SSS: The First Legendary Beast Master

The scream echoed again. Bran breathed in deeply through his human nose. Even dulled, he could smell Tolk's leather armor. Beneath the fresh goblin blood lay older scents. Wolf blood. His pack's blood.

"We split up." The words came easily. Natural. Like suggesting prey walk into a trap. "Cover more ground."

"Convenient." Tolk's lip curled. His hand never far from his knife.

"He's right." Valik's voice carried the weight of command. He scratched his black beard. "Hana, you're with me. Take the red wolf."

Hana lit up at the suggestion and smiled at the indifferent Meera. Bran nodded at Meera.

"Bran, you and Tolk check the left tunnel. Black wolf with you."

Meera's eyes fixed on Bran, suspicious. By now she was sure he'd seen her thoughts the last two days - her desire to tear out human throats. Revenge. But she believed him too soft. Too much like the old Bran. Too concerned with safety. Now she looked unsure.

"Go," Bran told Mace in thought. The black wolf's thoughts churned with unease, but he obeyed.

The left tunnel sloped down. Old mining rails glinted in torchlight. Tolk moved ahead, professional instincts overriding his suspicion. His knives caught the light. The same blades that had opened wolf throats.

For days Bran had watched them all. Learned their roles; tracker, trapper, throat-cutter. Hana tracked - reading signs, following trails. She'd barely touched his pack that night. Valik set the traps, herded beasts where they needed to go. But Tolk... Tolk was the throat-cutter. When the beasts were cornered, when they were helpless, he was the one who opened veins.

Every time Bran saw Hana sneak in at night to brush Meera's fur, he remembered the younglings. They loved Meera's red fur too. Every time he saw Liana giving orders, every time she smiled back at him, he thought of Ariana. He thought of justice.

They found marks near a cave entrance. Three deep gouges in the stone. To human eyes, random claw marks. But Bran saw the pattern. The Monarch of Prey's cipher. Meant for his elite soldiers. A den marker. A territory warning from a dangerous beast. Mace must've seen the marker too. Bran held out his hand. Stopped the confused Mace from wailing.

"Keep that thing on a tight leash boy. Don't think for even a second I will hesitate to cut it. Humans and beasts... unnatural. " Tolk spat.

Bran said nothing. Just watched Tolk study the tunnel ahead. The throat-cutter's back was turned. But his death would not come quickly.

The beast inside him – whatever he was becoming – wanted more than a quick death. Wanted Tolk to know fear first. To understand what it meant to be prey.

"Tracks lead this way." Tolk gestured with his knife. Always the knife. "Recent."

The cave opened into darkness. Water dripped somewhere deep inside. Bran felt the power stirring in his mind. Like the Monarch of Prey's dominating force. But something different. Something that was his own. Patient. Hungry.

A growl echoed from the shadows. Something massive moved in the darkness. The figure emerged slowly, deliberately. In the half form, Tolk misjudged it for a hunter. A seven foot tall, brown haired, bare chested hunter. That was until he saw the hands. Blood still stained its claws.

Tolk's knives appeared in his hands. "My gods, the rumors were true. It-it looks human!"

Bran stepped back. One step. Two. Just far enough.

The bear-kin transformed into full form. No longer humanoid. Large brown bear. Fifteen feet tall. It charged.

Tolk's first knife struck true, burying itself in the bear-kin's shoulder with a jump. The beast didn't even slow. Pushed him back. Its roar shook loose stone from the ceiling, the sound deeper than any natural bear. Closer to thunder.

The second knife flashed in torchlight. Found the bear-kin's eye. Blood and fluid burst from the wound. The massive beast reared back. This wasn't a normal bear that would retreat from pain. The Monarch of Prey's elite soldiers lived for it.

"Hey wolf boy. Don't just stand there!" Tolk reached for his third blade. His hands steady even now. Professional. Like when he'd cut Bran's pack apart.

Bran took another step back. Watched.

The bear-kin's paw swept out. Fast. Too fast for something so large. Tolk tried to dodge, but in the narrow tunnel there was nowhere to go. Claws longer than daggers caught him across the chest. Leather armor parted like paper. Blood sprayed the wall in an arc.

Tolk screamed. Not a death scream yet. He still had his knife. Still had his skill. He rolled with the blow, came up throwing. The blade sank deep into the bear-kin's throat. It was on all fours now.

Blood gushed black in the torchlight. The beast staggered. Any normal creature would have died. But bear-kin weren't normal. Especially not the Monarch's elite.

