Night had fallen over this land, cloaking the Beastkeeper camp in an eerie silence. The nocturnal beasts, which typically roamed freely under the twin moons, seemed to have retreated into the shadows. Those two peculiar moons—hauntingly luminous and unwavering—hung in the sky like eternal, watchful eyes, casting their cold light over the world below.

Dante lay on his bed, wide awake, his mind racing with thoughts of Leon’s plan for the following day. The anticipation gnawed at him, making sleep impossible. Suddenly, a soft knock broke the stillness of the night.

“It’s me, Kunth. Am I disturbing you?” came Kunth’s voice, barely above a whisper.

“No, I’m not asleep,” Dante replied, sitting up and moving to open the small, creaky door.

The room was so cramped and barren that the two of them had no choice but to sit on the wooden floor. Dante couldn’t help but wonder if the old, splintering planks would hold under Kunth’s considerable weight.

Kunth was the first to break the silence. “Leon told me about today. I can’t believe that monster was so powerful. I respect that you survived.”

“Well,” Dante shrugged, a self-deprecating smirk tugging at his lips, “surviving doesn’t prove I was strong. That thing treated me like a toy, toying with me for its own amusement.”

“No, Dante, you don’t get it.” Kunth took a deep breath, her massive frame shifting slightly. “In the prison, I’ve heard about the Guardians—the ones sent outside. They’re not ordinary prisoners. They’re like the Nameless Hero—powerful beyond anything you or I could imagine. If even Arthur, someone of that caliber, couldn’t kill it, then that monster is beyond anything we’ve ever encountered. Yet you not only survived, you saved Billy. That’s not weakness, Dante.”

Dante’s expression faltered for a moment, the weight of her words sinking in. But then he shook his head, a bitter chuckle escaping him. “I appreciate what you’re trying to say, Kunth, but I know what I’m capable of. And what I’m not. The truth is, I’m weak.”

“Then get stronger!” Kunth’s voice boomed suddenly, making Dante flinch. Her enormous hand came down on his back with a resounding slap, sending a jarring shock through his body. For a moment, Dante thought his organs might have rearranged themselves.

“Damn it, Kunth!” he coughed, clutching his ribs. “Do you have to hit so hard?”

“I believe in you, Dante,” Kunth said firmly, ignoring his protests. Her voice softened, but her words carried a weight that was impossible to dismiss. “You’re not like the other prisoners. I can feel it.”

Dante groaned, rubbing his sore side. “Thanks, but I have no idea how to get stronger, even if I wanted to.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kunth said, her tone firm and reassuring. “Since you’ve awakened your Infinite Fragment, the prison will naturally have plans for you when you return. This sort of thing happened with a friend of mine.”

Kunth’s words did manage to soothe Dante’s frayed nerves, but deep down, he knew the truth. Awakening the Infinite Fragment was no blessing—it was the beginning of a nightmare. When he returned to the prison, he’d to face his judgment, the inevitable trial that came with his newfound power. Becoming stronger came at a steep price, and survival was anything but guaranteed.

They chatted a bit longer before Kunth finally stood to leave. Before stepping out, she turned to him. “Get some rest, Dante. If Leon’s plan works, you’re going to need every ounce of energy tomorrow.”

Dante nodded, forcing a tired smile. “Yeah, I’ll try. Goodnight, Kunth. See you tomorrow.”

Once Kunth left, Dante lay back on his bed, staring at the worn ceiling. Sleep felt like a gamble. He dreaded closing his eyes, fearing the return of the nightmares—Bidenson’s twisted laughter and the haunting image of the Black Goat wreathed in dark mist.

But exhaustion won out. His eyes grew heavy, and despite his fear, Dante drifted into uneasy slumber.

Morning came with an earsplitting rooster crow that yanked Dante from his restless sleep. Groggy and disoriented, he stumbled to the door and pushed it open, only to find chaos unfolding in the camp.

Everywhere he looked, the other apprentices were scurrying around in a frenzy. Shouting echoed from every direction as they darted back and forth, arms full of tools, buckets, and supplies. It was a scene of pure, unadulterated pandemonium.

