“We're running out of time,” Ronan said, his voice firm. “But every second counts. If you’re going to help me retrieve those rings, you need to learn how to use them properly.”

  Elion wasn’t sure what properly meant when it came to something as insane as the Beast Rings, but Jordan, as expected, grinned like a kid about to be handed his first sword.

  "Come. Come. I'm ready, Ronan," Jordan said excitedly.

  “Sit,” Ronan instructed, motioning toward the ground. “Cross your legs. Back straight.”

  Elion sighed but did as he was told, settling onto the cold stone floor.

  Jordan plopped down beside him with far too much enthusiasm.

  “Alright, cowboy, what’s next?” Jordan asked. “Do we meditate? Do we summon a spirit guide? Will I start glowing? Oh man, am I gonna glow?”

  Ronan ignored him. “I’m going to transfer the knowledge to you.”

  Elion frowned. “Transfer?”

  Jordan raised an eyebrow. “Like a brain download? Are we about to get, like, Matrix-style kung fu knowledge?”

  Ronan smirked. "I don't understand you."

  He then let out a heavy sigh before adding, “But if it helps… Something like that. The Matrix thing.”

  Without another word, he pressed his index and middle fingers against their foreheads.

  Elion had exactly one second to think this was weird before the world around him vanished.

  He wasn’t in the cave anymore.

  He wasn’t anywhere anymore.

  Everything was white. Endless. Empty.

  Suddenly, a voice spoke. It was deep and strong, like a narrator from an ancient documentary.

  "Across the universe, there are things that humans were never meant to possess.

  Such a thing was the Beast Rings."

  The words echoed through the void, heavy with an unseen weight.

  Elion had little time to react before the bright light around him cracked. He felt like he was standing in an endless void, but the world was still changing. It was splitting apart.

  Then—rings.

  A collection of rings floated in front of him, perfectly still and pulsing with energy.

  White. Yellow. Green. Blue. Red. Black. Gold. And others—colors he couldn’t even name, shifting between shades as if resisting definition.

  Each one thrummed with energy that sent an unnatural chill down his spine.

  The voice continued, emotionless yet carrying the weight of entire ages.

  "To some, they were miracles—gifts of power beyond mortal imagination. To others, they were cursed relics—born from ambition and soaked in blood. But no matter what name history gave them, the truth remained absolute.

  They were never meant to exist."

  A pulse rippled through the space, and suddenly—Elion was watching rather than listening.

  The world unraveled before him, revealing war.

  Not just a war between armies but between species.

  Beasts and humans are locked in battle.

  The voice did not waver.

  "Before the first rings were forged, the beasts ruled the world."

  "They were not just animals or mindless creatures. They were gods in human form—rulers of land, sky, and sea. Some walked as men, intelligence gleaming in their eyes. Others towered as titans, their bodies wreathed in armor and flame, shaking the earth with every step."

  Elion felt his breath catch as he saw them—creatures of nightmares and legends alike. Some had claws that could cleave mountains. Others had wings vast enough to blot out the sky.

  And before them, humans stood.

  Fighting.

  Dying.

  "For centuries, mankind fought. And for centuries, mankind lost."

  Elion saw it—numerous battles, desperate defenses crumbling under overwhelming force. Humans wielded various weapons and shields crafted from their finest forges.

  Among them, the gifted few commanded the elements themselves—hurling fire, shaping wind, summoning storms. They were known as the sorcerers.

  It still wasn’t enough.

  No matter their weapons. No matter their numbers. No matter their spells.

  Everything from the humans was levels below the beasts.

  "They burned their cities to keep the beasts at bay. They carved the sky with lightning and shattered mountains with magic. And yet, the beasts endured. Mankind, however, did not."

  The images shifted. Where there used to be armies, there were now only ruins.

  Elion clenched his fists. It was hopeless.

  Then the voice spoke again.

  "Until one man changed everything."

  And there he was.

  The First Crafter.

  A single person stands in the ruins of a war. He was cloaked in shadow and surrounded by the bodies of fallen creatures. In his hands, he held something new.

  A glowing stone.

  Not just any stone.

  A heartstone—the core of the beasts.

  "His name was lost to time, but history remembers his title—the First Crafter or... the First Slayer."

  Elion’s pulse pounded in his ears. 'Slayer? Ronan had mentioned this once.'

