Leon didn’t start with the specifics of the job right away. Instead, he showed Dante to a small, cozy cabin situated next to Kunth’s quarters. “This’ll be your spot for the next three days,” he said casually, leaving Dante to absorb the reality of his temporary home.
Once settled, Leon launched into a lively explanation of the work ahead. “Dante,” he began, his voice unusually solemn for the topic, “cleaning up after the beasts isn’t some lowly chore. For us Beastkeepers, their droppings are like treasure—priceless. Do you know why?”
Caught off guard, Dante shook his head. Despite his studies in Mytheson’s journal, there had been no mention of beast dung or its peculiar value.
Leon’s expression turned somber, as though revealing a well-guarded secret. “Because their droppings are a key ingredient for crafting powerful medicines. But here’s the catch: we have to collect it as soon as it’s expelled. Otherwise, other creatures—sometimes predators—will consume it. The nutrients and magic it contains make it too valuable to leave unattended.”
Dante’s face went pale. “Wait... you mean we have to...?”
Leon nodded gravely. “That’s right. Not just clean it up. Collect it on the spot. The very moment it hits the ground.”
Dante’s stomach churned. Cleaning up was bad enough, but “on the spot”? It sounded like a cruel punishment crafted in the deepest corners of the prison. Images of steaming, fresh piles filled his mind, complete with sensory details he hadn’t asked for.
“Come on!” Dante groaned. “You want me to dive headfirst into... fresh—”
“Freshness is critical!” Leon interrupted earnestly, like he was explaining fine art. “The magic dissipates quickly. Even a few minutes’ delay can ruin the quality.”
“Quality? Oh, I don’t want to think about it,” Dante muttered, clutching his stomach as waves of nausea rolled over him.
Kunth, standing nearby, covered her mouth, her chuckles rumbling like distant thunder. “Think of it this way, Dante,” she said with teasing encouragement. “You’re contributing to the prosperity of the town. Doesn’t that make you feel important?”
“Important? No. Disgusted? Absolutely,” Dante shot back, glaring at her.
Leon, unfazed, clapped Dante on the back with a hearty laugh. “Don’t worry—you’ll get used to it after the first pile.”
“Used to it?” Dante muttered under his breath. “If I survive the first pile, I’ll call it a victory.”
Nearby, a Puppet Guard stood silent and motionless, its cold, mechanical gaze fixed on the group. Dante couldn’t help but wonder if even these tireless enforcers had a hidden protocol that exempted them from this kind of labor. “Lucky tin cans,” he mumbled, resigned to his fate.
Leon suddenly turned, shouting to a young apprentice adjusting his gear nearby. “Oi! Billy! Over here!”
The boy, Billy, jogged over with a sharp salute, his youthful face full of respect. “Master Leon, what do you need?”
Leon placed a hand on Billy’s shoulder. “Today’s lesson for you is teaching. You’re going to guide Dante here in the art of collection. He’s new, so be patient. And above all...” Leon leaned in, his tone serious, “make sure he stays safe.”
Billy hesitated briefly, clearly thrown by the gravity of Leon’s words. But then he straightened and replied with conviction, “Understood, Master Leon. I won’t let you down.” He turned to Dante, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, as though he wanted to speak but held back.
Dante noticed but said nothing, brushing it off as one of many oddities in his new life.
Kunth, meanwhile, was reassigned to patrol the grazing lands’ borders with Leon and the other apprentices. The three Armed Sentinels also went about their duties, leaving Dante and Billy alone in the open field.
Billy, who couldn’t have been more than fifteen or sixteen, radiated youthful energy. His golden curls caught the sunlight, and his tanned skin spoke of countless hours spent outdoors. He had the determined look of someone destined for greatness. Holding his lidded iron bucket, he explained with enthusiasm, “Mr. Dante, these buckets aren’t ordinary tools. They’re gifts from the prison. They might look ancient, but they’re incredibly efficient. Each one is inscribed with special runes and can hold far more than it seems—up to three tons of material, to be exact. Plus, they preserve whatever’s inside perfectly, which makes them essential for collecting droppings.”