“What the hell is going on?” Dante muttered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He stepped outside, scanning the commotion for Leon, hoping for an explanation.

Before he could spot him, the ground beneath his feet began to shake rhythmically. A shadow loomed, and Kunth came barreling toward him like an enthusiastic boulder. Her massive frame caused small tremors with each step, her smile stretching wide as she approached.

“Dante!” she boomed, stopping just short of knocking him over. “Leon’s plan is working!”

“What? Already?!” Dante’s jaw dropped, his grogginess replaced with sheer disbelief. The sun had barely risen, and yet somehow, Leon’s plan was already in motion.

Leon stood amidst the chaos, barking orders like a seasoned general, though the sheer magnitude of the situation had clearly thrown him. His plan had worked—a little too well. What he had expected to be a modest turnout of a few dozen beasts had turned into an overwhelming mob of hundreds, and their numbers were still growing. Whether this was a blessing or a disaster was yet to be seen.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Ed!” Leon shouted over the din, pointing toward a group of apprentices struggling to manage a horde of creatures. “Take ten people and get to the fifth post on the west side! Keep the Black-Armored Rhinos away from the Blue Lizards near the fourth post—I don’t want a fight breaking out between them!”

“Yes, Master Leon!” Ed saluted before darting off with his team, trying not to get trampled in the process.

Leon wiped the sweat from his brow, muttering to himself. “This is either the best idea I’ve ever had or the one that gets me killed…”

As if on cue, the Armed Sentinel Captain approached without a sound, its unblinking, glowing eyes radiating disapproval. The sudden appearance startled Leon, but he quickly composed himself.

“Beastkeeper Leon,” the Sentinel Captain began, its metallic voice carrying a tone that was somehow both monotone and accusatory. “Explain the situation.”

Leon had anticipated this and was ready—or so he thought. Feigning embarrassment, he scratched the back of his head. “Ah, sorry about the commotion. Bit of a surprise, really. The beasts seem to have entered their mating season early. Completely unexpected, I assure you.”

The Sentinel Captain emitted a sound that could only be described as a robotic scoff. “According to my database, the mating season for this region’s beasts occurs in June. It is currently January.”

Leon’s smile didn’t falter. “Exactly. That’s why it’s so unusual. My best guess? It’s linked to the attack by the Dark Beast. Triggered some sort of primal survival instinct in them. They’re trying to reproduce early to ensure their species’ survival.”

The Sentinel Captain didn’t respond immediately. Instead, it fixed Leon with a cold, mechanical stare that lasted several uncomfortable seconds. Finally, it spoke. “As a Beastkeeper in service to the prison, you are well aware of the regulations.”

“Of course!” Leon replied quickly, his tone a little too enthusiastic. “I guarantee this has nothing to do with Dante. Totally unrelated.”

Leon tried to keep a straight face, but deception was not his strong suit. His attempt at nonchalance was as transparent as glass.

“Good,” the Sentinel Captain said, its voice colder than ever. “I will personally oversee Prisoner Dante’s work to ensure compliance.” With that, it turned and strode away, its movements eerily silent for something so large.

The moment the Sentinel Captain was out of earshot, Leon exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. “Not exactly smooth,” he muttered, “but at least it worked… sort of.”

Still, unease gnawed at him. The sheer number of beasts gathering at the camp didn’t make sense. He’d expected a modest herd, not this overwhelming tide. Maybe his lie wasn’t entirely a lie. Maybe there really was something unnatural at play.

Leon’s plan had been straightforward: under the cover of night, he and a handful of apprentices would venture out to lure beasts back to the camp. He had intended to bring back a manageable number—maybe a dozen or so.

But instead, he’d brought back hundreds.

The sheer number of beasts practically guaranteed chaos would erupt sooner or later. Many of them despised each other, and once a fight broke out, there was no way Leon and his apprentices could contain it.

Aelric and Velanna, though formidable protectors of the ranch, were not BeastKeepers by trade. Aelric, a local and Leon’s longtime friend, worked as a protector. Velanna, however, was a contracted mage, her responsibilities limited to external threats, not wrangling a bunch of territorial animals.

