Baiting Beasts for Beginners

No one warned Elion that being bait involves actual claws. Deadly claws.

Elion barely had time to breathe before the ape-man lunged at him again. The world blurred—trees streaking past, leaves crunching underfoot, that beast's roar tearing through the air like a war drum. His heart felt like it was trying to punch its way out of his chest. He started to question everything now. Especially this plan of Ronan.

"Hey!" Elion shouted, dodging left, nearly twisting his ankle in the process. "Over here, you stinky-banana-breath!"

The ape-man skidded on all fours, kicked off a tree, and launched toward him like a freight train made of muscle and rage. Elion dove. The claws missed his head by inches.

"Jordan, now!" he yelled, rolling to his feet just in time to see Jordan charging in from the side.

"I'm on it!" Jordan gritted his teeth and swung his glowing pipe with all his strength.

WHAM.

The pipe smashed into the ape-man's left arm. It was like hitting a stone wall. The impact rang out through the forest—but the beast didn't even flinch.

Jordan staggered back. "Okay. Not great."

The ape-man turned toward him, lips peeling back into a snarl.

Jordan raised the pipe like a shield. "Alright, plan B. Run and try again."

"Try again?" Elion's voice was tight, edged with panic.

Dodging the ape-man's attacks wasn't exactly a walk in the park. And now Jordan wanted to run it back? He could only pray that the glowing metal pipe came with a hidden finishing move—like a beast-slaying laser beam or an instant win button. Despite the chaos around him, Elion didn't move. Not yet. His body screamed for action, every nerve lit like a warning flare, but his mind was finally catching up.

This wasn't a spar.

This wasn't Ronan guiding them through drills.

This was a real fight.

And right now? They were flailing.

"Focus, Elion!" Jordan called out between swings.

Then, softer—almost like a reminder to himself—he added, "It's our first real fight against beasts. We'll get better."

Elion blinked, surprised. Somehow, that helped. Jordan was right. He wasn't doing everything wrong. He was still alive, wasn't he? And staying alive while a monstrous ape tried to pulverize you was, frankly, an achievement. He'd dodged attacks that should've turned him into forest paste. This wasn't a failure—it was his first real combat experience. It was his first time facing something that genuinely wanted him dead.

"Yeah. You're right," Elion muttered, the words grounding him. Then, louder, as another claw sliced the air where his head had just been, he shouted, "But what else can I expect?! I'm not made of steel!" He ducked again—just barely—as a swipe tore through a chunk of bark behind him. This wasn't perfect. But it was survival. And that was a start.

Meanwhile, Ronan was handling two ape-men like it was a warm-up routine before brunch. Not a scratch on him. Not a single bead of sweat. If anything, he looked bored—like he was still waiting for the real fight to start. He weaved between claw swipes and massive fists with the kind of effortlessness that made Elion want to scream. His revolver snapped out clean, firing warning shots that clipped fur and muscle—not to kill, just to control.

Keep them angry.

Keep them busy.

Keep them guessing.

And in between dodging death?

He was teaching.

"Both of you, listen," Ronan said.

Even with the chaos, Elion and Jordan heard Ronan's voice loud and clear—like it had its own VIP lane through the noise. Both of them stayed locked in the fight, ducking claws and dodging death, but their ears were on full alert. Whatever Ronan was about to say? Yeah, it was probably important—like last-minute survival tips.

"Rule One," Ronan fired a shot that ricocheted off one of the ape-man's body, making it stumble back. "Don't let them touch you. Poison claws."

Elion, still frantically avoiding his own ape-man, froze mid-step. "Poison?"

Jordan blinked. "I'M SORRY, WHAT?!"

"Keep moving," Ronan continued, spinning his revolver as if this was just another Tuesday.

"Rule Two," he ducked low as an ape-man swiped at his head, then retaliated with a brutal kick to its chest, sending it flying into a tree. "Their reflexes are insane. Swing too early, you miss. Swing too late, you die."

Elion, dodging wildly, did not like the sound of that. "Can you maybe tell us these things before we fight them?!"