Its next blow caught Tolk's leg. Claws sheared through muscle and bone like wet clay. The throat-cutter's scream went higher. He tried to crawl away, fingers scrabbling at the stone floor. Leaving red streaks.

The bear-kin took its time now. Like a true predator. Like Tolk had done to Bran's pack. It seized his remaining leg in its jaws. Bones cracked. Muscle tore.

"Help me!" Tolk's eyes found Bran. Found Mace. The professional mask was gone. Only terror remained. "Please!"

Mace growled. Started forward. But Bran's hand found his fur. Held him still.

You can't, Mace's thought came sharp with horror. This isn't justice. This is—

The bear-kin's claws ripped into Tolk's belly. Steam rose from spilled entrails in the cold cave air. The throat-cutter's scream became a wet gurgle. His hands still reached for Bran. Pleading.

Still Bran watched. Patient. Like the Monarch of Prey watching his soldiers feed. Was this what he'd felt, standing over Bran's massacred pack? This detached fascination?

The bear-kin worked slowly up Tolk's body. Methodical. Precise. Each wound placed to maximize pain while prolonging death. The throat-cutter's eyes stayed aware far too long. Long enough to understand. Long enough to feel everything.

When it finally reached his throat, Tolk had no breath left to scream.

This is not our way Bran. This is 'his' way. Worse. Mace's thought dripped with revulsion. The Monarch kills for power. You are killing for pleasure.

The bear-kin turned toward them. Blood matted its fur. Turned its brown coat black in the torchlight. But it didn't attack.

Its eyes focused on Bran. He was holding out his arms in a criss cross. His fingers curled like he was scratching air. This was the Monarch's symbol for use in the half form.

Bran knew this symbol from Meera. He also knew that the Monarch had some human followers. Hopefully this soldier would assume he was one. If not, they would have to fight for their lives. Mace was already gearing up.

The bearkin took in Bran's scent. In his stillness, it transformed into the half form and mimicked the gesture . It then limped into the darkness without a word.

Water dripped in darkness. The hunt wasn't over. But Bran had learned something about himself. Something that scared him more than any beast-kin.

Mace's judging eyes found Bran's in the darkness. How would they explain the throat-cutter's death? The scent of Tolk's blood filled the tunnel. His torn body would tell its own story. One that would not align with the duo's visibly uninjured bodies. How could Bran have been so careless, so rash?

Bran's gaze fell on a crude axe dropped by one of the fallen goblins. Without warning, he snatched it up and struck Mace across the shoulder. The black wolf yelped in surprise and pain.

"Make it look real," Bran commanded through their link. "Tear into me. Make it wide and deep. Like we fought the bear together."

Mace hesitated only a moment before lunging. His teeth found Bran's arm. Drew blood. They fought in the darkness, inflicting careful wounds. Making their story believable.

---

Hana's arrow found another goblin's eye. The creature fell screaming. Each time a goblin fell, she looked back at Meera like a mother at her cub. How insulting. It was bad enough Meera was saddled with this foolish human girl, barely 12 cycles old. Now she had to face the humiliation of being treated like an egg. More shapes moved in the shadows ahead. The tunnel stank of their rot-sweet smell.

"There!" Valik's axe took a goblin's head from its shoulders. "Cave opening!"

Meera burst past them both. Her red fur glowed in the torchlight as she tore through two more goblins. She'd beaten the foolish girl to the chase. The tunnel widened into a natural cavern. Torches lined crude wooden supports. This was their den.

At the center, a hobgoblin throne. Their leader. But the hobgoblin chief's throne stood empty. Its massive occupant lay limp next to it. Throat torn out. Not by goblin weapons. Small claws.

"Fox-kin." Hana's observation carried through the cavern. She stared at distinctive claw marks on the corpse. "They were here. Recently."

"That explains the raids." Valik kicked a fallen weapon rack. "No leader means no control. The beasts must have killed him to set the horde loose. But why..."

A scream cut him off. They found what remained of Tessa's hunting party behind the throne. Two were dead. Tessa clutched at her leaking throat before her eyes finally glazed over. Valik covered her eyelids shut. The fox-kin had been thorough.

Metal clashed on stone. War cries echoed through the tunnels. The trio circled, backs to each other, weapons ready. A horde of goblins poured into the cavern. Behind them came something worse. Champions.

"By the gods. Hana, stay close!" Valik's axe swept up. "We're outnumbered!"

