The Age of Primordial Beasts

Chapter 1

Humanity once ruled the Earth for thousands of years, basking in the glory of its advanced civilization. However, the same intelligence that made them proud could not suppress the darker sides of human nature—greed, selfishness, suspicion, and jealousy, among others. Ultimately, these flaws led to their downfall, leaving their planet in ruins.
After centuries of recovery, the Earth regained its vibrant colors and lush landscapes, yet its rulers were no longer the solitary humans. For unknown reasons, ancient beings from legends—gods, demons, dragons, ghosts, and beasts—began to emerge. The weakened remnants of humanity found themselves with no power to resist these formidable races, effectively silencing the “destroyers of the Earth.”
However, this fragile peace shattered within a millennium as stronger new races arrived. Initially dubbed "Monsters," they were later rebranded as "Primordial Beasts," beings of terrifying power that disrupted the established order and ushered in a new era known as the "Age of Primordial Beasts."
Desolate mountains and wild plains once dominated seventy percent of the land, where for centuries no humans or humanoids dared to tread. Now, in this land that could classify “humans” as endangered, stood the tall figure of Sir Aelric Whitehart. With a wry smile, he projected an air of indifference as if he would not care even if the sky fell.
The creatures that once ruled this land shrank back in fear, unwilling to approach this individual who bore no wild beastly traits. Sir Aelric strolled up to a vine-covered cliff, extending his right hand. The green tendrils parted to reveal an opening large enough for him to pass through.
With a bemused smile, he paused, seemingly reluctant to be there, but after a brief hesitation, he continued forward. The entrance closed behind him, as if the momentary appearance had been a mere illusion.
Inside awaited a long tunnel, utterly dark and void of any light. Yet, this darkness held no hindrance for Sir Aelric; it affected him not at all. If others were to enter, however, they would likely perish shortly after, as within those shadows lay an array of incredibly poisonous snakes, slithering along the ground, walls, and ceiling, a terrifying sight to behold.
The cave was also filled with a colorful mist, but it offered no promise of serenity; it was a deadly miasma. Any ordinary person who dared to touch it would dissolve into a pool of blood in mere moments.
To Sir Aelric, these dangers posed no threat—merely illusions to be ignored. Since he entered, the snakes had cleared a path, and the deadly mist kept its distance, always retreating at least a foot away from him, allowing him to walk with a calm and relaxed demeanor through the cave that could be a death trap for many.
After strolling for several minutes, a faint glimmer of light appeared, and the tunnel suddenly widened. With keen eyesight, Sir Aelric observed the cavern’s vastness—it rose three stories high, the walls smooth as if cut by sharp blades, scattered with a soft green glow that added an eerie ambiance.
As he stepped out of the tunnel, a beam of light erupted from beneath his feet, extending toward the cavern's center, leading to a massive stone throne. From beneath the throne, five beams of light of differing colors shot out, summing to six radiant lights illuminating the cavern’s interior.
It seemed Sir Aelric had anticipated this, as that familiar smirk returned to his lips. He approached the stone chair, but with each step, he seemed to hesitate slightly. By the time he settled into the throne, the confident grin had vanished entirely from his face.
When Sir Aelric rested his hands on the armrests, the vacant cavern responded dramatically. Rings of light radiated outward from the throne like ripples in water. Upon reaching the apex of the six beams, vibrant rays shot upward, reflecting against the smooth walls.
Gradually, these patterns of light and intricate lines began to form a hexagram-shaped pyramid—a complex, overlapping structure defined by two interlinked tetrahedrons.
Located at the center, Sir Aelric gazed intently at the intricate design emerging before him, more elaborate than any ordinary magic circle or spell, yet no admiration crossed his face—only a hint of resignation.
As the entire pyramid solidified, six glimmering gemstones, each the size of a bowl, rose from the ground at the hexagram's six points, pulsating with a rainbow of colors, circling the stone throne.
Sir Aelric’s expression shifted to one of weariness, as if the preceding events had drained every ounce of energy from him, compelling him to recline upon the throne, needing rest to regain his strength.
After a brief moment, he uttered softly, “Mother Elinor has given her decree. The fires of war are reigniting.” Instantly, the six gemstones blazed with light, and a surge of energy flowed back up through the entrance, restoring the cavern to its original dim light.

