He could always see the beast.

In the forests of Caliban, in the rocky sandy land, in the quietest and hotest sparse moonlight without even a hint of wind, the beast existed, breathing, longing.

It lives in his dreams.

He could see it.

It weaves through the low jungle, its sharp claws tucked into the flesh-paddled soles of its feet, its thick skin and fur swaying through its dense nets like thistles, like an eel weaving through the rocks of the sea, its white belly almost clinging to the ground, allowing its two sturdy hind legs to continue its majestic strength, its stiff tail constantly waging from side to side, whipping the dirt beneath its feet.

In this way, it walked silently through the dense forest, like a dark shadow, exuding a heavy smell of hunger and bloodthirstiness.

The gigantic head came deep into the dense bushes with a rustling sound, the thick mane wrapped around the fragile neck and almost hung down to the ground, and along with the hairs kissed the ground, and the foul-smelling murmuring saliva, dripping into a stream.

The beast walked in the shadows of the high forest, driven by endless hunger and bloodlust, bringing lingering shadows to countless lands and trickles, and wherever it went, great shadows obscured the last rays, except for the pair of glowing green pupils, exuding the majesty of a predator.

It looked over.

It's hungry.

It craves meat, bleeding flesh.

Driven by the most instinctive desires, the king of the deep forest set his eyes on the fallen tree, on the strange creature standing in the moonlight, the thing no taller and stronger than a lynx, and he fell from the sky and crawled out of the round metal that had overwhelmed countless forests.

He looked at it.

Then clenched his fists.

——————

Slash.

Constant slashing.

Wielding the freshly sharpened stone, the most hazy instinct in his mind guided him: to make it, to lift it, and to use it until he saw blood running everywhere, until there was no more foul-smelling exhale, a sign of safety.

Johnson remembers it all.

He's the attacker.

He pounced on the beast, the king of the deep forest large enough to easily devour a mortal, like a great lion, or like an awakened giant bear, perhaps five meters tall when it stood upright.

But that doesn't matter.

It is meat.

That's all.

As he approached, he could see the consternation in the cloudy pupils of sheer ambition, followed by a savage rage, the primordial anger of the highest predators when provoked, one of the laws to be observed to survive in the deep forest.

The roar of the Beastmaster echoed through the deep forest, the sound of twisting and fighting lingering in the valley after valley, and the towering trees collapsed with a bang, witnessing the merciless moonlight from high in the night until it slipped down to the sky.

The huge palm that was enough to smash the rock slammed into his back, making Johnson's identity tremble, but he didn't react in the slightest, just held the sharp stone high, lifted it again and again, and smashed it down again and again.

The thick skin cracked, blood flowed, and the flying hairs were like a foul-smelling wild snow, revealing pale spine.

It roared, twisted, struggled, and its luminescent green pupils lit up with a sparkle of survival.

But Johnson just swung it.

Swing, swing, swing again.

It wasn't until the sharp rock finally cracked completely in the thick fur that he could no longer use it, and he held the remains of the first tool in his hand, and for a moment, he fell into a certain confusion.

Until he heard the roar, the weak, staccato roar, coming from under his feet.

The beast is not dead.

It's not over yet.

At the urging of some instinct in his heart, he threw the stone far away, and then he found his most wonderful tool.

He raised his fist.

Hold it high.

The most feared force fell on the beast's body, and he swung it selflessly, punch and punch.

He could feel that he had smashed what was left of the intact fur and pulled out the almost minced internal organs from it, and the multitude of skeletons had long since turned into a pile of fine powder, with the last of the blood, flowing all over the ground.

But it still didn't die.

He couldn't stop.

He climbed up to its head, and the dying beast seemed to sense something, and it raised its head with all its might, and let out a low sound like a wild dog.

But it was already too late.

He tore through the thick mane and bit into the softest of throats, the stinky hair flowing down his throat with luscious blood, and his pupils lit up, also fluorescent.

At that moment, he felt it.

Life.

——————

But despite this, the behemoth did not die.

It wandered through his dreams.

When night came, it walked through the deep forests of Caliban, and so did he.

——————

A hoarse roar was heard.

Johnson opened his eyes and saw an endless tide of beasts tearing through the veil of the deep forest, and these bloody flesh-eaters formed an unstoppable wave, their pupils a void of scarlet.

He raised his sword and swung it.

Not them.

They were far worse than the beast.

——————

You have watched my heart. 】

He wasn't asking, he was sure.

The deep forest was silent, silent in the corpses of countless beast tides, silent in the smell of blood.

[I have ordered Asmodeus to cleanse your memory more than once, but apparently he is not capable enough for such a task. 】

[This is my responsibility, I have given him a task that he cannot accomplish, and I overestimate his strength. 】

[I understood all this when I was in Wollaston, and in Bileven, it only made me more convinced that a psyker capable of destroying Titans and warships could not be so docile, and that your power was borrowed from a hurricane borrowed from the most violent seas, and how could it be as weak as an early morning breeze. 】

He spoke, sword in hand, and slowly advanced across the muddy ground strewn with rotting leaves, the sparse light shining through the layers of foliage on his face like the stars of the night favoring a lion under the moon.

The deep forest was still silent, and only the faint sound of laughter could be heard in the farthest valleys.

Johnson kept going, splitting the decaying things that stood in his way, shattering the vines that might have been reproducing freely for hundreds of years in the edge of his sword, and he went and destroyed, just as the greatest king of Warcraft was rampage through his own territory.

The instinct of the beast guided him, and he moved forward in silence, but a terrible smile burned into his face.

He split another natural wall made of giant trees tens of meters high, and finally, a wide enough field appeared in front of him.

