1 – The Beast Wakes The muddy market outside Rain House stank of sour cheap ale and old sweat that never quite left the air.
“Harder.” Rek’Sai lay face-down on the wide oak-plank bed, the word rolling out of his throat like low thunder.
Two red-haired whores stood on his back, sweating hard.
They put their full weight into every step, grinding their heels into his spine, yet it felt like they were walking on cold iron.
Two-point-four meters tall.
Three hundred and sixty jin of solid mass.
Under the bronze skin, the muscle fibers looked like tightly wound steel cables.
“My lord… your muscles are too hard.
We really can’t press any deeper.” The woman on the left was panting, chest heaving.
Sweat slid down her cheek and dripped onto his shoulder blade.
Rek’Sai rolled over.
Both women cried out and dropped onto the straw mattress.
He sat up.
His broad shadow swallowed them whole.
The bed frame groaned under the sudden shift of weight.
He grabbed half a roasted lamb leg from the table beside him and tore into it with his teeth.
Canines shredded the crisp, yellowed tendons.
Grease ran down his chin.
The woman on the left reached out to wipe it away.
Rek’Sai’s eyes went cold.
He leaned forward slightly and let out a low growl from deep in his chest.
She snatched her hand back as if burned, face drained of color.
Rek’Sai laughed—loud, rough, genuinely amused—then turned his attention back to the meat.
One year.
It had taken a full year since this body woke on the edge of the Rainwood for the transmigrated soul to completely fuse with the Beast King Rek’Sai template.
Bones lengthened.
Muscle rewrote itself.
The agony of being thrown into a meat grinder and rebuilt had finally faded that very morning.
He was at his peak now.
Strong.
Rek’Sai wiped his hands on a scrap of rough cloth and tossed two silver stags onto the women’s thighs.
“Get dressed.
You’re done.” They grabbed the coins and their skirts like they had been granted a royal pardon and fled the tent in a panic.
Rek’Sai stood, picked up the two custom axes leaning in the corner.
The handles were carved from ironwood taken deep in the rainforest.
The blades were twice the size of a normal war axe.
He crossed them at the small of his back, ducked his head, and pushed aside the tent flap.
The noise of the market hit him full in the face.
“The cursed wildling’s out.” “Keep your voice down unless you want your neck twisted off.” Merchants and passers-by scrambled aside, clearing a wide muddy path.
Rek’Sai ignored them completely and walked with steady, heavy steps toward the Broken Sword tavern in the center of the market.
He needed strong drink to wet his throat, and maybe a job that paid in coin.
Enjoying life required gold, and he was a man who liked his pleasures.
The tavern door was low.
He had to bend almost double to force his way inside.
A wave of heat rolled over him—vomit, roast meat, unwashed bodies.
The place was packed.
Sellswords in battered mail, rainforest hunters wrapped in straw cloaks.
Rek’Sai went straight to the bar.
Every step made the wooden floorboards moan under his weight.
The noise died for a heartbeat, then resumed in carefully lowered voices.
“One ale.
Two pounds of roast.” He dropped three copper stars on the counter.
The one-eyed old man behind the bar moved quickly, setting down cup and plate without ever meeting Rek’Sai’s vertical-slit pupils.
Rek’Sai drained half the mug in one pull.
At the next table sat four men in cloaks bearing the arms of House Buckler of Bronzegate—three brass buckles on a blue field.
“King’s Landing’s lively again.
King Robert’s calling another tourney.” A soldier with a thick beard boasted loudly.
“Heard Lord Renly of Storm’s End is going too, bringing a hundred knights.” “Tourneys are just burning gold.
Better our work here in the Stormlands.
Kill that beast and fifty gold dragons are ours.” A tall, thin man patted the longsword at his hip.
“Fifty dragons aren’t easy.
That Boar King already killed three landed knights in the Rainwood.
Its tusks are longer than your blade.” Robert Baratheon’s fat arse was throwing another tourney.
Rek’Sai tore at the meat while he listened.
The plot of the show he had watched in his previous life flickered through his mind.
He had zero interest in the nobles playing their games on the Iron Throne.