Chapter 2

The soft glow wrapped around him like a warm embrace, reminiscent of a family member's hug, providing him with a profound sense of comfort and security that allowed him to forget some of his worries and pains. In these moments, he felt an intense attachment, reluctant to let such feelings fade away.
“Is that you, Mother Elinor?” This thought surged within him. He had been through this experience several times before; however, as he grew older, these instances appeared less frequently, with the most recent one occurring at least three years earlier.
“It's time to venture out. You should see the world; head towards Earthmoon, and you'll find what you're searching for.” A gentle voice echoed, sounding as if it came from a distant place. Though faint, the words resonated clearly in his mind.
“Mother Elinor, what am I meant to find?” He wanted to call out, but just like every time before, the moment he actively tried to respond, the vision began to slip away.
A wet sensation brushed against his face.
As his surroundings became clearer, he saw a large furry head, tongue lolling out, licking him.
“You again, Howl the Wanderer. You’re ruining my peaceful dream so early in the day!” The clean, bright voice belonged to a boy dressed in animal pelts, atop him was a massive gray wolf, resembling a buffalo, busy with its affectionate licking.
The boy was situated in a vast valley surrounded by grand mountains. Apart from Howl the Wanderer, other wild animals coexisted in harmony here; various beasts mingled without conflict, creating an atmosphere of tranquility where man and beast intertwined like a paradise.
“Alright, Howl the Wanderer, I won’t play with you anymore. Mother Elinor just appeared to me, saying I should go out and explore. I think the time has come,” the boy said as he affectionately patted the wolf's head.
The gray wolf seemed to understand, letting out a soft, low whimper.
With a smile, the boy looked at the wolf and continued, “I wanted to check out the world anyway, and I've had dreams about traveling recently, as if some force is urging me to set out soon. So I’ll leave this place in your care.” Just as he finished speaking, a hint of reluctance flickered in his eyes. The thought of parting from his companions, who had been by his side since childhood, made him embrace the wolf tightly.
The wolf lifted its head and let out a howl, the sound echoing through the valley. Before long, many animals living in the valley came running out—bears, foxes, rabbits, and more, all gathering around the boy. One monkey even scampered from a cave, bringing the young man's water and rations that he had prepared for a long journey.
Gathering his things, the boy embraced each of his animal friends one by one. Despite feeling a profound sadness to leave them behind, his easy-going nature pushed him to wave goodbye, stepping away from the valley he had grown up in without looking back.
On the third day of the second lunar month in the year 8 of the New Era, Wakado Woods lay in the northeastern part of the central Kumbir Highlands, traversed by the sprawling Wakado River for over a thousand kilometers. The immense expanse of land, much of which had remained untouched by humans for hundreds of years, was populated by towering coast redwoods, firs, and numerous other unnameable trees that reached high into the sky.
With human footprints largely absent, various races found more room for evolution; towering mushrooms, some taller than people, sprouted alongside massive leaves that could double as sleeping mats. An abundance of unique new species emerged, leading to the development of this distinctive ecosystem.
A loud roar shattered the quiet ambiance, echoing from deep within the forest.
Young Edmund, who shouldn't have been here, gripped his hefty double-handed sword tightly, staring in astonishment at an unexpected visitor—an adorably small rabbit that had appeared before him.

