Chimera Rising: Beast King Ascension [How a human-turned-lion went from Zero to Absolute Ruler]

It was a happy Pride that followed Dominic back through the towering trees. Between the success in battle and the rewards, almost everyone was cheerful, their exuberance causing some of them to act more like cubs than full-grown adults. The kesh were barely even touching the ground, jumping and swinging from tree to tree. The only time they came back down to earth was when the distance between the trees was too great even for them. This time around, Dominic didn't try to stop them. Maybe those rawhide balls and the treats the kesh had had held some beast equivalent to caffeine. Either way, it seemed like only Dominic was concerned about the future.

But then, that had always been the case – the others lived far more in the moment than Dominic did. And he lived more in the moment now than he used to. Once more he wondered just how much he'd changed without even realising it. He wondered what his father would think of him. Or his friends if he ever saw them again.

Those thoughts brought his mood down even further and, as if in contrast with his people, the more cheerful they became, the more morose he felt. He walked beside Berion in silence, the elf the only one who also seemed less than joyful. Indeed, Berion seemed more than a little troubled.

In the end, more to distract himself from his own fears and worries than anything else, Dominic decided to broach the topic with the elf.

'What's wrong?'

Berion turned his head slightly to look at Dominic, then faced the front again. The lion was a little disappointed – so much for a distraction. He felt bad immediately – if he was just asking about a man's emotional state for the sake of distraction, then he probably didn't deserve to hear an answer.

But then the elf sighed a little, and spoke.

'I am concerned for the future of my people,' he admitted quietly. Dominic turned his head to eye the elf, but what he could see of the hunter's side-profile didn't reveal anything. Dominic looked forward again.

'Are you worried about your people swearing allegiance to me?' he asked, feeling a sense of awkward unconfidence. He couldn't blame Berion if he was – Dominic, after all, was a combination of a human who had barely seen two decades of life – and didn't even remember all of that – and a three or four year old lion. Even if the elves did know the details of his situation, he didn't doubt that they'd been able to tell he was still young which couldn't be the most reassuring to a people whose leader had been in power for at least the length of Dominic's life, and probably much, much longer.

He sensed Berion looking at him again but didn't turn his head to meet the elf's eyes.

'It is not that so much,' the hunter replied slowly. 'You have proven to be a powerful protector, and I have to hope that you will leave us to our own governance the majority of the time. Ilastir has informed me that you could have taken power even prior to the battle with the, ah, Beast Lord?' He seemed slightly uncertain so Dominic felt driven to confirm what he'd heard.

'Beast Lord candidate, but yes. When I joined the elven faction officially, because I'm a higher level than your leader, I got offered the opportunity to replace her as leader. Nyx did too,' Dominic added.

'Ilastir didn't tell me that,' Berion said, sounding surprised. Dominic suddenly had a thought: Berion must be more important than he'd thought if Ilastir was confiding such information in him. The lion had to guess that it wasn't common knowledge that the leader of the beasts could have taken over back then. 'But in a way, it is irrelevant. The fact that you did not take power when you were offered it gives me confidence that you do not simply seek to control us.'

'Do Pelir and Ruthror feel the same way?' Dominic couldn't help asking. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of them since coming back from the battle with the matriarch, so he didn't know how they were reacting to the new development.

Berion sighed and didn't answer for a long moment.

'We have been hunt-siblings for a long time. Liana was a recent addition, though Pelir knew her since she was a child. It was she who encouraged Liana to join us, and for us to accept her in our hunts. Ruthror was against it, but Liana was gifted enough to force him to accept that she belonged with us. Both she and Ruthror will feel her loss for many decades yet, and I cannot say that they like the idea that we are building closer bonds with the ones who killed her. Yet neither Ruthror nor Pelir are unintelligent. Nor are they youths who cannot see how the world has changed. Liana was excellent at tracking game and laying traps…but she was no warrior. None of us are. If the world had not changed, she would have been an excellent addition to our ranks. But as it was, she was forced into fights beyond her. It was only a matter of time before she died. Perhaps even if your Pride members had not killed her, she would have died in the dungeon that day. She almost had twice before, and this time we knew we needed to push as far as we could. We had intended her to be facing the trodils rather than the crocodiles, but even that route would not have necessarily been safe enough for her, especially if the party was not separated into two equal parts as we – and you – experienced. Perhaps the Spinners of Fate had decided that it was time for her cord to be cut.'