Leon sighed, his tone resigned but slightly amused. “If this gets worse, I’ll have to send for help from the other ranches. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

In the midst of the commotion, Dante finally managed to locate Leon. Bursting through the chaos of shouting apprentices and bellowing animals, he demanded answers. “Leon! What the hell is going on? This wasn’t part of your plan!”

“Shhh!” Leon immediately hushed him, glancing to his right. Dante followed his gaze and nearly jumped out of his skin. The Armed Sentinel Captain was standing nearby, its cold, glowing eyes locked onto them with an unnerving intensity.

“Oh, shit.” Dante dropped his voice to a whisper. “You said you’d bring back a dozen beasts, maybe twenty tops. There’s got to be at least a hundred out there!”

Leon sighed, rubbing his temples. “Yeah, well, I didn’t plan for this either. I’m just as screwed as you are. But hey, at least the plan worked. Now it’s your turn.”

Dante groaned but didn’t argue. “Fine. So... which piles of crap am I supposed to handle?”

Leon scanned the chaos, clearly overwhelmed. Apprentices were darting around, shouting at each other while trying to corral the increasingly restless beasts. A brawl was already breaking out between two groups—one led by a flock of vibrant, colossal Roosters with shimmering multicolored plumage, the other by a writhing mass of massive black Serpents, their obsidian-like scales reflecting the sun.

Leon, out of patience, called over the first apprentice he saw. “Thomas! Get over here, now!” he shouted.

Thomas, mid-chase after a small, furry creature that seemed determined to escape, managed to catch it before jogging over. “Yes, Master Leon. What do you need?”

“Find Dante some suitable beast groups to work with. He’s got to collect at least five tons of dung today,” Leon instructed hurriedly, already moving toward the brewing fight. “Dante, Thomas will guide you. I’ve got a disaster to prevent!”

Without waiting for a reply, Leon took off running, waving for Kunth to follow.

“Good luck, Dante!” Kunth shouted over her shoulder as she jogged away, her voice carrying effortlessly above the chaos.

Thomas wasted no time. “Mr. Dante, follow me, please. I know exactly which groups will work for your task.”

“Lead the way,” Dante said, sighing but determined.

The two darted off into the chaos, leaving the bedlam behind as they disappeared into the mass of rampaging beasts.

Before long, Thomas came to a halt and gestured toward a particular group of beasts. Dante followed his finger and froze. There, lounging with an air of casual dominance, was a pack of massive bears with fiery red fur.

These beasts were no ordinary bears. Each had a thick, muscular tail, and at the end of the tail was a gigantic black orb, resembling a heavy iron ball. Yet, the bears swung their tails with unsettling ease, as though the weight meant nothing to them.

“Here they are, Mr. Dante,” Thomas declared with an air of satisfaction, pointing proudly. “These are the Ember Iron Bears. Each one can produce hundreds of kilograms of waste per day. We call them the ‘Excretion Machines.’ They’re the perfect group for your task!”

“‘Excretion Machines?’” Dante repeated with a groan, rolling his eyes. “Who the hell comes up with this name?”

Thomas chuckled, then pointed to the largest bear in the group. This beast towered over the others, its fiery coat glinting in the sunlight like molten lava. “That one’s the leader,” Thomas said. “Its name is Tysonte, but we like to call it ‘Tysonte the Relentless.’”

“Let me guess,” Dante muttered, half-joking. “Because it’s ferocious and deadly?”

“Nope!” Thomas replied, grinning like a child about to deliver a punchline. “Because it defecates at least ten times a day—five times more than its kin!”

“Oh! Lord above, grant me strength.” Dante threw his head back, groaning toward the sky.

Thomas blinked, looking genuinely confused. “Lord? I thought the prison was unaffiliated with any faith or nation. Is that not true?”

“Don’t mind me,” Dante sighed, shaking his head. “It’s just a figure of speech.”

Without wasting any more time, Dante rolled up his sleeves—a gesture that felt wholly pointless given the nature of his task. Grabbing a shovel and a bucket, he trudged toward the group of Ember Iron Bears.

“Alright,” he muttered with a resigned grimace. “Let’s get this shitshow started.”