Ronan ignored him. "Rule Three—"

BANG.

A perfectly placed shot clipped the second ape-man in the shoulder, causing it to howl in rage.

"If all else fails…" Ronan smirked, reloading his gun in one smooth motion.

"…pray."

Elion had just enough time to process how utterly unhelpful Ronan's last-minute wisdom was before his ape-man came at him like a wrecking ball with fur. The beast swung, an arm thick as a tree trunk carving through the air. Elion ducked—not elegantly, not heroically, but with the pure desperation of someone who very much wanted to keep his head attached to his shoulders. He felt the swing pass. Not just felt but heard it—the wind of that strike whispered past his ear like death brushing against him. A split-second later, the ground behind him exploded into a small crater of dust and debris.

His brain kicked in, 'Well. I can't keep it going like this.'

Elion didn't wait for the dust to settle. He rolled hard to the left, tumbling through leaves and loose soil, his elbow scraping across a root as he came up in a crouch. He coughed once—twice—trying to ignore the way his lungs burned, and his heart slammed against his ribcage like it was seconds from breaking free and running off without him.

But even with adrenaline drowning his senses, his mind kept calculating. He couldn't overestimate himself. Not now. They had just opened their First Mana Gates, and while he could feel the boost—the speed, the reflexes, the weird sense of awareness that pulsed through his limbs—it didn't change the fact that their stats were still lower than whatever walking mountain of violence they were up against.

Besides, Ronan had said something important earlier. The bear-man at the club? Middle-tier. These ape-men? High-tier. This meant if that bear had a time limit on its transformation, these guys probably had longer clocks.

Maybe minutes.

Maybe longer.

Whatever the number, Elion knew this wasn't a marathon he could win. Not in a drawn-out fight. Not yet. So he had to be smart. He didn't need to overpower the beast. He just needed to stay alive long enough for an opening—or until Ronan decided they were worth rescuing.

'What can I do now?'

He scanned the ape-man's posture as it pivoted toward him, eyes gleaming with that same violent hunger. Its breath steamed in the air. Muscles tensed across its chest like cables wound too tight. Elion's fingers twitched. Every instinct screamed at him to run—but his mind snapped into gear, cutting through the fear like a blade.

His plan? Don't just react. Make it react. Lead the beast, set the pace. Force it to swing wide. Dodge late enough to bait it, early enough to survive. Let it waste energy. Let it get mad. And when it's mad—it gets sloppy.

That was his edge. Not strength. Not raw power. Just strategy. If he couldn't outmatch the ape-man physically, then he'd outthink it. Use its rage against it. Because right now, that was all they had—brains versus brawn. And if he could play this, right? He'd turn the monster's instincts into its own worst enemy. That was the plan.

Elion took a shaky breath, adjusted his stance, and muttered under his breath, "Okay… you want bait? Fine. Let's see how long you can chase something you can't catch."

Then he bolted.

Not in a straight line—he zigzagged, juking left and right like a rabbit being chased by a fire-breathing rhino. He wasn't faster than the beast, but unpredictability bought him seconds. And seconds mattered.

The ape-man roared behind him and lunged forward, claws slashing bark as it carved through trees like paper. Elion dipped low, ducked under a branch, and flung himself sideways behind a rock, hoping to redirect its momentum.

It worked. Kind of.

The beast barreled past him, skidding through leaves and dirt as it tried to pivot mid-charge. But it was fast. Too fast.

"Elion, move!" Jordan shouted from the side, winding up for another strike.

"I am moving!" Elion snapped back, already scrambling to his feet again. "You should hit harder!"

His voice cracked from the strain, but his feet kept going. Jordan's response came in the form of another sharp swing of the glowing pipe. The aim was there. The energy was there.

The timing?

Off by half a second.

The ape-man had already started to pivot toward Elion again, and Jordan's strike clipped its shoulder—enough to draw a grunt but not enough to stagger it. Worse, it barely seemed to care. The beast snarled and turned fully toward Jordan now, its glowing eyes narrowing with something that looked far too much like focus.