Chapter 3

Young Lord Cronan de Gryphon, at just seventeen, was the sole heir to Lady Krida de Gryphon, the leader of the Ironblood Mercenary Guild. From an early age, Cronan had undergone unique training under his mother’s watch, honing his combat skills out of a passion for martial arts that far exceeded that of his peers. His present location was no coincidence; Lady Krida had ordered him to venture out for further honing, forbidding his return until he reached a higher level of mastery. The Wakado Woods had become his chosen arena for this critical development.
Cronan stood tall, roughly six feet, his well-toned muscles resembling those of a powerful leopard, a testament to his rigorous training. His tousled golden hair framed a youthful face, while his azure eyes sparkled with an intense fervor for martial prowess.
Before him, a seemingly innocent rabbit made his heart race more than facing any ferocious beast ever could. This small creature reminded him of the legendary Beast Master, Tobias the Swift—a name steeped in myth, known for incredible speed and devastating attacks.
Glancing back at the charred hole in the ground where the rabbit had charged moments prior, excitement and apprehension danced within him. "What a headache. Is this a stroke of luck or just bad luck? Running into such a ‘big’ rare beast from the old tales…" Cronan murmured to himself. Although Tobias the Swift was not considered a formidable beast, his legendary speed and ferocity made the young lord wary.
"Let’s give it a shot. If it goes south, I’ll have to pull out the big guns." Just as he prepared to spring into action, a strange shift in the air alerted him. The rabbit’s long whiskers began to glow, and in an instant, two bolts of lightning shot towards him.
Having kept a sharp eye on Tobias the Swift, Cronan rolled to the left the moment the light flared.
“Boom!” The ground where he had stood just moments before erupted into two half-meter-deep craters, the acrid smell of burnt air lingering in the aftermath.
“Good heavens, if I had reacted any slower, I’d be done for,” Cronan silently cursed himself.
Relief washed over him for his quick reflexes, but it was short-lived. A rush of air swept in behind him, followed by a terrifying roar that reverberated through the forest.
“Roar…” Another shockwave surged towards him, stronger and more menacing than before.
“Dodging again would just be cowardice. Time to fight back,” he resolved.
With renewed determination, Cronan gripped his sword tightly, twisting his body as he prepared to unleash his family's signature technique. Focusing his energy into the blade, it glimmered with a faint red hue, enhanced further by the momentum of his movement. He executed the "Ironblood Moon Slash," launching his attack to collide with the oncoming impact.
The ensuing explosion whipped up clouds of dust and debris, revealing a clash that sent shockwaves rippling across the terrain.
The force threw Cronan back, spinning him until he staggered two steps to regain his stance, his heart racing. Just as he readied himself, a chilling light flashed before him. Instinctively, he dove to the right, bringing his sword up in defense.
“Clang!” The thick back of his sword had already started to weaken from the earlier clash. Tobias the Swift thrust the momentum of its strike once more, and the blade cracked under the pressure, shattering. Cronan was thrown backward, crashing into a massive tree, the impact jarring every organ in his body and leaving him gasping in pain.
“What a disaster. I can’t believe I underestimated it. This creature is even stronger than the legends suggested—I’m really in trouble now,” he inwardly chastised himself, feeling the sting of blood seeping from a gash on his abdomen and trickling from the corner of his mouth.
Tobias the Swift seemed to revel in its advantage. Cronan gritted his teeth, his resolve steeling, “You filthy creature, just you wait. If you come closer, I won’t go easy on you.”

Chapter 4

The broken, heavy-backed dagger lay discarded on the ground as Lord Cronan de Gryphon pressed his right hand over his left gloved hand, clearly still contemplating his next move. Given his current injuries, it seemed he would only have enough strength for one final strike.
“Ah!” Tobias the Swift screamed as if something had struck him, his body careening into the trunk of a nearby tree with a sickening thud.
“What just happened?” Lord Cronan thought with a frown.
He could see that the right side of Tobias the Swift’s abdomen had torn open, a faint blue liquid seeping out. The cute visage of the young man warped into a ghastly expression that sent shivers down Cronan’s spine.
Letting out a strangled cry, Tobias yelped as an unseen weapon severed a tendril at his right ear.
Tobias's frantic movements were unmistakable; he was clearly on the verge of collapsing.
“Is that how it ends for you? I was all set to deliver my speech,” Lord Cronan felt a mix of relief and regret as he watched the swift warrior disappear into the distance.
With the threat gone, Cronan finally let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. But he couldn’t shake the lingering feeling of lost opportunity—he’d not gotten the chance to unleash his full strength. The wounds inflicted upon him were more serious than he had anticipated, and even with full power, the odds were not in his favor.
As the tense atmosphere began to dissipate, thoughts of gratitude rushed to his mind. Steadying himself against the tree, he called out in his booming voice, “If there’s a friend who helped me, can you please step out so I can express my thanks?”
The rustling of branches was accompanied by the sound of footsteps.
A young boy clad in animal-hide clothing stepped out from the shadows of the forest.
“I’m Little Gale. Are you alright?” The boy's clear, youthful voice carried a warmth that contrasted with the harshness of the moment.
Lord Cronan blinked in surprise at the one who introduced himself as Little Gale. He had assumed it was some skilled warrior who had come to his aid, but here was this younger-looking boy instead.
“Is this a joke?” Lord Cronan thought incredulously.
Little Gale seemed like a wild youth at first glance—tall and lanky, around five-foot-seven, with long, flowing black hair cascading down his back. He wore what appeared to be a garment fashioned from tiger fur, giving him a very primitive appearance.
Yet upon closer inspection, Little Gale had a strikingly handsome face, with perfect features framed by an oval shape, and his eyes sparkled like black gemstones, radiating an inexplicable allure.
“Are you okay?” came Little Gale’s curious voice again.
It took a moment for Lord Cronan to shake off his astonishment and respond, a bit dazed, “Oh, I’m fine, really. Hello, I’m Lord Cronan de Gryphon.”
“Is your wound serious? Let me take a look.” Little Gale smiled brightly and examined Cronan, who appeared to be of a similar age, though much larger in stature.
“Ah, it hurts, it hurts…” Lord Cronan grimaced as he remembered his injury and sank back down.
Quickly, Little Gale rushed to his side. Much to Cronan's dismay, he noticed that his clothing was soaked in blood, revealing a gaping wound at the side where the skin was torn away enough to see the stark white of his ribs. Blood continued to flow, causing Cronan to pale visibly; it was clear how sharp Tobias's attack had been.
Little Gale immediately rummaged through a small pouch he carried, retrieving an unfamiliar dried herb before plucking two more with red leaves from the ground. Chewing them together, he applied the mash to Lord Cronan’s injury.
“Wow, he really is a wild boy, using herbal remedies,” Cronan mused, then felt a refreshing chill spread across his wound, dulling the throbbing pain.
“Ah, that feels so good! What kind of medicine is this?” Cronan asked, genuinely curious as he knew little about herbs; in his world, knowledge of healing plants was reserved for wanderers who lived in the wild or specialized practitioners.
“I’m not sure; Howl the Wanderer taught me. It works wonders on wounds,” Little Gale said with a smile, looking around as if searching for something.
“Who’s Howl?” Lord Cronan couldn’t help but ask, intrigued by that whimsical name.
“My wolf friend!” Little Gale chuckled cheerfully.

