Global Beast Mastery: Only I Can See the Hints

In a camp by the bloody pool.

Bradley, sitting in the chief's seat, listened to his subordinate's report with a grim expression. "You're saying that Robert has fallen into Charles's hands?"

"Yes, boss, I saw it with my own eyes just a few days ago, absolutely certain!" the bandit assured, pounding his chest.

Bang!

Upon hearing this, Bradley slammed his hand down on the armrest, leaving a deep imprint.

Sly had paid him ten gold coins and had repeatedly urged him to ensure Robert's safety. Bradley knew that in his line of work, especially when dealing with stolen artifacts, he needed the Taylor family's support to turn his loot into money.

But now, Robert had gotten into trouble right under his nose. How was he supposed to explain this to Sly?

The deep furrows in Bradley's brow betrayed his foul mood, and the atmosphere in the tent became tense and oppressive. No one dared to speak, and a heavy silence filled the air.

"That kid Charles... he's so young, yet he already has the ability to kill a Level 3 Beast Master. If he's left unchecked, he'll definitely become a major threat to us in the future. And once he returns to Lsengard, there's a chance he'll expose my connections with the Taylor family. That wouldn't be good at all," Bradley sighed, his voice heavy with concern.

A fierce glint flashed in his eyes as he gave orders to the men in the tent: "Have the brothers in the surrounding areas tighten their patrols. No matter what, we must ensure Charles doesn't leave the ferocious beast mountain range!"

"If there's any sign of him, report to me immediately!"

"Yes, big boss!" the men responded in unison.

With an enemy like Charles still at large, Bradley knew he'd never sleep soundly again. The mere thought of it made him clench his fists in frustration.

Just as he was about to send his men back to their posts, a bloodied man staggered into the tent, half crawling and half stumbling. Bradley's eyes widened in shock at the sight.

"Uldir, what happened? Where are the rest of your squad?" he demanded.

Collapsing at Bradley's feet, Uldir was a mess of tears and snot. "Big Boss, we ran into Charles near the bloody pool. We lost a dozen men—if I hadn't run so fast, I'd be dead by his spear too!"

Hearing this, the bandits in the tent jumped in alarm, grabbing their weapons.

A savage light gleamed in Bradley's eyes. He had been racking his brain for a way to explain Robert's situation to Sly, but now, Charles had delivered himself right to their doorstep?

Last time, Charles had ambushed him and barely escaped with his life. This time, Bradley was determined to settle the score.

Clenching his fists tightly, Bradley barked, "Head to the bloody pool immediately! I want every inch of this ferocious beast mountain range searched. Find Charles and bring him to me, no matter what it takes!!!"

...

Lying low in a thicket just outside the camp, Charles silently observed the scene inside.

Suddenly, alarms blared throughout the camp, and hundreds of bandits gathered in the central clearing.

"Uldir's plan worked," Charles muttered under his breath.

As long as this band of thieves left the camp, the narrow, winding mountain path stretching over 30 kilometers would force them into a long, vulnerable line.

In such a formation, the bandits wouldn't be able to leverage their numerical advantage. This would give Charles the opportunity to create nearly one-on-one combat scenarios. As long as he wasn't facing more than three opponents at once, he stood a chance of defeating Bradley.

The sun was already dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows across the forest. Even if the fight didn't go his way, Charles could always activate Darkness Cloak and retreat.

As the hundred or so grave robbers gathered in the clearing, ready to charge towards the bloody pool, Charles prepared to follow them. But suddenly, something unexpected happened.

A thick fog began to rise in the forest, but it wasn't ordinary fog—it was a strange, purple mist, carrying a faint scent of calming flowers.

A woman slowly emerged at the front of the group. She wore a semi-transparent veil that barely hid her stunningly alluring features. Her long, narrow golden eyes shimmered with a natural, captivating charm, drawing the attention of everyone around her the moment she appeared.

She was dressed in an opulent, purple-gold gauze dress that clung to her exquisite figure, adding an air of seductive mystery. Yet beneath the long skirt, a glimpse of a pale purple serpent's tail could be seen, swaying slightly, radiating a dangerous aura that sent chills down the spine.

"Aria?" Charles muttered in confusion as he glanced over, and instantly, a status panel popped up before his eyes.

[Name]: Aria

[Race]: Descendant of the Ancient Gods - Goddess of Sky-patching

[Age]: 17

[Level]: Lv35

[Length]: 12 meters

[Attributes]: Earth/Poison

As these lines of information flashed briefly before disappearing, Charles was stunned. Aria was becoming increasingly enigmatic to him; it seemed like her details changed every time she appeared.

What shocked Charles even more was that the last time he had parted ways with Aria, she had only been at Level 13. How had she managed to reach Level 35 in such a short span of time?

"She must have used some sort of secret technique, maybe something like activating a dormant bloodline. This kind of power surge is likely temporary," Charles reasoned as he felt the unstable pressure of Aria's elevated level.

