Chapter 21: Tasty Food

The silence was absolute. Not the tense kind that came before a predator's strike—but something older, untouched, and reverent. Kaelren stood in the center of the ruined main hall, the still air heavy with age and dust. His footsteps had disturbed nothing—not a bird, not a bug, not even the faintest hint of a beast's presence. It was as if the wild itself had deemed this place forbidden.

Above him, the cracked dome roof filtered light through a jagged hole, casting pale shafts of illumination that drifted through swirling motes of dust. Stone columns rose around the perimeter, some half-collapsed, others leaning but still defiant against time. Ivy had crept in through the cracks, but even the greenery seemed subdued, clinging to the outer edges like a respectful visitor unwilling to intrude.

Kaelren's eyes rose to the carving on the far wall. The beast etched into the stone loomed twice his height, watching over him.

"This will do," he murmured.

He sniffed—and immediately sneezed.

"…After some cleaning."

He set to work.

Starting with the floor, Kaelren gathered a broad palm frond and fashioned it into a crude broom. Dust coated the stone in thick, uneven layers, and each stroke stirred it into choking clouds. He covered his mouth with a strip of torn fabric and worked methodically, sweeping in broad circles from the center outward, revealing etched patterns beneath the filth—concentric rings, faded runes, perhaps ritual markings or channels of energy.

As he cleared, he uncovered fragments of ancient bones, dry and brittle, tucked into corners or buried beneath collapsed debris. Most had been broken long ago, possibly offerings… or remains of something less peaceful. Kaelren moved them aside carefully, placing them in a respectful pile near the outer edge of the room.

Next, he approached the broken altar beneath the beast carving. Vines had grown over it like veins, snaking through cracked stone. With effort, he hacked them away, then brushed years of decay from the surface. The altar's top was engraved with more symbols—this time clearly depicting the carved beast. Around it were smaller figures bowing, or perhaps worshiping.

Kaelren's lips tightened. He didn't know what this place had been—temple, tomb, laboratory—but it had called to him nonetheless.

He stepped back, surveying his progress.

The air still held the scent of mold and dry stone, but it was breathable now. The floor was clear. The walls had begun to show their age and beauty. The beast carving stood proud once more, looming silently over the chamber like a forgotten guardian.

Kaelren gathered thick vines from outside and wove them into strong cords. Between two upright pillars, he strung them tightly, forming the foundation of a crude hammock. He lined it with dry moss, layered palm fronds overtop, then pressed it down to test the weight.

After a long pause, he grunted.

"Nothing can be worse than my original sleeping arrangements at Camp Twelve."

He sat down. The vines creaked. The whole thing tilted.

"…Maybe I was wrong."

Still, it would do. It had to do.

Kaelren lay back, staring up at the broken dome. Light filtered down like slow-falling ash, warming his face. He wasn't safe—not truly. But here, in this forgotten sanctuary guarded by silence and time, he could begin.

Tomorrow, he'd explore the deeper into the forest.

Tonight, he'd rest.

Morning in the beastlands came not with light, but with scent.

Kaelren stirred from his makeshift bed, instincts already prickling before his eyes had fully opened. The ruins remained quiet—eerily so—but outside, something had changed. The forest beyond the stone walls no longer smelled dormant. The air held the tang of freshly torn bark, spilt blood, and territorial challenge.

He rose and stepped out of the ruin's crumbling archway, the canopy above casting the land in mottled green light. Feral chirps and low, distant growls resonated from deeper within the jungle. The quiet around the ruins persisted, as if the beasts feared whatever slept inside—but that fear didn't stretch far.

Kaelren's lips curled slightly.

Time to see what this new body could do.

He moved through the undergrowth like a shadow, low and quiet, senses sharpened by the Beast Core thrumming in his chest. Every scent told a story. Every footfall on damp soil registered with primal clarity. Prey, predator, carrion—he could feel it all.

But he wasn't hunting.

Not yet.

The ambush came suddenly.

A blur of muscle and scale burst from the ferns, roaring as it slammed into Kaelren with bone-snapping force. He was hurled backward, crashing through a tree trunk and skidding across the dirt in a tangle of limbs.

A scaled beast. Eight feet tall, its armored hide mottled with moss and blackened bone spikes. Its claws scraped deep gouges through the ground as it charged again.

Kaelren rolled aside, barely avoiding a slicing tail whip. He came up on one knee, breathing hard, blood trickling from his temple.

"Alright," he growled, cracking his neck. "Let's see how this works."

The Beast Qi surged. His hair pulsed into the air. A aura of dominance stretch out from him.

It wasn't gentle. It wasn't elegant. It was a flood, brutal and hot, rushing through his muscles like wildfire. His hands thickened, nails sharpening into black claws. His vision blurred at the edges as instinct slammed against reason—but he didn't fight it.

He let go.

When the Scaled beast leapt again, Kaelren met it midair, fists slamming into its chest. The creature shrieked as bone cracked under the force. They hit the ground together, rolling, tearing. Kaelren's shoulder dislocated. Ribs fractured. A spike pierced his thigh. Pain was a distant drumbeat behind the roar in his ears.

And then—the Gene refinment Sutra activated.

Something twisted deep within his flesh. The pain didn't fade—it sharpened. Focused. Blood poured freely from his wounds, but instead of weakening, he felt his strength build. Cells knitted together in real-time. Torn muscle pulled tight. His shattered ribs pushed themselves back into place.