Berion sounded eminently sad, yet Dominic didn't sense any blame directed at either him or his Pride in his tone or the words themselves. Yet Dominic felt driven to say something.

'Look Berion, I'm sorry. I'm sorry she died. I'm sorry my Pride members killed her. Loss is…a terrible thing.'

'Loss is a part of living,' Berion replied contemplatively. 'The sun must die every day to be reborn the next. The seed must die in the ground to produce the plant, which in turn may die to produce more seeds. We kill beasts to nourish ourselves – it is hypocritical of us to complain when the beasts kill us in turn to nourish themselves. But as you say, it is still a terrible thing.'

Dominic felt even worse at Berion's words, though he didn't think the elf had intended that. After all, why did he kill? Not to 'nourish' himself, that hadn't been his main objective for killing for quite a while. He killed because he wanted to get stronger. How selfish was that?

'We have to get stronger to defend our Pride,' Leo reminded him in a rumble. 'The elf has said it himself – the world has changed. Once, perhaps we killed only for food. But now, we kill to survive as all around us grows stronger too.'

It was rare that Leo's words made Dominic feel better than before he'd started speaking, so he valued it when those moments came around.

'Thanks, Leo.'

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

The lion didn't deign to reply, as if the gratitude was just his due, but Dominic wasn't offended. Leo was Leo. Getting offended at his haughtiness was like complaining that the sea was wet – possible, sometimes even necessary for one's sense of wellbeing, but ultimately futile.

'So if it's not to do with your people swearing allegiance to me, why are you concerned about the future of your people?' Dominic asked. 'Is it this whole…soul-wound thing?'

'It is linked to that,' Berion admitted. 'I am sure we can not be the only settlement suffering. There are too few of our people who can safely become warriors or hunters. And even among those who are capable, not all choose to take on those roles. Not every elf can live in a city, but at the same time, there are not enough warriors to have a permanent contingent at every settlement. The teleportation network has been a vital resource for our people, allowing the king to send out warriors to even the furthest-flung regions of our kingdom, when needed. It was supposed to be eternal – unblockable, unbreakable, a divine gift to our land. Yet…'

'Now it's not working,' Dominic finished. Berion nodded.

'And now I fear for my people. For those caught, like us, with no warriors. For those in cities who rely on our food supplies. For the hermits who live away from communities in pursuit of perfection in their particular craft. Will they be slaughtered? Or will they pick up weapons to defend themselves and in doing so doom themselves all the same?' He sighed again, the sound weighty.

'But if one person picks up weapons to defend others, even if it 'dooms' them personally, isn't it worth it?' Dominic asked. 'Isn't expecting someone else to make all the sacrifices a bit unfair?' The more he'd been thinking about this soul-wound thing, the more confused he felt. Berion eyed him with surprise at his words, but then shook his head.

'If one part of the body takes on a sickness to save the rest of the body, is the rest of the body saved? Or must it excise the sickness in hope to save itself, and be forever lesser afterwards? It is better to ward off the sickness with a shield or a cure designed for it. That way, the whole body remains whole and healthy.'

Dominic would have frowned if he could. How was someone defending themselves and others the same as warding off a sickness? And what happened when there was no such shield or cure?

'Can you tell me a bit more about this soul-wound thing?' Dominic asked, wanting more information. After all, not every human was a fighter, but they could be. If their home was threatened, even children could pick up weapons and fight, for all that it might not be all that effective depending on the weapon. The person might be traumatised by the experience, but at least they'd be alive. Though Dominic was aware that some traumas could lead to long-term consequences. Was that what Berion was talking about? 'Is it…when your people kill, do they become…like, mentally damaged? Or traumatised or something?'

Berion looked steadily at him for a long moment.

'Not exactly…. First, I must be impertinent and ask you a question which I should not. But for the sake of my people, I ask it all the same.' He paused for a moment until Dominic gave him a short nod to continue. 'What is your decision? Will you accept the allegiance of my people, or will you turn us away?' He was blunt, but Dominic had to admit that he appreciated the elf not beating around the bush.

