Defiance of the Fall

The cultist captain had conjured an enormous domain resembling a gladiatorial ring made from flesh. It emitted the unmistakable weight of an Inner World, giving it a weight and power no Hegemon could emulate. It wasn't at the level of the real thing, not even a frontier Monarch's, but it was far beyond what Zac had personally experienced when sparring with Pavina.

Countless beasts poured from a dozen portals lining the coliseum. Zac initially thought them part of a skill because of their sheer numbers and matching energy fluctuations. However, he quickly realized they were actual, real beasts implanted with a Heart Curse. Or rather, they seemed to carry a piece of the Black Heart Cultist's curse inside their bodies.

All of them were Beast Kings, and they drew power from the coliseum through their curse, though it seemed to push them into a frenzied state. Oddly enough, the beasts came in all shapes and sizes. It was different from most beastmasters who, like Ibtep, focused on a specific type of beast to nurture. The only things that unified the motley pack were the nasty wounds covering their bodies and the dense stench of blood they emitted.

It made Zac think of the rituals to raise Remoulded and Reincarnators. Was the Half-Step Monarch doing the same with these creatures? Pitting thousands of beasts against each other inside World Rings, keeping whoever came out ahead? Raising the requisite number of Remoulded beasts had to cost a fortune, not to mention the time. Then again, was that a problem for a faction like the Black Heart Sect?

The beastmaster was no slouch himself. His aura was steady and refined, resembling the old generals Zac had encountered over the past years. The captain was undoubtedly thousands of years old, not another youth forcibly raised through the ranks. Like the pugilist, the beastmaster fought with his hands, albeit in a completely different manner. He'd entered a bestial transformation, only his aura and appearance made him seem more like a devil.

He was over six meters tall and had a hunched, bulky build. Six jagged horns adorned his head, and glistening scales had replaced his skin. His hands were oversized even for his stature, with claws the size of short swords. His aura held the familiar brutality of the wild, where the main Dao came from the Peak of Nature. It was a direction Zac had courted before deciding to cultivate Pure Life.

The ferocious swipes and bites weren't enough to suppress Kator. If anything, the Half-Step monarch couldn't keep up with the reaver's aggression. He was a force of nature that kept pushing forward, happy to trade blows for blows thanks to his extremely tough defenses. Chunks of flesh were constantly ripped off from the bestial captain's body as Kator sought an opening to finish the job.

However, the power of a Half-step Monarch couldn't be ignored, especially not one from a powerful faction like the Black Heart Sect. If Kator relied on superior defenses, then the cultist relied on superior regeneration. He was an unkillable alpha lording over his pack, with wounds rapidly closing and scabbing over.

Kator was caught between a rock and a hard place, failing to seize a significant advantage against the Half-step cultist while reinforcements continuously joined the fray. His skeleton armor was durable, but he had no choice but to exert some effort to thin the beasts before they overwhelmed him. Zac was well aware of how detrimental that was to an infighter relying on their Technique. The momentum kept getting reset, making it incredibly difficult to move the battle in their favor.