Elion saw it happen in real time.

Too close. Too fast.

And Jordan's stance was wide open.

Elion's body moved before his brain could argue. "Jordan! Left—duck!"

But Jordan didn't duck fast enough. The ape-man's claw was already mid-swing, arcing toward Jordan's exposed ribs with enough force to turn his insides into abstract art. Elion threw himself forward, feet pounding the forest floor. With a burst of speed he didn't know he had, he slammed into Jordan from the side—just in time to knock them both out of range. The claws sliced the air where Jordan's torso had been half a second ago. They hit the ground hard—elbows, knees, dirt in the mouth.

Jordan coughed and rolled off him. "Dude—what the hell?!"

"You're welcome," Elion wheezed, wiping mud off his face. "You want a thank-you card too?"

Jordan groaned, pushing himself up. "No, just maybe a little warning before you tackle me like a linebacker."

"Yeah, well, next time, maybe dodge before the monster claws you in half!"

The ape-man growled, already turning to face them again.

From across the field, Ronan—who was casually dodging two different monsters like he was doing warmups—spared them a glance. "Less talking. More fighting."

Elion wanted to throw a rock at him instead. "Oh, sure. My bad. Let me just ignore the part where I almost died."

But even while snapping back, Elion's eyes were analyzing—tracking the beast's movement, measuring recovery frames, noticing the twitch in its right leg. His body ran on adrenaline, but his mind was already calculating.

While Elion was running his mind on the best approach, Jordan found his mark next—this time landing a solid hit on the creature's knee. There was a sharp 'CRACK,' and the beast snarled, actually stumbling.

"Yes!" Jordan shouted, breathless. "That did something!"

Elion's eyes widened. This was the moment.

He didn't think—he acted. On pure instinct and with too much adrenaline hijacking his IQ, he grabbed a fist-sized rock beside him and hurled it straight at the ape-man's head.

THUD!

Direct hit. Right between the eyes. It did exactly one thing—made the beast stop. Not collapse. Not retreat. Just… stop.

Its head slowly turned. Those glowing yellow eyes locked onto him like laser scopes.

Elion blinked. "Right. That was… strategically unwise."

Jordan froze. "Is that the best you can think of? I should have higher Wisdom than you!"

Elion backed up. "I panicked, okay?! My brain said 'distraction,' and my hand went 'yeet.' I regret everything."

The ape-man let out a low growl that rumbled through the ground, then roared—loud enough to shake the leaves from nearby trees. Now, it was entirely focused on Elion.

Jordan muttered, "Well, congrats. You're the bait again."

"Not on purpose this time!" Elion hissed as he turned and sprinted, the beast thundering after him.

Ronan sighed like a disappointed teacher. "See? This is why you're the bait."

Elion groaned, bracing himself for impact. Yeah. This training session was going great. Ronan watched as Elion and Jordan stumbled through their fight, dodging and swinging in a chaotic, barely-organized mess of survival instincts and desperation.

"They're not so scary anymore, are they?" Ronan said, almost lazily, as he sidestepped a swipe from one of the ape-men he was handling.

Elion, panting, barely dodged another clawed strike. "You say that because you're not the one being actively mauled!"

Jordan did not respond to Ronan as he swung his metal rod again, and this time, he actually managed to land another solid hit on their opponent. "Yeah, kinda getting used to it now."

Ronan smirked. "Told you."

Before he could say more, one of the ape-men fighting him let out a guttural snarl and lunged past him—straight for Elion. Ronan's smirk vanished.

With a heavy sigh, he muttered, "Why do they always go for the weakest one?"

Then, in one smooth motion, he activated his ring. A pulse of energy rippled through the air, followed by a deep, earth-shaking hum.

Elion saw Ronan's arm shift. He was pretty lucky to catch all of this because Jordan was going head-to-head with the ape-man all by himself. He was getting better.

Jordan was totally in the zone.

Ronan's already strong, lean muscles expanded, dark fur rippling over them. His fingers lengthened, his knuckles hardened, and his entire arm transformed—massive, dense, and powerful.