'I have a couple of concerns that I need to raise with your elders, but assuming I get satisfactory answers for those, then yes, I plan to accept the elders' request.'

Berion nodded slowly.

'Then I will tell you about our greatest shame,' he decided. 'For if you are to lead and protect my people, you need to know it.

'Once, my people were oppressed. We do not have any records of exactly what we were oppressed by – it seems that our ancestors attempted to wipe them away from history, perhaps as their final revenge. But what history does tell is that our people rose against their oppressors, and started winning their freedom. They were driven to produce the strongest warriors, the best crafters, and the most powerful mages, tested and honed in the crucible of war.

After driving away our oppressors, we turned our attention to making our planet safe for us. Others objected to our rule and so we destroyed them, justifying it as protecting ourselves. And then after destroying the sapient species, we moved to destroy the threats of the non-sapient species too. Even the smallest elven child could walk through the wilderness with no concern of being taken by a predator as we had taught them all to fear us so much. It was our golden age.' Despite his words, Berion's voice held no pride, only sadness.

'And then, when everything was peaceful, we found that we had a problem. What good were the strongest warriors with no one to fight? Who could our powerful mages use their battle magics on? What use were crafters who only knew weapons and armour? We had become hungry for war, addicted to it. And our addiction drove us to do something terrible. We turned on each other.

'Our people broke apart into squabbling kingdoms, each striving to prove themselves the strongest, the most powerful, the most inventive. The golden age had been followed by an era of absolute darkness.

'Our kind teetered on the brink of extinction, and due to all the destructive weapons and magics we had used, so did our world. We had destroyed the ecosystem, interrupted the cycle of life and death. Our fields were all but infertile, the resources of our mountains and seas plundered. We had proclaimed ourselves to be the masters of all, and then like the most ignorant of children, had destroyed what was in our grasp only because we could.

'A small group of elves had not fallen into this trap which had consumed almost all of our people. Once they had broken free of their oppressors, they had stopped there. They had created a community which lived with the land, not against it. Only defending themselves, never attacking. They had built a connection with the planet itself. And they appealed to Mother Terra for help.

'The tales tell that for their sakes, Mother Terra acted. She gave a gift to all elves that the small community had already earned for themselves – a connection to the earth itself. Through the connection, the fighting elves suddenly realised just what they were doing and the damage that they had caused. For every wound that they had dealt against the earth or those who lived in balance with it, they suffered just as much harm to their own soul.

'Some reportedly went mad and had to be killed when they started to rampage – they had done so much damage that their souls were entirely destroyed within seconds of the connection being made. Others killed themselves immediately, unable to live with the harm that they had dealt. Those who survived swore to dedicate their lives to making it right. Thus, started an era of sober responsibility and empathy.

'The connection to the earth stayed, even among the newly-born elves. It became clear that as a species we had changed. More plant, earth, and water mages were born with fewer tending towards fire, air, or more esoteric magics. It allowed us to revitalise our fields and replenish the resources of the earth. Our crafters sought to work more with materials that originate from beasts and plants, and less from metals, stones and crystals. And our warriors….

'Mother Terra realised that, like any species, we must still be able to defend ourselves. So, a number of elves are born with no connection to the earth – and that allows them to fight and kill without putting their souls in peril. Others, like me, are born with a weak connection which allows us to become hunters as long as we do not kill too many beasts and only with good reason for killing them. We are seen by some as remnants of a fallen age, reminders of what our people had once become. Sometimes elves are too ashamed to admit that their connection to Mother Terra is absent or weak, so they do not choose to become warriors or hunters. Which leads us to the present problem,' he finished with a wry twist to his mouth.

'A powerful story,' Dominic commented following long moments of silence after Berion had stopped talking. He didn't really know what to say. It didn't give him a lot more information than he'd had before, though it did warn him that the issue of Warriors was a bit more of a land mine than he had thought. He'd have to be careful with it.

Unfortunately, he didn't have the time to think too deeply about the story as they were leaving the tree line – and the elders were waiting expectantly.