Chapter 5

"Little Gale" replied cheerfully, his eyes glimmering with a hint of warmth—clearly, he shared a deep bond with Howl the Wanderer.
"Wolf..." Lord Cronan de Gryphon was taken aback. He knew many people had pets, but when his friend mentioned it... and looking at "Little Gale," he didn’t seem like just an ordinary friend.
"Exactly." Just as he finished his thought, Cronan was eager to express his curiosity about the boy. "What in the world is happening here? It looks like there are not just wolves, but tigers as well." Cronan pondered how to continue the conversation, feeling perplexed by this notion of having non-human friends; it was beyond his understanding.
However, Lord Cronan failed to notice that every little action from "Little Gale" was drawing him in, breaking down the defenses he hadn’t even started to put up. So when he witnessed "Little Gale" searching for supplies to help bandage him up, Cronan quickly pulled some bandages from his bag. Unfortunately, Little Gale’s method of wrapping his injuries was less than reassuring—it was hard to watch.
"Is 'Little Gale' all you go by? No last name?" Cronan asked, a flurry of questions swirling in his mind.
Having been raised under his father's strict teachings, Cronan excelled among his peers with his remarkable talent and sharp intellect. Although he was friendly and good-natured, he was quite adept at navigating the complexities of human relationships. The strange encounter with this bizarre boy made him wary, yet instinctively, he felt drawn to Little Gale's smiling demeanor—a rare occurrence outside his circle of close friends.
"Yeah, that's what my grandpa always called me, Lord Cronan." Little Gale seemed genuinely pleased to meet Cronan, maintaining his beaming smile, which may have contributed to Cronan's fondness for him; however, it seemed he was hiding something deeper.
"Don't be so formal. Just call me Cronan, and I’ll call you Little Gale." Cronan was unaccustomed to such polite address; these days, most people didn't pay much attention to titles unless they were pompous politicians or those living in cultures with rigid etiquette. To him, such formalities felt foreign and contrary to his approach to dealing with people.
“Okay.” Little Gale nodded dutifully, like an obedient child.
Observing Little Gale’s innocent expression, Lord Cronan felt the tension in his shoulders ease as he leaned against the tree trunk. "So, how did you end up here? This place is teeming with creatures, and it’s dangerous."
"Mother Elinor sent me here." Little Gale casually sat on the ground and replied without a second thought.
"Mother? I hope she’s not as twisted as my psycho father." Lord Cronan shook his head, dismissing the initial thought. Then he asked, "Who’s your mother? Does she know I’m in danger and specifically sent you to help?"
Little Gale scratched his head, seemingly stumped by the question. After a moment, a look of sadness crossed his face as he said, "I don’t really know..." This left Cronan even more puzzled. Just as he was about to pry further, he noticed Little Gale stiffen suddenly, sensing something. His demeanor grew serious, and Cronan couldn't help but ask, "What’s wrong, Little Gale?"
Little Gale held a finger to his lips, signaling silence, then sniffed the air and listened intently to the sounds around them. After a moment, his expression shifted drastically.
"This is bad! We need to get out of here—there's a horde of beasts closing in!" Confused, Lord Cronan was about to seek clarification when he heard faint noises that sent a shiver down his spine.
Before he could react, Little Gale was by his side saying, "Cronan, hop on my back—we have to run!" Realizing the extent of his injuries, Lord Cronan nodded and allowed Little Gale to carry him as they fled for their lives.

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