Like a gorilla. Again.

Elion's mind raced. 'Why is his transformation different and focused only on a few parts of his body?'

He still had no idea how the rings actually worked. What made Ronan's ring and the beast-men's different? The air cracked as Ronan moved. His massive new arm swung forward, and before the ape-man even realized its mistake—

BOOM.

The impact sent the creature flying. It crashed through the trees, snapping branches like twigs before slamming against the ground with a thunderous sound.

Then, a heavy silence followed.

Jordan let out a low whistle while battling his ape-man. "Whew. That was disrespectful."

Elion swallowed. "I'd say overkill, but I'm pretty sure it deserved that."

The second ape-man, still standing before Ronan, snarled at the cowboy—realizing that it was now alone. Ronan cracked his neck and flexed his transformed arm. The fur shimmered, the muscles coiling with unbelievable strength.

"Come on," he said, smirking. "Let's finish this."

The ape-man roared and charged. It moved fast—far faster than anything that big should be able to. Ronan, completely unfazed, planted his foot and swung. The ape-man dodged. It dropped low, suddenly skidding on all fours, then sprang up, aiming straight for Ronan's chest. Elion barely processed how smooth that movement was—how the creature had adapted instantly to Ronan's raw power.

Jordan tensed. "Uh. That's new."

Elion's stomach twisted. "Ronan—"

Too late.

The ape-man's clawed fist shot forward and met an open palm. Ronan caught the punch effortlessly. The beast snarled and tried to pull back. Ronan's grip tightened. The air tensed. There was a shift in Ronan's expression—how his usual smirk had hardened, how his eyes darkened—before Ronan yanked the ape-man forward and slammed his forehead into its skull.

CRACK.

The impact was brutal. The ape-man staggered, its massive form swaying like a toppled statue. Before it could recover, Ronan spun his entire body, bringing up his transformed arm—and delivered a full-powered back fist.

BOOM.

The ape-man soared through the air like a ragdoll. It crashed into the earth so hard that the ground trembled. Dust rose. Silence followed.

Then—nothing.

It didn't get back up.

Elion and Jordan stood completely frozen.

Jordan was the first to break the silence. "Okay…" he breathed. "Yeah. No. That was definitely overkill."

Elion nodded very slowly. "Yep. That was—yeah. That was insane."

Ronan, finally relaxed, rolled his shoulders. The gorilla-like transformation faded, his arm returning to normal. Then, like he hadn't just murdered two giant monsters with his bare hands, he glanced at Elion and Jordan.

"Alright. Your turn."

Elion groaned. Of course. He had no doubts about what Ronan had muttered earlier—he was the weakest among them. No contest. He only had his speed and wisdom, but he was still too far off to be of any help. Jordan had raw strength and a fighter's instinct. Ronan was a monster in human form.

But Elion?

He had… sarcasm.

And the ability to run away really fast. It's not exactly the most useful skill set when fighting actual monsters. Elion believed that they were lucky tonight. Lucky that Ronan had recovered just enough to handle all three ape-men alone without breaking a sweat. But something gnawed at Elion. If a thousand beast-men came at them, how long would Ronan last?

Could he fight them all off?

Could anyone?

That thought was still sinking in when Jordan screamed. Elion's head snapped toward him just in time to see the ape-man's clawed hand swipe across Jordan's shoulder. Jordan staggered back, hissing through his teeth. The slash wasn't deep, but Elion immediately noticed the worst part. The wound was smoking. The claws were really poisoned.

"Damn it!" Jordan cursed, stumbling as he tried to move back, but the ape-man pressed forward. Its massive form loomed over him, ready to finish the job.

"Ronan!" Elion shouted in panic.

That's when Elion jumped into action before he even had a chance to think. He couldn't let the next attack come Jordan's way. One second, he was standing still. The next—he jumped. Way higher than he should've been able to. His body felt light, his muscles coiled with new strength, and he soared through the air. Higher. Faster. His mind flashed back to soccer. Back to every volley shot he had ever taken, every goal he had ever sent rocketing into the net.