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "He was no sorcerer, no king. He did not lead armies or use magic like others. He was a scholar who sought to understand instead of fighting. And in the depths of forgotten ruins, he uncovered the forbidden art not from the world."

  "The Beast Slaying Art."

  The scene shifted, revealing knowledge that had long been erased from history.

  Elion saw the First Crafter not in battle but in study. He did not charge into war—he watched it. He studied the Beasts, their movements, their strength.

  And most of all—he studied their heartstones.

  The shimmering cores pulsed within the beasts' bodies. The source of their power.

  No human had ever dared to tamper with them.

  "To steal a heartstone was to invoke the wrath of the gods. No man could survive such a crime. No man should survive."

  But the First Crafter?

  He did not just steal them. He forged them.

  Elion watched as the heartstone in the man’s hands changed—its shape warping, shifting—becoming a ring.

  A Beast Ring.

  The first of its kind.

  The voice grew heavier, as if even speaking of this moment carried an unbearable weight.

  "It was a sin against the natural order. It was a power that no human was ever meant to wield. But desperation breeds madness. And so, the First Crafter did what no one had done before."

  "He took the power of the beasts for himself."

  Elion saw it happen.

  The ring slid onto the man’s finger.

  And the moment it did—he changed, not into a beast, not into a monster.

  Something in between.

  "With the Beast Rings, man gained what was once untouchable. The power to fight. The power to rule."

  The images flashed again.

  The First Crafter unleashed a storm of power, unlike anything Elion had ever seen.

  With his newfound strength, he tore through the battlefield—moving faster than any human should, striking with the force of a monster ten times his size.

  The tides of war shifted. For the first time, humans were winning.

  "And so, the Beast Rings spread. The warriors wielded them. Armies rose. The beasts, once the rulers of all, became the hunted."

  Elion felt a cold realization creep into his bones. This wasn’t just a story about survival. This was a conquest. And it wasn’t the beasts who had been the conquerors.

  It was humans.

  However, the scene darkened. The voice’s tone deepened.

  “What… is this?” Elion was surprised to see the next scene. "Why is this happening?"

  "Power is a hungry thing. It does not satisfy. It does not soothe. It only demands more."

  "And the Beast Rings? They were no different."

  The voice carried through the void, vast and unshaken, as if it had been telling this story for eternity.

  Elion could do nothing but listen as the past unraveled before him, painted in light and shadow.

  The images came in waves—kings and emperors, sorcerers and warlords—all reaching, all grasping.

  "Word of the Beast Rings spread like wildfire."

  "They were no longer the guarded secret of a lone craftsman. They became legends. Desire. Obsession."

  Elion saw it—kingdoms shifting, rulers turning their eyes toward the impossible power that had been forged. Some sought it for salvation.

  Others for conquest. But in the end, the desire was the same.

  To own. To command. To rule.

  The First Crafter had shared the rings with human kingdoms and empires... but something worse happened.

  "Kings, emperors, warlords, and sorcerers all wanted them. Armies clashed, not for land nor for gold, but for the rings. Kingdoms rose in glory and crumbled into dust because of them."

  The battlefield flickered before him. Soldiers, clad in gleaming armor, lunged at one another with beast-like speed and ferocity. Their bodies and weapons struck with the power of the beasts.

  When things seemed to favor the humans, then—

  "Came the betrayal."

  Elion shivered as the scene shifted. The First Crafter—once the savior of humankind—now stood alone. Not against the beasts. Not against the monsters of the world.

  Against his own kind.

  "The First Crafter was hunted. Not by the beasts he once fought… but by those who had once called him an ally."

  The sorcerers, the kings, the emperors—those who had sworn to use the rings for humanity’s salvation—now saw him as a threat.

  Elion saw them gathering in the dark. Men and women of immense power, cloaked in royal silks and enchanted armor, wielding staffs and swords that gleamed with stolen magic.

  "To them, the First Crafter was too dangerous. Too powerful. If one man could command such strength, then who could stop him from ruling them all?"

  Elion felt his pulse race. He had seen this pattern before. History repeats itself again and again.

  "They were driven by the same forces they once sought to resist. Fear. Greed. The need to control."

  The First Crafter, for all his knowledge, for all his power, could not stand against an entire world united against him.

  They came for him in the dead of night, their forces vast, their numbers overwhelming.

  "They struck as one—sorcerers, kings, warlords. Those who had once bowed at his feet now sought to break him. To take from him the very thing they had once praised him for."

