Auron stared at the darkening sky, the stars above shimmering like distant sparks of fate. His eyes were fierce, steady—burning with the conviction that it was finally time. Time to break free from the Iron rank.

  Time to ascend.

  For most beast tamers, advancement was simple—at least in theory.

  When a tamer’s beast reached peak Iron Rank, they’d feed it a beast core from the next tier. An Iron-rank Blood Wolf would be fed a Bronze-rank Blood Wolf core. Rinse and repeat. It was a cycle—a loop of steady, predictable progression. Safe.

  And it worked. It worked because it mirrored nature. Beasts would grow by consuming their own kind—refining their bloodlines, pushing closer to their ancestral roots.

  Rarely, that path even led to something more.

  Like Elora Greyson’s Steel Wolf. When it broke into the Silver rank, it triggered a rare evolution, awakening the Golden Bloodline of the legendary Golden Wolf. A stroke of brilliance. A gamble that paid off.

  But that wasn’t the only way forward.

  It was just the safe one.

  The other? Lineage creation.

  A riskier method where tamers fed their beasts cores from entirely different species, forcing evolution in unnatural directions. Uncharted territory. Most feared it.

  But Dante didn’t.

  Auron smirked, thinking of the guy’s stubborn grin. Dante had fed his Steelback Boar the core of a Bronze-rank Lightning Eagle when it was still peak Iron.

  The result? A beast that now crackled with electricity, arcs of lightning dancing from its tusks like nature's wrath given form. It was deadly, chaotic… and it worked.

  But nothing came without a price.

  The boar had changed. It wasn’t a Steelback anymore—at least, not fully. More like some lightning-charged aberration. Whatever it was, it couldn’t evolve using normal Steelback cores anymore. It had forged a new path. A dead-end, or a legacy? No one knew.

  That was the gamble.

  For some, it led to explosive growth—mutated bloodlines, new skills, rare attributes. For others? A hard stop. Stagnation. Beasts shackled to a hybrid bloodline that refused to accept anything but rare, exotic cores. The higher you reached, the more uncertain the climb became.

  And that was the real problem.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Beast tamers could only contract a single beast until they hit Gold Rank—only then would their beast space expand to hold more. Which meant, one mistake… and you were crippled. Stuck for life with a freak that wouldn’t grow. No reset button.

  So, yeah. Most chose the conventional route.

  But not him.

  Auron didn’t have a beast. No contract. No partner. No chance of following either path, even if he wanted to.

  And that’s what made it exciting.

  He wouldn’t evolve by feeding cores to another. He would evolve by devouring them himself.

  The beasts he slew would fuel his body, his stats—until he could go toe-to-toe with a Bronze-rank monster and win. Not with tricks. Not with contracts.

  But raw power.

  And when that wasn’t enough?

  He’d push further.

  But first he checked out his system panel again, he had to confront something he had been ignoring for some time, his class, he had a feeling it would play a crucial role for his next part of the plan

  “System,” he muttered, standing still beneath the stars. “Display my stats.”

  The familiar blue screen blinked into view.

  ***

  SYSTEM INTERFACE

  Name: Auron Raventor

  Title: Peak Iron Rank Hunter

  Race: Human

  Class: None (Yet)

  Beast Contracts: 0

  Attributes:

  Strength: 36 (Your fists are now wrecking balls. Try not to punch walls… or people. Or both.)

  Agility: 30 (You're too fast for your own good. Literally.)

  Intelligence: 12 (Big brain, but still dumb decisions incoming.)

  Charisma: 8 (You're slightly less terrifying. Slightly.)

  Endurance: 20 (You can actually take a hit now. Progress?)

  Luck: 14 (At this rate, the universe is actively favoring you.)

  Unallocated Attribute Points: 0

  Skills:

  Stone Skin: Skill Progression – 85.6%

  ***

  Auron narrowed his eyes, lips twitching in irritation.

  “Class, huh?” he muttered. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Normally, the system would feed him information when he focused on something—stats, skills, traits. It would unfold in his mind like a second thought. But when he tried focusing on “Class,” nothing came up. No details. No hint. Just… None (Yet).

  He exhaled through his nose, fists tightening.

  Was it locked behind conditions? Some trigger he hadn’t hit yet? Or something worse—something broken?

  Either way, he couldn’t rely on the system. Not entirely. It was a tool. Not a crutch. And until he understood it fully, he’d

  play it cautious.

  That was for later.

  Tonight, he had one objective.

  To hunt, devour and grow.

  ***

  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.