And now?

The ape-man's head was the ball.

'What is this feeling?' Elion wondered as he twisted midair, his body moving perfectly on instinct—

CRACK!

His foot slammed into the side of the beast's skull. The force was enough to make it falter. Its body swayed, momentarily dazed.

Jordan, despite the poison burning through his veins, gritted his teeth and swung the metal pipe.

"Die!" he shouted.

The impact sent the ape-man crashing into the dirt. Elion could not believe what he had just done—what he was even capable of—when Ronan sighed. The cowboy's right arm transformed again.

More fur. More muscle. More power.

The third and final ape-man barely had time to react as Ronan stepped forward and punched. The force behind it was monstrous. This could not be considered a fight anymore. It was a beatdown. The impact sent the ape-man flying across the forest, slamming into a tree with a sickening crunch. Then, the ape-man fell silent. The fight was over.

But Elion wasn't paying attention anymore. He was already rushing toward Jordan. "Dude! How are you—"

"DON'T TOUCH HIM!" Ronan's sharp bark froze Elion mid-step.

Elion looked up, startled. "What—"

"No! Listen to me!" Ronan was already moving. His expression was serious.

No smirk. No sarcasm. Just urgency.

"Don't touch his blood. Don't touch the wound." Ronan warned.

Elion swallowed hard and stepped back. He recalled Ronan's warning, but he was really worried about Jordan, who was already sitting on the ground. He was propping himself up with a metal pipe. Jordan's face had gone pale. Too pale. His body was trembling, his breath shallow. The poison was already spreading.

Ronan ignored them for a moment. Instead, he crouched beside the fallen ape-men who were slowly transforming into their human form and retrieved their rings.

Three kills.

Three rings.

Elion's eyes could not catch how Ronan did it. One second, the rings were on the beast-men's fingers. The next, they were inside a sack that appeared out of nowhere. Then, just as fast, the sack vanished. Elion had no clue how that worked, but right now, he couldn't care less about the mechanics. Because Jordan was going pale. Fast.

The veins near his shoulder had turned black, spreading like cracks in shattered glass. His breath came in short, sharp gasps. His grip on the metal pipe was slipping. Elion had seen bruises, sprains, and even fractures in street games, but this? This looked like death knocking at the door.

"Hang on, Jordan. You'll be fine," Elion muttered, his voice catching in his throat.

Ronan knelt beside Jordan, uncorking the tiny vial filled with a pearly white liquid that shimmered faintly in the dark. It didn't look like medicine. It looked like magic. Pure and ancient.

"Drink," Ronan said.

Jordan clenched his jaw, barely conscious. He tilted his head back. Ronan poured the liquid in. For a moment, nothing happened. Then Jordan's entire body tensed. The black veins pulsed violently—once, twice—before they began to shrink, crawling backward like retreating shadows. His breathing eased. His grip steadied. The tremble in his arms faded.

Elion didn't breathe. Not until Ronan finally said, "Don't worry. He'll live."

Only then did Elion let out the air in his lungs—sharp, shaky, like it had been trapped for days. He dropped to his knees beside Jordan, not touching him, just watching the life return to his friend's face. The guy looked like he'd been run over by a freight train, then kicked for good measure. But he was alive. Barely.

Elion's gaze shifted to the fallen ape-men, then to Ronan, who was already back on his feet—expression unreadable, eyes scanning the treeline.

"What… now?" Elion asked. His voice trembled, barely louder than a whisper.

He didn't realize how tight his fists were clenched until his fingers started to ache. His hands shook—lightly at first, then harder, like the adrenaline was just now cashing in its debt. His legs felt wobbly like the ground might disappear under him at any second. The fight was over, but his body hadn't gotten the memo. He swallowed hard, trying to steady his breathing, eyes still locked on the spot where the last ape-man had fallen.

Ronan didn't answer immediately. His jaw tightened. The wind stirred, brushing through the trees like a warning.

After a while, Ronan finally spoke, his voice low and grim.

"Just be prepared. That… wasn't the last of them."