The Gene Refinement Sutra—second stage—had adapted. The broken body fed it. But now, with the influx of Beast Qi and Blood Qi, it didn't just repair.

It revitalized.

Strengthened.

He felt that as long as he didn't die, his body would heal and strengthen almost instantly under the effects of the Gene Refinement Sutra, powered by both Beast Qi and Blood Qi.

Kaelren could feel his tissues harden, his bones reinforce. His blood wasn't leaking anymore—it was moving, channeling power, fueling the sutra with raw violence.

He lunged forward with inhuman speed. His claws tore through the Beast's shoulder. The beast shrieked and retaliated with a backhanded strike—but Kaelren barely felt it. His arm bent, then snapped back into place mid-motion.

Each wound he took only made him stronger.

He fought like an animal.

No, like something worse.

He climbed the scaled beast's back, hammering blows into its skull. The creature bucked, screeched, stumbled—then finally collapsed with a broken cry, its skull crushed beneath Kaelren's blood-slicked fist.

The forest went still.

Kaelren stood over the body, chest heaving, blood dripping from his forearms. Not all of it was his.

He looked down at his hands. They were bruised, cracked—but already healing. Muscles still trembled from the Beast Qi's aftershocks, and deep inside, the Gene Sutra hummed with quiet hunger.

The strength was undeniable. But it wasn't just power. It was transformation. One foot in the realm of man, the other slipping deeper into something untamed.

He turned back toward the ruins, dragging the carcass with him. He needed to eat after all.

The fire crackled beneath the makeshift spit, flames licking upward with each pop of resin in the wood. The skinned leg of the scaled beast rotated slowly, juices hissing as they dripped into the embers. Smoke curled upward into the broken sky-light of the ruin, carrying the scent of charred meat and scorched fat.

Kaelren crouched nearby, watching it roast, stomach growling.

He was starving.

The fight had taken more out of him than he thought—blood loss, tissue regeneration, the surge of Beast Qi and the wild hunger it left in its wake. His body craved sustenance not just for recovery, but for growth.

When the meat browned and cracked slightly, Kaelren tore off a piece, the outside seared, the inside steaming.

He raised it to his mouth, jaw clenched with anticipation—and bit.

And gagged.

The taste hit him like spoiled milk poured over rot. Bile surged in his throat. He spit the mouthful onto the ground, coughing, wiping his tongue with the back of his hand.

"What the hell…?"

He tried again—this time from a different section, cooked more thoroughly. Burned, even. The same result. The flavor was putrid, the texture wrong. It didn't just taste bad—it felt wrong in his mouth. Unnatural. Rejected.

Frustration coiled in his gut. He threw the meat aside, firelight flickering against his face as he stood and grabbed another portion, this one from closer to the torso, where the organs had been. He cleaned it, seared it, carefully cut away the bone—and took a tentative bite.

Worse.

The stench hit him this time before the taste did. His stomach churned. He hurled the meat into the wall with a snarl, the juices splattering like blood across stone.

Kaelren stood over the fire, panting. His shoulders rose and fell like an animal that had missed a kill.

"Why?" he roared. "Why can't I eat it?"

He kicked over the spit. The fire sputtered under the weight of broken stone and beast flesh. Ash scattered into the wind.

He stormed back into the ruin, into the chamber he'd claimed as his shelter. The one with the carving. The one he'd clawed and shaped into something livable. His sanctuary.

But as he passed through the stone arch, something hit him.

A scent.

Warm. Iron-rich. Delicious.

Kaelren froze.

He sniffed again, head tilting slowly. The scent wasn't coming from the fire. It wasn't cooked. It was fresh.

He followed it—low to the ground, nose working like a bloodhound's—until he found the remaining portion of the Scaled beasts carcass: the hind leg, untouched, raw, resting where he had dropped it earlier in exhaustion.

The scent pulled at him with quiet insistence.

He crouched beside it, breath shallow, heart pounding.

His hand trembled as he reached out. He gripped the muscle—still warm, still glistening with natural fluids—and raised it to his mouth.

His teeth sank in.

The first bite tore clean. Sinew snapped. Blood spread across his tongue.

And it was exquisite.

The taste didn't repulse him—it sang. Rich, layered, powerful. As a human, only the finest marbled steaks had tasted this good. But this—this was something else. Alive. His body welcomed it. Beast Qi stirred in his gut. The Gene Refinement Sutra thrummed in quiet approval, fed by the blood and raw density of the meat.

Kaelren dropped to his knees, chewing, swallowing, devouring.

Shame warred with relief. Disgust battled hunger. His fingers clenched the raw flesh like a starving wolf. His face dripped with blood not his own.

And he kept eating.

Until the hunger ebbed.

Until the shakes stopped.

Until the fire in his blood quieted into a simmering heat.

He sat back, mouth red, chest heaving.

Staring down at the stripped bone in his hands.

"…I'm really not human anymore."

The words came softly, but the truth echoed through the ruin like a scream.

He wiped his face. The blood smeared, but didn't go away. His teeth had changed—longer. Sharper. Meant to rend, not chew.

He looked toward the beast carving. It stared back, unchanged, waiting.

Kaelren curled his lip. Half a snarl. Half a smile.

" So what of I'm not human, my mind is still my own. No mater how much my body changes, I'm still Kaelren."

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