The two hobgoblin champions ducked to enter the cave. Each stood nine feet tall, with shoulders twice as broad as a man's. Muscles rippled beneath mottled green skin. They carried massive iron clubs studded with dragon teeth. One wore a necklace of human bones. The other's armor was made from overlapping metal plates torn from hunters' shields.

Hana's arrow flew true. Struck the born-adorned champion in the throat. The shaft sank deep enough to kill any normal creature. The massive hobgoblin just grinned, snapped the arrow shaft, and kept coming.

The horde surged forward. Valik's axe found goblin flesh, but for each one he cut down, three more scrambled over their fallen kin. They were being overwhelmed.

The armored champion's club swept out. Valik barely got his axe up in time. The impact still sent him sprawling. Goblins swarmed toward his prone form.

Meera tore through them, giving Valik time to regain his feet. But the bone-wearing champion was already moving. Its club crashed into the cave wall where she'd been a heartbeat before. Stone shattered. The impact shook the whole cavern.

"The supports!" Hana's voice cut through the chaos. "The wooden supports! If we can bring down the ceiling—"

The armored champion's club caught her square in the chest. The girl flew backward, struck the wall hard. She crumpled, gasping for breath that wouldn't come.

Meera saw the bone-wearer moving toward the fallen girl. Its club rose for a killing blow. The wolf lunged, but goblins grabbed her fur, weighing her down. She wouldn't reach Hana in time. It was fine. So what if the stupid girl died. But why did she suddenly feel afraid for her.

The girl wasn't helpless. Despite her crushed ribs, Hana rolled aside from the death blow. In the same motion, she drew her knife and hamstrung the massive creature. As it stumbled, she drove the blade deep into its knee joint.

The champion roared. Its club swept back for another strike. This time Hana wouldn't be able to dodge.

Then the girl did something utterly foolish and brave. She dove forward instead of back, inside the champion's reach. Its club whooshed harmlessly overhead as she drove her second knife into its groin, where the armor didn't cover.

The massive hobgoblin's roar became a shriek. It staggered. Dropped its club. Tried to grab the tiny human who'd hurt it so badly.

Meera finally tore free of the goblins. She launched herself at the champion's throat, but it batted her aside like a toy. Pain exploded through her body as she struck stone.

Through blurry vision, she saw Hana scramble up the stunned champion's body like a squirrel up a tree. The girl's third knife found its eye. Buried to the hilt.

The champion thrashed. Hana lost her grip. She fell as the massive creature toppled backward, its single remaining eye already glazing over.

The armored champion bellowed in rage at its brother's death. It charged toward Hana, who lay winded on the stone floor. The girl had no weapons left. No strength to move.

Something snapped in Meera's mind. This child had fought like a wolf. Had risked everything to bring down prey many times her size. Had saved Meera's life in the process. Maybe this one time she would make an exception and save a worthless human.

The red wolf forced herself up. Pain forgotten. She slammed into the charging champion's legs. Her teeth found flesh beneath the armor plates. Tore through muscle and tendon.

The massive hobgoblin stumbled. Valik's axe took it in the back of the neck. Not deep enough. It spun with terrifying speed, club sweeping out.

But now Hana had recovered her bow. Three arrows struck in rapid succession. Throat. Eye. Eye.

The champion swayed. Its club slipped from nerveless fingers. It took two steps toward them before its head slowly slid from its shoulders.

Silence fell. Dead goblins littered the cavern floor. Others fled into holes and back through tunnels. Both champions lay still. Their blood turned the stone black.

"You..." Hana coughed, clutching her ribs. "You saved me."

Meera limped to the girl's side. Surprised by the fierce protectiveness that filled her chest. This one was different. This one was worth protecting. Hana hugged Meera's neck. Meera let her.

"We need to move." Valik helped Hana stand, his voice gruff with pride. "Nothing survives a fight like that without friends coming to investigate."

They found Bran and Mace in the main tunnel. Both were covered in blood and wounds. Meera's nose caught the lie . Deliberate injuries, wide enough to pass for a bear-kin. Calculated. But the humans saw only two survivors of a desperate fight.

"Tolk?" Valik asked.

Bran shook his head. "Bear-kin. Too big. We couldn't..." He let exhaustion color his voice.

Meera's eyes met Mace's in the darkness. The black wolf's thoughts carried shame and worry. But also understanding. They were changing. All of them. The question was – into what?

The tunnel echoed with water drops and cooling metal. None of them spoke as they made their way back to daylight. Most of them lost in their own dark thoughts. Next to Meera, little Hana walked with a smile.