Ironscale Fishman Beast
After completing my evolution, my body now towers nearly three meters tall, robust and muscular. The scales covering my body are thick, as if I' m clad in armor.
My eyes can see farther, my nose can distinguish scents more keenly, and my mouth is filled with newly sprouted, sharp, and larger fangs.
I tested my strength on a turtle' s shell. What was once too hard to bite through is now soft and easy to chew, though I spat it out since it wasn' t food.
When I saw the vine pillar being constructed, I wanted to test this body' s capabilities.
I grabbed a crab and had it carry me within the attack range of the vine pillar, then stood to face it directly.
The vine pillar struck me like a nail, piercing the crab' s body and driving it into the ground.
Pain surged through my body, several ribs cracked, and I coughed up a large pool of blood.
Yet, my fist easily smashed through the tightly coiled vine pillar.
I still need to eat more. I quickly escaped the attack range to hunt for more food.
After crabs, it was turtles, then starfish and snakes.
While they fought each other, I focused only on eating and evolving.
Upon evolving again, my body is now packed with bulging muscles, my scales layered twice over, and I feel an immense surge of strength, far greater than before.
Now, arrows and small magic spells from the food above don' t even scratch my skin.
After each evolution, I' m ravenous, but now I can endure the hunger.
And food is abundant, scattered everywhere.
Then, the starfish released a mist that obscured my vision and paralyzed my sense of smell.
All I could do was sit and wait until a massive attack from the humans resounded, followed by my former allies breaching the city walls.
As the mist thinned and partially cleared, I followed to observe.
Ultimately, I decided not to follow them. The fighting outside was brutal, with no time to eat.
Reinforcements of food kept pouring in, as if they were doing everything to keep us trapped.
Then, within the city walls, the food was attacked by an ally of a different race.
This ally, black and shapeless like a massive liquid, cleared the mist entirely, and my former allies began their assault.
I blended in, slipping into the sea' s waves.
As I neared the front lines, the waves crashed into something.
I slowed down and swam against the current, letting my former allies clear a safe path.
As the battle escalated, the rear lines of my former allies were littered with their corpses and those of the food.
I ate heartily.
But then, a piece of food was thrown at me. I caught its arm mid-air.
It was trash food—scrawny, barely any meat, missing parts, and utterly unappetizing.
When I looked toward the source, I saw high-class food.
I recoiled in fear, even though this high-class food was cloaked, concealing its identity.
My scales trembled, as if warning me I couldn' t withstand this food.
I knew I couldn' t defeat this high-class food. Fighting it would mean certain death; my instincts screamed I had no chance.
Fortunately, it didn' t join the fight or target me.
Its gaze was fixed on the boss of my former allies, who had entered the battlefield.
When the food side saw this, they began forming ranks for a major battle.
That meant my position would become the main battlefield between my former allies and the food.
Retreating now would mean joining my former allies, which seemed safer, but calculating the distance and time, I' d likely get bombarded alongside them.
The high-class food' s giant flaming stone magic—I couldn' t withstand it.
I frantically scanned for the nearest safe spot.
I found a place the food avoided. Though risky to reach through their ranks, it had to be safer.
I sprinted, killing every food in my path with overwhelming strength.
Unarmored ones I slapped or squeezed, their heads bursting.
Armored ones I punched through with little effort.
Axes, swords, knives, and all sharp weapons—I took them head-on, unfazed, snapping them with my bare hands.
Arrows and magic didn' t even tickle my skin. Some aimed for my eyes, but my reflexes were sharp enough to sense them. Closing my eyes rendered their attacks like a breeze.
No pain, no itch.
I always avoided high-class food.
If I encountered a large group of mid-class food, I' d drag them toward my former allies.
Finally, I reached the black mist zone of my different-race ally.
It reeked, making me want to vomit, but it was a fair trade for safety.
Fire magic rained down relentlessly, but it couldn' t harm me.
Then, dizziness hit, and I collapsed to my knees, my body under attack from within.
My throat felt coated in sticky liquid, my digestion faltered, my body alternated between burning and freezing, and I fought the urge to vomit.