Dante raised an eyebrow in surprise as he flipped open the lid of his bucket. Inside, glowing runes lined the metal walls. The design looked familiar—nearly identical to the storage buckets he’d used in the prison’s engine rooms. The only difference was the lid, but the resemblance was uncanny. Like other prison-made tools, this bucket appeared outdated yet was undeniably practical.
“I’ve seen something like this before,” Dante muttered, running a hand along the smooth inner rim. He tapped the side, and the faint echo suggested it was far deeper than it appeared.
Billy grinned. “Amazing, aren’t they? Most folks underestimate them because of how they look, but these buckets are a game-changer for us Beastkeepers.”
Dante nodded slowly, still turning the bucket in his hands. “If it works as well as you say, I might just survive this.” His voice held a cautious optimism, though the thought of what he’d soon be scooping still churned his stomach.
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Billy, oblivious to Dante’s internal dread, adjusted his grip on his bucket and gestured toward the open grazing lands. “Shall we get started, Mr. Dante?”
Dante sighed deeply, gripping his bucket tightly. “Let’s get this over with.”
Billy gave a sharp whistle, and moments later, a winged beast soared majestically toward them. Despite his youth, Billy’s skill as a Beastkeeper was evident—owning a flying beast was no small feat for an apprentice. As the creature approached, Dante took his first good look at it.
The beast was magnificent, covered in short golden fur that gleamed in the sunlight. Its body resembled a lion’s, with muscular limbs and an air of regal power. What set it apart was its venomous tail, ending in a deadly scorpion-like stinger surrounded by a vivid red mane of fur. Its wings, razor-sharp and golden, beat the air with authority. The creature fixed its crimson, predator-like eyes on Dante, snorting once before breaking its fierce demeanor. It leaned toward Billy, affectionately licking his face like an oversized housecat.
“Alright, alright, Montes! We’ve got work to do,” Billy said, laughing as he gently pushed the beast’s massive head aside. Stroking its mane, he turned to Dante. “Meet Montes. He’s a Golden Venom Lion, one of the predator-class beasts. Don’t worry—he’s been with me since he was a cub. He’s as well-trained as they come.”
Dante took a cautious step back, laughing nervously. “Impressive... He looks like he could tear someone apart without breaking a sweat. You must be quite the Beastkeeper to train him so well.”
Billy nodded proudly. “That’s all thanks to Master Leon’s teaching.” With practiced ease, Billy swung himself onto Montes’ back. “Come on, Mr. Dante! Today’s task is a bit of a journey, so we’d better get moving.”
Dante hesitated, his eyes glued to the venomous tail. Summoning his courage, he approached from the side, careful not to startle the beast. As he placed a tentative hand on Montes’ golden flank, he felt the powerful muscles ripple beneath his palm. With one cautious step at a time, he climbed aboard, his heart pounding.
Montes shifted slightly, adjusting his footing. Dante froze mid-climb, certain the beast was about to throw him off. But Montes simply steadied himself, allowing Dante to settle into place. Relief washed over him as he gripped the saddle tightly, though he resolved to keep an eye on the stinger at all times.
Billy glanced back with a grin. “See? Told you he’s a good boy.”
“Thank the gods for that,” Dante muttered, his knuckles white as he clung to the saddle.
Billy chuckled, urging Montes into the air. With a powerful beat of his wings, the Golden Venom Lion ascended gracefully, cutting through the sky.
As they traveled, Dante struck up a conversation with Billy, learning more about the boy’s life. Billy revealed that he was an orphan, not originally from Ashveil. Years ago, Joseph had found him as a baby near a river in another country during one of his work assignments. When Joseph’s contract ended, he brought Billy back to Ashveil and raised him as his own. To Billy, Joseph was a father, and Leon was the older brother he’d never had.