  Elion saw the battle unfold, a blur of violence and desperation. The First Crafter did not fall easily.

  "Even cornered, even outnumbered, he fought. Wielding the power of Beasts long since slain, he tore through his betrayers like a storm through brittle trees."

  Elion saw him move—a shadow among fire, his rings glowing with the power of creatures long dead. A dragon’s fire roared from his fists. A wolf’s speed carried him through the battlefield like a phantom. A titan’s strength shattered stone and steel alike.

  But in the end—

  "He was only human."

  The battle ended. The First Crafter fell.

  Elion’s breath caught.

  "Some say they tortured him—ripped the knowledge from his mind, piece by agonizing piece."

  A flicker of agony flashed through the images—chains, blood, whispered secrets wrenched from unwilling lips.

  "Others say he gave it willingly, hoping his knowledge would bring an end to the war between man and beast."

  A different image—one of quiet surrender. A man who, even in defeat, believed he had done what was necessary.

  Elion swallowed hard.

  "Most believe the latter, for how else could they have defeated him?"

  The scene shifted again. The First Crafter was gone. But his knowledge—his legacy—remained.

  "And so, the art of Beast Slaying was no longer his alone."

  The voice grew darker, edged with something more dangerous.

  "At first, humans used the Beast Rings for what they were meant to be—tools to slay the creatures that once terrorized them."

  Elion watched as warriors donned the rings, facing down the towering monstrosities that had once ruled the world.

  And they won.

  One by one, the beasts fell. But the rings remained, and humanity was never satisfied.

  "The rings were made to slay beasts. But soon, they became something far worse."

  Elion saw it. The shift.

  The moment humans stopped using the rings against the beasts… and started using them against each other.

  "With every beast slain, another ring was forged. With every ring forged, another war began."

  Elion’s stomach churned. It was inevitable, wasn’t it?

  With that kind of power, how could anyone resist?

  "What had begun as a means of survival became a tool of conquest. Kingdoms and empires fought over the rings. Sorcerers betrayed their own. Blood was spilled, not for freedom, but for dominion."

  He saw armies tearing into each other, wielding the power of beasts that had long been extinct—fire, ice, storms, all at the command of men who had forgotten why they had ever fought in the first place.

  "The balance of power shifted. Humanity—once prey, once victims of fate—now stood as equals to the beasts."

  Elion exhaled sharply.

  "But equality was not enough. For both sides."

  The voice did not pause.

  "Humans had clawed their way to balance. But balance was never what they wanted."

  Elion saw it—the battles that continued long after the beasts had been driven back. The warriors wore their rings not in defense but in the pursuit of something more.

  "None wanted to be equaled. None wanted to be ruled."

  Elion’s stomach twisted.

  Because he already knew how this story had ended.

  Elion barely had time to absorb it all before the vision changed again. Now, he saw a human body glowing faintly.

  Lines of light traced along it, forming a path of energy.

  "Don't be surprised," Ronan’s voice cut through the air. "And... sorry to cut this history lesson short. We're short on time. I need to get to the main part now."

  Without wasting another second, Ronan added, “To wield a Beast Ring, you need to open your Mana Gates.”

  The glowing figure pulsed.

  “There are 118 Mana Gates in total. The more you unlock, the stronger your connection to the ring.”

  Elion watched as three specific points lit up—one at the base of the spine, one in the chest, and one in the forehead.

  “These are the first three you need to open. To at least be able to wield a Lower Beast Ring. Without them? The ring will tear your body apart.”

  Elion was then shown how to open them.

  The figure took a deep breath, hands forming a precise shape. The energy in its body began to move. The first gate shattered open. A rush of power flooded through the figure.

  To Elion's surprise, he felt it, too.

  Even though this was just a vision, he felt it. The sensation.

  Then, suddenly—everything snapped back.

  Elion gasped, body jolting as if he’d just been shocked. He was back in the cave.

  Jordan, beside him, looked equally shaken, his hands twitching. He stared at Ronan. His expression was hard to read.

  “What was that… How did you… do it?” Jordan asked.

  Ronan pulled his fingers away, smirking. “Welcome back.”

  Elion’s breathing was ragged. His heart raced.

  Knowing that Ronan was not going to explain what and how everything happened, Jordan let out a shaky laugh. “That… was… insane.”

  Ronan leaned back, arms crossed. “Now you know. But... The question is…”

  His eyes gleamed. “…Are you ready to open your first Mana Gate?”