Slipping out from the group wasn’t that hard—or at least, that’s what Auron thought.

  After clearing a spot in the ruins, his team had settled in for the night.

  As for lookouts, their contracted beasts would suffice. The tamers didn’t have the stamina of their beasts, and although their physical capabilities had improved when their companions evolved to Bronze rank, staying alert was still exhausting. Besides, if any unwelcome presence was detected, the team would be notified through the special link they shared with their beasts.

  That aside, Auron did his best to quietly slip away from the ruins, heading back toward the place where his team had fought the armored quadrupeds.

  That would be his first target for the night. Yet as he walked, his thoughts remained sharp, movements calculated. He knew the risk he was taking—hunting alone in the wastelands at night. Encounters with Bronze-rank beasts in this part of the zone were nearly guaranteed.

  And him being a supposed peak Iron-rank hunter didn’t help his odds.

  He wasn’t delusional enough to think himself invincible. If anything, every fight only reminded him how little he still was. His strength—or lack of it—was the root of the problem.

  But that wouldn’t last long. He intended to change that tonight.

  Snapping out of his thoughts, he realized he’d already arrived at the battlefield. The carcasses were gone—not surprising. The law of the jungle ruled here. The weak were stepping stones for the strong. Their corpses only served as nourishment for something stronger.

  Still, he was pleasantly surprised by how far his endurance had come. Before, using his boosted agility left a deep, lingering soreness in his body. But now, as he maneuvered through shattered rocks, he hadn’t even broken a sweat. Not yet, anyway.

  It left him wondering—what would it feel like when his stats hit the thousands?

  Just another reason to accelerate his growth.

  Back when they’d fought the armored quadrupeds, Auron had already concluded they were scouts. Low-rank Iron beasts—the bottom of the food chain—rarely wandered alone in these parts. Weak beasts had to live in packs to survive. And packs always had leaders.

  If that logic held, then the pack—and its leader—couldn’t be far.

  A distant howl confirmed his suspicion.

  Auron turned east, toward the sound.

  He adjusted his breathing, each step measured. He moved like a predator stalking its prey.

  It was time to farm some attributes.

  And if he was lucky, maybe a beast core or two.

  His senses sharpened as low, guttural growls echoed from the distance—multiple sources.

  And then he saw them—glowing eyes, circling in the dark.

  The hunt had found him first.

  ***

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Stepping out of the shadows, a pack of armored quadrupeds emerged—wolf-like creatures, only instead of fur, they had armor draped along their muscular frames in four segments.

  Auron squinted, straining his eyes further to estimate their total number—something he wasn't liking. Eight... ten, maybe... twenty? Whatever it was, he couldn't be sure, as what he was currently staring at wasn’t the other armored quadrupeds, but a beast among them. Unlike the others, it stood at what he estimated as a three-meter frame, with a body packed with pure muscle. Its armor wasn’t black like typical Iron-rank beasts—it was brownish, with streaks of red running down its armored spine that had crystal spikes jutting down to its tail.

  Without much thought, he gathered it was the leader of the pack.

  Yet among all its features, what unnerved him the most, was its eyes. It didn’t stare at him with mindless hostility like the other quadrupeds. Its gaze was icy and indifferent, a flicker of intelligence running deep within. As it should—after all, every step in evolution brought tamed and untamed beasts one step closer to full sentience.

  The only small comfort Auron found was the unstable energy swirling around the creature—a sign of a recent breakthrough. It would be a brutal fight, but not an impossible one.

  This preemptive observation didn’t take long—a maximum of five seconds. Earlier, Auron had been surprised to notice that his agility stats didn’t just influence his speed and motion, but also how he perceived the world. He was able to observe a shit ton of details from other beasts as if they were moving in slow motion—of course, that was only if his opponent had lower agility stats than he did.

  Pulling himself out of his thoughts, he mentally focused on his stone skill before he voiced out, “Activate.”

  Following that, a sensation of unyielding toughness flooded his entire body, as if it had been reforged from the toughest granite.

  But he didn’t have time to focus on these things, as the armored quadrupeds attacked.

  One pounced on him, aiming for his neck, its maw wide open, revealing a set of razor-sharp teeth that glinted under the moonlight.