It seemed she was here to seek revenge on Bradley as well. Despite her delicate appearance, Charles knew all too well that beneath that facade, Aria had a fiery, unyielding spirit.

"With her overwhelming combat power at Level 35, it looks like I won't even need to lift a finger," Charles thought, feeling a twinge of pity for Bradley and his underlings.

However, his curiosity about Aria's origins only deepened. Was this trace of ancient gods' bloodline something she was born with, or was it something she acquired from Medusa in the ancient tomb?

In front of the camp, the hundred or so bandits stared at the beautiful young woman slowly approaching them. At first, their faces showed a twisted kind of interest, but as they noticed the long, purple snake tail trailing behind her, a flicker of fear crossed their expressions.

"A snake-woman? What's she doing here?" A moment of fear flashed across Bradley's face before it was replaced with a lecherous grin. "I've heard that the women of the Atacama snake people have a unique taste. Today, I think I'll try it for myself!"

Despite sensing that the purple mist around them seemed unusual, Bradley figured that with his strength as a Level 3 Beast Master, dealing with a little girl who hadn't even fully matured wouldn't be a problem.

"Capture her! But don't hurt her!" Bradley commanded, his intentions clear in his tone.

Dozens of men closed in, surrounding the girl, but the purple mist thickened around them.

Clang! The sound of weapons hitting the ground echoed.

One by one, the bandits began collapsing to the ground, their bodies going limp as they foamed at the mouth, their eyes rolling back in their heads as they convulsed uncontrollably.

"This isn't good—the mist is poisoned! Cover your mouths and noses, don't breathe it in!" Bradley, as a poison-attribute Level 3 Beast Master, realized something was wrong with the mist after just a small inhale. He shouted the warning to his men.

But by then, it was too late. The mist had already engulfed the entire forest, making Bradley's orders futile.

The purple fog spread, claiming the lives of ferocious beasts by the dozen, causing birds to drop from the sky. Everywhere the mist touched, trees and grass withered and died.

In a panic, Bradley quickly pulled a [hold-breath pill] from his pocket and popped it into his mouth. This miraculous drug would allow him to go without breathing for an hour, but his subordinates weren't so fortunate.

Amidst the poisonous mist, the young woman in the purple-gold gown slowly approached. As her pale golden, narrow eyes locked onto him, Bradley found himself completely mesmerized with just a single glance.

Bradley stared, entranced, at the young woman with the semi-transparent veil covering her face. He was completely captivated, especially by those breathtaking golden eyes. Despite the situation, Bradley found himself losing all will to fight, overwhelmed by an inexplicable urge to kneel before her in worship.

The girl stopped a few meters away, her slender waist visible through the delicate fabric. The short distance between them filled Bradley with the sudden desire to pull her into his arms. But then, he noticed something was wrong—his feet were frozen in place. Not only that, but his hands were also refusing to obey him. With a loud clatter, the sword he had been holding fell to the ground.

A wave of fear, like a bucket of cold water, extinguished the flames of desire in Bradley's heart. But under the girl's piercing gaze, he realized with horror that he couldn't move.

Shlunk!

A sharp sound cut through the air as the purple mist around them solidified into a tangible form. A violet sword pierced through Bradley's chest.

"You... we have no quarrel, why are you killing me?" he gasped, blood pouring from the wound. As his life drained away, his face grew increasingly pale.

Aria looked down at Bradley with cold indifference, as if he were nothing more than an insect. Her voice, sweet yet chilling, filled his ears like a death knell: "A thousand years ago, my serpent tribe and Genosha had a treaty. The Nine Hell River was to be our boundary, a line neither side would cross. I didn't want to resort to violence, but why did you have to harm him?"

"Him? Who... who are you talking about?" Bradley's pupils constricted in panic. The girl's words clearly implied he had angered someone he never should have. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember ever offending anyone from the serpent tribe.

The girl didn't bother to answer. Instead, she slowly raised her right hand, where purple mist coalesced around her delicate fingers, once again solidifying into a deadly weapon.

Slash!

Thud!

One by one, the violet swords made of mist pierced through Bradley's body, turning him into a living pincushion. Each strike was accompanied by a sickening sound as his flesh was torn apart. Under the girl's cold gaze, Bradley's body was riddled with holes, each one a window through his fading life.

Blood quickly soaked his clothes, and the light in his eyes dimmed until, finally, his lifeless body collapsed heavily to the ground.

Seeing this, the girl finally allowed herself a satisfied smile. "With this, there shouldn't be anyone left in the ferocious beast mountain range who can threaten Charles, right?"

The girl glanced around at the chaotic scene, with hundreds of thieves' groups scattered around her—some dead, some fleeing. Their leader, Bradley, had already met his end at her hands, and then she vanished into the purple mist...