It was a hollow, a bone pit, a most efficient hunting net.

Layers of pale silk spread across every corner of the dimension hundreds of meters, wrapped in the shriveled corpses of countless insects, reptiles, and even carnivores, and it was no surprise that this was the most successful hunting net, a treasure trove of gold in the deep forest.

And its owner sat on the throne in the center of the trap kingdom, the largest spider the lion king had ever seen, it was pale, black markings adorned the huge belly pouch, with twelve compound eyes like dirty blood gems, and an equal number of slender limbs, calmly controlling each thread.

The monster, which only appeared in nightmares, slowly raised its head, the corners of its mouth and fangs still holding the juice that had been used to suck its prey.

It spoke, and it was the cold, mocking voice that Johnson was all too familiar with.

[Welcome to you, Son of the Forest.] 】

[Before it all begins, maybe we can have a brief chat.] 】

——————

"I thought you'd be braver, Morgan. 】

[I am not Magnus. 】

[Again, I thought you would come alone, Lord Johnson. 】

"I am indeed alone. 】

Two laughs echoed through the deep forest at the same time, one as indifferent as an iceberg and the other as hoarse as a beast.

——————

As soon as the laughter ceased, Johnson's eyes could not help but glow with vicious hatred, for he was witnessing a rather blasphemous scene.

The pale spider's head opened and cracked with all its might, and let out a laugh devoid of emotion and tone, and when the laughter ended, the skull exploded completely.

A graceful woman's upper body came out of the crack, and it was crowned with a perfect head, and her long hair covered most of her body, but if you looked closely, you would find that this beauty, who was only half of it, was a complete shadow, and she had not seen a single strand, because all the mysteries had been occupied by the infinitely distorted mass of shadows, and turned into a mass of the purest darkness.

She had no facial features, no limbs, only endless darkness taking over everything, as if a black human model could not be more sophisticated, cleverly placed on the pale body of a spider.

Johnson's pupils flickered, it was the flame of witch hunting burning, and for a moment, he couldn't wait to burn something.

[You can choose a more rational puppet. 】

[It's a shame that all the education I was born with was killing and devouring, and nothing else, Lord Johnson. 】

If Nemir does not disappoint me, then I should be sure that you were born into the world as a princess of a kingdom, and as the daughter of a king, your words seem extremely pale. 】

[There is a difference between kings and kings, Lord Johnson, some kings just want to do everything in their hands, so that every land in his sight will start to burn. 】

The genoplasma fell silent.

The lion narrowed his pupils, and he stood with his great sword on the ground, standing about ten meters away from the strange beast, a perfect position to shoot and retreat.

[Then ......]

[What do you want to talk about?] 】

[A very simple topic, Your Excellency Johnson, you will be interested in it. 】

——————

[You know...... Commander? 】

——————

Warmaster。

The word raised Johnson's brow.

[If you only use a few improvised words to maintain the riddle you don't know, then this conversation is coming to an end at this moment, my psionic advisor, you know my attitude. 】

The great sword stood on the ground, flipped slightly, and reflected a shocking light.

[I do know it, but I look forward to your answer, Lord Johnson.] 】

[Battle marshal? What does that mean? 】

The Lion King spoke again, but this time, the syllables between the words lingered between his words for an extra moment.

[Literally, Your Excellency.] 】

The spider girl continued to speak, and for a moment it was impossible to tell if it was the corpse of the spider making a sound, but the simple shadow girl was exuding her own will, or, just the power of psionic energy, so that the voice crossed countless dimensions and spaces, and came along with the faint birdsong on the skyline.

[If the Lord of the Empire is able to allow the Sealbearer to become the de facto administrator of the Empire, the master of all bureaucratic, tax, and political matters in the Universe, what reason is there not to entrust the honor and responsibility of the Great Expedition to a truly great commander when he chooses to return to Holy Terra for something? 】

Johnson was silent.

[The expedition of the empire burns the galaxy, from the most sacred throne to the most faint abyss, there are tens of thousands of wars ignited in the name of this great expedition every moment, and the person who oversees this expedition on behalf of the emperor is undoubtedly the master of all wars, and it is ......]

【Warmaster……】

The voice echoed for a long time, echoing in the deep forest, echoing in the valley, echoing in Johnson's chest, the sound beating at his mind and will, slowing his heart for a moment.

[Everyone will think that this is a great honor, a self-evident status. 】

Johnson was silent.

[But will there be true loyalists, what is needed to see this position is not the so-called infinite scenery......]

The fingers wrapped in the hand curled and clenched the blade.

[It is the most silent dedication, the firmest will, and the strongest ability......]

Johnson took a deep breath.

——————

[With the greatest loyalty.] 】

——————

[Enough! 】

Finally, he raised his head and roared.

The blade of the sword flew, like the sanction of the gods, easily slashing the blasphemous thing in front of him.

He roared, but his face was still as cold as a glacier that would never melt.

[I don't know where you heard these illogical rumors, because as far as I know, you are a psyker majoring in the psychic department, although your performance has never been consistent with this. 】

The answer to the genoplasm was still sarcastic laughter.

Will you inquire into the school of your brother Magnus's psionic powers, Your Excellency? 】

[Flim flam. 】

Johnson was not angry, because the reality was more terrifying.

He was laughing.

He sneered and raised the great sword.

[I don't care about your words, your expressions, your lies and frauds, I will learn from you what I want. 】

[After I caught you. 】

Well, to be honest, the actual results of this book were much worse than I expected......

10,000 followers, 4,000 earnings, 700 subscriptions......

Hmm, melancholy, lying on my stomach, I don't want to move......

(End of chapter)