  Instinctively, he raised his right hand in defense while leaning backward before its jaw could snap. Then he raised his stone-coated fist and punched right through its jaw, where he could’ve sworn he heard a crunch.

  A shriek echoed out in the Wastelands as the armored quadruped’s jaw burst open, teeth falling down as fresh blood sputtered on the ground.

  It backed away. Only this time, the raw primal hunger that had filled its eyes was replaced by deep fear. However, Auron didn’t back away. He couldn’t afford to show mercy to his enemies at this point—that would be equal to being ruthless to himself.

  Advancing forward using his boosted agility, he appeared in front of the armored quadruped and dealt a ruthless punch to its snout, which resulted in another spurt of blood before the beast collapsed with its mangled face.

  Before he could bask in the minuscule growth in his strength, he felt an iron grip on his left leg. Looking down, he saw a puzzled beast—its jagged teeth were clamped down on his thigh, yet no damage was dealt, its teeth unable to penetrate his stone skin. Without giving it time to change tactics, he slammed his right fist into its exposed head, punching a hole clean through, brain matter splattering away before it too collapsed.

  However, this time he almost didn’t feel the minuscule increase in his strength. Frowning, he looked at the charging pack before shoving those thoughts to the back of his mind. This wasn’t the time to contemplate such things. He would ponder later.

  Refocusing, the battle continued. The armored quadrupeds charged at him. His blood boiled in exhilaration. As the battle raged on, subtle changes began developing in his fighting style.

  Previously, he would just fight crudely—beasts would lunge at him, bite him, then realize they couldn’t deal damage before he’d beat the crap out of them. But as the battle frenzy continued, he began to move differently. No longer just absorbing hits and retaliating—he started dodging. Weaving. His attacks grew cleaner, more deliberate. A rough instinct was giving way to something sharper. He didn’t notice it consciously—but it was happening.

  Yet, as all this ensued, the Bronze-ranked armored quadruped stayed still, watching Auron commit a murder spree. Its gaze didn’t contain pity for its dead kin, but disdain that ran deep in its blood.

  The weak were only stepping stones for the strong.

  Without wasting time, it let out a deep, guttural growl, signaling for the rest of the pack to continue attacking.

  However, this time none responded.

  The rest of the armored quadrupeds backed away. Although not fully sentient, they understood certain concepts—one of them being certain death, which was foreseeable if they charged straight at this “creature” who punched through their faces and snouts, disregarding their fucking defense.

  Normally, when armored quadrupeds fought, their body structure favored them.

  Their bodies were fully armored in four segments, leaving only faint lines that interconnected their plates.

  Their only real vulnerability being the unarmored head. And even that wasn’t easy to exploit, thanks to their deadly jaws.

  Most beast tamers usually worked by first breaking their tough armor before killing them off, if an opportunity presented itself.

  Then there was Auron, who disregarded all this—attacking up front, uncaring of the beasts’ teeth, killing the hopes of beasts along with their lives when they thought they could penetrate his stone skin.

  The Bronze-ranked beast looked up at another armored quadruped. This time, it specifically growled, signaling it to attack.

  Seeing no response, it charged—not at Auron, but at the quadruped.

  Maw open, its jagged teeth closed on the quadruped’s neck, cutting smoothly, disregarding its armor, before turning to Auron. This time, its indifference was replaced with a cold killing intent.

  Auron gazed back, his gaze sharp—if not sharper—meeting the Bronze-ranked armored quadruped.

  He took a step forward.

  The Bronze-ranked beast mirrored him.

  He clenched his fists. analysing the bronze rank armoured quadruped again. This wasn’t just some overgrown scout. This was something that had survived, evolved, and killed enough to gain clarity.

  That made it dangerous.

  But it also made it valuable.

  Auron could already imagine it: the beast core pulsing in his palm, brimming with attributes. The stat boost would be massive—maybe enough to hit the next level threshold. Enough to push past the current bottleneck.

  Auron’s lips curled into a faint grin.

  “Let’s end this.”

  The beast responded with a thunderous snarl, earth cracking beneath its weight as it lunged.

  Auron moved, meeting its charge with a war cry of his own.

  Stone met armour. Flesh met fury.

  The true fight had begun.