From a young age, Billy had been captivated by magical beasts. With Joseph’s blessing, Leon began taking little Billy along on his Beastkeeping trips. At first, his duties were small—carrying tools, cleaning up equipment, and observing from a safe distance. Only after Leon became a fully recognized Beastkeeper did Billy begin his formal training. This year marked his sixth as an apprentice. If all went well, he’d take the certification exam next year and officially earn the title of Beastkeeper.
Dante’s curiosity about the profession opened a floodgate of questions. Billy eagerly explained that being a Beastkeeper was only the foundation of a larger career. Those with exceptional skills could advance to become Beast Tamers—a rank far more prestigious. However, the path to becoming a Beast Tamer was grueling and not guaranteed. Mastering the fundamentals of Beastkeeping was the first, essential step. Billy spoke of his dreams with pride, declaring that he aspired to one day join the ranks of the Beast Tamers.
Listening to Billy’s story, Dante couldn’t help but admire the strength of the bond they shared. For a moment, it made him forget the daunting task that lay ahead.
Over an hour of lively conversation transformed them from strangers into fast friends. Dante gained not only valuable insights into Beastkeeping but also a glimpse into life beyond the prison’s walls. Billy’s passion and earnestness left a lasting impression on him, chipping away at the cynicism forged by centuries of confinement.
As they approached a vast canyon, Billy turned to Dante with a grin. “Mr. Dante, we’ve arrived. Brace yourself for landing!”
Dante’s hands shot to the saddle’s handrails, his knuckles white as he prepared for the descent. Montes, the golden venom-lion, folded his wings slightly and began a rapid dive toward the canyon floor.
“Oh, shit!” Dante shouted as his stomach lurched upward, the ground rushing toward them at an alarming speed.
Billy’s laughter rang out over the rush of wind, his voice light and carefree. It was impossible to tell if he was laughing at Dante’s panic or simply enjoying the thrill of the dive.
Montes landed with the precision of a predator, his movements smooth yet powerful. Dante stumbled off the beast, his legs shaky and his heart racing. He glared at Billy, who was still grinning from ear to ear.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Billy asked, barely concealing his amusement.
“Not bad?” Dante huffed. “I think I left my soul somewhere in the clouds.” He staggered a few steps, trying to steady himself.
“You’ll get used to it,” Billy said, patting Montes fondly. “It’s all part of the experience.”
“Experience?” Dante muttered, shooting the beast a wary glance. “Next time, I’ll take my chances walking.”
Despite his grumbling, Dante couldn’t deny the exhilaration of flying. As terrifying as it was, a part of him was already looking forward to the next ride.
Turning his attention to their surroundings, Dante was struck by the beauty of the canyon. A thin mist drifted across the valley floor, giving the landscape an otherworldly quality. The air was cool, and the faint scent of earth and foliage filled his lungs. But beneath the serene surface lay an undeniable sense of unease, as if the fog was hiding more than just the valley’s beauty.
With a soft growl, Montes spread his wings and ascended into the sky, disappearing into the mist within moments. Dante frowned, watching the beast vanish. “Billy, wouldn’t it be safer if Montes stayed with us?”
Billy shook his head, his expression turning serious. “Montes is a predator. If he stayed, his scent would alert the other beasts and make them restless. That would ruin the entire operation.”
Dante nodded in understanding, though his unease lingered. Another thought struck him, and he asked cautiously, “So... are there any other predators around here?”
Billy’s lips curved into a sly smile, one that immediately set Dante on edge. “You’ll find out soon enough,” Billy said, his voice dripping with cryptic amusement.
Without elaborating, Billy grabbed his bucket and shovel and began walking deeper into the misty valley. Dante hesitated, his instincts screaming at him to turn back. But curiosity—and the lack of alternatives—compelled him to follow.
As he trailed behind Billy, Dante couldn’t shake the sense of foreboding that settled over him like a heavy shroud. Whatever lay ahead, he knew it wasn’t going to be pleasant.