline is currently closed. You will prove your worth to the Forge with iron, not breeding."

I turned my visor toward my Vanguard General.

"Rolf," I commanded. "Unload the cargo."

The Vanguard soldiers immediately marched down the iron ramps. They dragged massive wooden crates filled with Nyssa’s newly minted weaponry.

The soldiers kicked the crude bone axes and rusted swords out of the hands of the kneeling beastmen.

Rolf forcefully handed a sleek, heavy Void Steel kinetic mana-rifle to the terrified Minotaur warlord.

"We are halting the march for three days," I announced to the horde.

"You are no longer wild beasts. You are infantry of the Velkrath Imperium. My soldiers will teach you how to load, aim, and fire these machines. You will learn the discipline of the trenches. If you cannot learn, you will be left behind."

The next three days were a brutal, localized industrial revolution.

The peaceful foggy shores were shattered by the continuous, deafening crack of Steampunk artillery. Rolf and the Vanguard completely overhauled the Blackhorn Tribe.

They stripped away the animal pelts and strapped heavy black iron plating onto the massive minotaurs and centaurs.

They taught the towering reptilian brutes how to channel their natural mana into the kinetic rifles.

I watched from the deck of the flagship. In less than seventy-two hours, a disorganized horde of primitive savages had been hammered into a heavily armed, disciplined artillery battalion.

On the evening of the third day, the Minotaur warlord walked up the iron ramp of my ship. He wore a pristine chest plate of Void Steel.

A massive kinetic rifle was strapped securely across his broad back. He looked like a terrifying engine of modern war.

"Sovereign," the warlord grunted, slamming his fist against his new armor in a perfect military salute.

"The Blackhorn battalion is fully loaded. We are ready to bleed for the Forge."

"Good," I nodded, looking out over the dark, sprawling forests of the continent.

"Where are the rest of your warlords hiding?"

The Minotaur grinned savagely.

"They are not hiding, Apex. You have arrived at the perfect time. Every single high-tier Alpha on this continent is currently marching toward the center of the territory. They are gathering at the Blood Plateau for the Great Hunt. They intend to fight in a massive tournament to crown a single Beast King to rule the land."

I stared at the warlord. My Sovereign core rumbled with a deep, predatory surge of absolute satisfaction.

I did not need to spend months hunting down hundreds of isolated tribes in the mud. The entire military might of the Beastman Continent was conveniently gathering in one single location.

"We are going to the Blood Plateau," I commanded, my baritone voice dropping into a dark, vibrating register.

"Tell the Vanguard to prepare the atmospheric thrusters on the dreadnoughts."

The Minotaur blinked in confusion.

"Thrusters? Sovereign, the plateau is surrounded by impassable jagged mountains. We must march through the narrow southern valleys to reach the arena."

"We are not marching," I growled, a jagged, terrifying smile forming behind my red visor.

I looked up at the dark, overcast sky.

"If they want a Beast King," I declared,

"then we are going to drop directly onto their arena from the clouds. We will challenge every single Alpha at the same time."