Fifty gold dragons, though.
That number made him stop chewing.
“Old man,” he rapped the bar, “what Boar King are they talking about?” The tavern keeper swallowed hard and kept his voice low.
“A giant boar turned up in the Rainwood.
Nearly twelve feet long.
Few days ago it smashed a grain wagon belonging to House Mertyns of Mistwood and trampled a landed knight.
Lady Mertyns put fifty gold dragons on its head.” Rek’Sai’s eyes narrowed.
Twelve feet.
Almost four meters of wild pig.
Not ordinary prey.
Then the world in front of his eyes flickered.
Blood-red characters burned across his vision like living flame.
[Golden Finger fusion: 100%] [Beast King template fully activated] [Quest system online] [Available quest: Tame (Beginner)] [Description: You are a Beast King, yet you do not even possess a single battle pet.
Enter the Rainwood.
Find the infamous Boar King.
Do not kill it.
Break it with strength and will.
Make it your first battle pet.] [Reward: Unlock skill — Mend Pet] A dangerous curve pulled at the corner of Rek’Sai’s mouth.
Taming was far harder than simply cutting off a head.
He liked that.
Besides, the reward was exactly what he needed.
A Beast King who fought alone would not last long.
He needed absolute loyalty at his side.
“I’ll take the bounty.” His voice was low and heavy.
The tavern went dead quiet.
The four Buckler men turned and looked him up and down.
“You?” The bearded soldier stood, hand on his sword hilt.
“A wildling without even a house badge dares claim a prize House Buckler already marked?” Rek’Sai ignored him and finished the last of his ale.
“Hey!
You deaf?” The soldier felt insulted.
He drew his longsword and strode toward the bar.
“Being big doesn’t mean shit.
In front of real steel, all that fat just makes you die slower!” His three companions rose and spread out, half-surrounding him.
The rest of the patrons grabbed their cups and edged toward the walls, ready for the show.
No one was betting on the soldiers.
Some of them had already seen what this wildling could do.
“Move.” Rek’Sai set the cup down and spoke a single word.
“You’re dead!” The soldier roared and swung at Rek’Sai’s back.
Rek’Sai didn’t even turn his head.
His left hand shot backward and locked around the man’s sword wrist with perfect precision.
Crack.
The sound of bone shattering was sharp and clean.
The soldier screamed.
The sword clattered to the floor.
Rek’Sai rose in the same motion, his massive body exploding into a half-turn.
His right leg drove forward like a battering ram and slammed into the soldier’s chest.
Boom.
The man’s breastplate caved inward.
He flew like a rag doll, smashed through two support posts, and crashed into the tavern wall hard enough to shake dust from the rafters.
He slid to the floor, blood pouring from his mouth, twitched twice, and stopped moving.
Total silence.
The remaining three soldiers stood frozen, faces bone-white, swords trembling in their hands.
One kick had killed an armored adult man.
That was not human strength.
“You want to fight for it too?” Rek’Sai turned and looked down at them.
His shadow swallowed all three.
“N-no… no…” The thin one’s legs gave out and he dropped to his knees.
“My lord… we were blind…” Rek’Sai walked forward.
They scrambled backward, tripped over chairs, and went down in a heap.
He did not kill the three cowards.
Dead men paid no coin.
He crouched beside the corpse, tore the coin purse from the belt, weighed it in his hand, listened to the pleasant clink of metal, and tucked it into his own belt with satisfaction.
“Old man.
They paid for the drinks.
The rest is for the repairs.” He patted his belt.
The tavern keeper nodded so hard sweat flew from his forehead.
Rek’Sai did not spare anyone another glance.
He ducked out through the low door and drew a lungful of the damp air.
Deep in the Rainwood, something howled—distant, half-heard.
He reached back and drew both custom axes.
The blades caught the dull light and shone with a cold, hungry edge.
“Twelve-foot Boar King…” Rek’Sai grinned, showing the sharp white canines.
“I was just looking for a mount.” He strode onto the muddy forest path.
His towering figure vanished into the thick green storm of the Rainwood.