I needed to evolve quickly, but food was too far, and the fire magic kept coming.
Oh! What luck—I hadn' t realized I' d brought trash food with me in my fear.
No.
That wasn' t it.
The terrifying high-class food had thrown it to me. My subconscious feared it would be angry if I discarded the trash food without eating it.
All along, I' d protected it unknowingly, killing food with one hand the entire way.
As if it had to die by my hand alone, right, high-class food?
Fear proved useful, at least for evolving.
I opened my mouth wide, ready to swallow it.
"Don' t touch my friend!"
Crack!
"Argh!"
Before I could bite, my body jolted. Though brief, it startled me into tossing the trash food away.
The culprit: a low-class beast food, attacking my back when I wasn' t looking.
It lunged, grabbed my trash food, and fled the black mist zone.
Why? Why wasn' t it affected by the fire magic or black mist?
Upon closer inspection, I saw a faint red-orange aura enveloping it and the trash food.
*****
Zora, Dog-Human Beast, Slave?
Events before Vaniu fled the slime back to Pivoda' s main room.
"Don' t worry, Elda will stay with you. Sleep well."
I let myself relax and fell asleep, knowing I likely wouldn' t wake again.
Who bore me, where I was born—I' ll never know. My earliest memory is waking in a cage.
"Low-class slave," one of the [Fire Chain] guild' s merchants called us caged ones.
Hundreds of low-class slave cages were lined up in an open field, through sun, rain, wind, or snow.
We stayed there until bought or died from exhaustion.
We only ate when a low-class slave died.
Workers boiled the body and gave us each a ladleful, poured on the ground for us to lick.
If the merchants or workers disliked us, they' d step on it first. Only the well-behaved got meat.
As a beast, the merchants despised me. They not only gave me less but spat on it too.
With no choice, I ate.
After eating, I prayed to the Goddess, longing to meet my parents, know my birthplace, escape, or be bought by kind people.
But nothing ever changed—it only got worse.
After Pivoda bought me, slaves like us were mere objects to be used however they pleased. As a half-beast, I endured beatings better and survived.
They gambled our lives for mere coins.
Losers often blamed survivors like me for not helping.
I wanted to help, but Pivoda forbade helping anyone but myself.
I learned praying to the Goddess was futile—she didn' t exist.
I' d had enough suffering. But as my new friend comforted me in my final moments, I felt warmth in my heart for the first time. No one had ever been as kind as Elda.
If I must wish for Elda' s safety, I won' t pray to the deaf Goddess.
Anyone, just not her—please save my friend Elda.
My strength faded, my organs slowed.
Then, warmth seeped into my body, in various forms.
*****
The various high-quality healing potions Vaniu poured on Elda splashed and flowed onto Zora, quickly absorbing and saving her life just in time.
*****
The pain gradually eased, then vanished. Strength slowly returned.
When I awoke, the room was a mess, filled with blood and corpses.
Sounds of fighting and screams echoed outside intermittently.
I scanned the room for Elda to escape with her but couldn' t find her.
I decided to leave the room.
Then, I saw countless black slimes crawling everywhere.
"Roja, you bastard!"
Elda was being carried away by a man named Roja.
As they headed back to the room, I hid.
Then, I saw a necklace Pivoda' s men had mentioned for its abilities.
I' d heard slimes hate heat.
I grabbed the Fire Gem Necklace and put it on. Warmth surged through me instantly.
From what I' d heard, the necklace warms its wearer and burns threats with intense heat.
Hiding under Pivoda' s table, I pulled out a box.
Pivoda used it for stolen pets—a low-grade Pet Dimension Box to keep animals contained or transport them far.
Pivoda said it adjusts air and temperature for the animal inside.
Once, drunk, Pivoda bet on which slaves could survive ten minutes inside.
Every non-beast slave suffocated. I survived as a half-beast. The box was cramped for small animals, but it had soft padding and light if the animal wasn' t sleepy.
Though tight for me, forcing me to curl up, I had no choice. I climbed in and closed the lid.
Instantly, the airless box became breathable, the temperature cozy, lulling me to sleep. As the light faded, I drifted off unknowingly.