Yours To Claim

Feral Peak, Thousand Beast Mountain.

In this savage wilderness where the wind howls like beasts and blood nourishes the soil, the law of the jungle reigns supreme: the strong devour the weak, and the weak… simply disappear.

The denizens of the Beast Realm carved their survival with fang and claw, not ink and law. Unlike the petty squabbles of the human world—where schemes and insults fester behind polished smiles—here, survival was written with blood.

Each encounter might be your last and each breath was a defiance against death.

In this land, failure had no lesson. Only consequence.

And that consequence… was always death.

Nowhere was this law more apparent than in the legendary Thousand Beast Mountain—a forsaken domain, a land of exiles and lunatics. Banished orcs, man-eating beasts, hermits shunning the suffocating laws of the Beast Cities… they had all carved their own blood-soaked kingdoms in this mountainous graveyard of dreams.

In time, tribes arose. Mountains were named. Territories were marked.

Among these, Feral Peak stood tallest—not in height, but in ferocity.

It was a land where the air stank of blood, and even the wind carried the sharpness of fangs. The ferals here did not just kill to survive; they thrived on it. Only the deep, yawning ravines beneath the peak whispered more danger.

--

It was beneath this merciless sky, on a blistering noon day, that the world shifted.

The sun blazed high, and the heat had begun to scald even the stone. But as though Heaven itself had changed its mind, the sky darkened with uncanny suddenness.

Thunder roared and streaks of lightning painted the sky. Clouds surged like a tidal wave overhead, blanketing the peak in oppressive gloom.

However, the beastmen on the outside barely lifted their heads before they continued and returned to what they were doing.

Weather changing, lightning striking or even black hole itself appearing randomly like spores of mushroom in the forest, it didn't matter. They had long learned not to question the whims of this cursed land and the temperament of the creatures who causes these unprecedented changes.

Inside a shadowed cavern tucked beneath the mountain's jaw, a low retch echoed.

Sol wiped his lips with trembling fingers, his expression pale and drawn. Cold sweat clung to his skin as he leaned back against the wall, his black tail slackened around him like a collapsed chain of obsidian.

His gaze lingered on the thunderclouds gathering outside the mouth of the cave, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

"Your foolish mother is late," he rasped, his voice hoarse, like dry leaves dragged across stone, seemingly conversing with the life in his belly.

Just then, at the faintest rustle from the cave's entrance, Sol's weary body tensed. His back straightened instinctively, and the tip of his tail curled.

Is she back?

He looked up and subconsciously sniffed himself to check if he smells nasty and would appear unpleasant to the female.

Wait, why does he even care about who she would perceive him? The man shook his head and mentally chastised himself for acting strange.

"I'm not trying to groom myself to please your mother. Don't be foolish..."

Sol cleared his throat and waited silently in his spot without looking as though he was never bothered at all. But even so, his face betrayed little and a flicker of light passed through his deep slitted eyes—an emotion he dared not name.

Though he would never admit it, her absence gnawed at him. While her very presence makes him flustered at times.

That strange, soft-hearted woman who called him "husband" without shame while tending on him like he was someone precious to her.

Who eagerly recounted every trivial event of her day as if they were shared memories. She laughed often. Smiled easily and worry just as much.

She had never cared about him and his unborn children before whether they perish all at once but now, that woman seemed to have grow a little brain and sympathy for them. She even brought him random little snacks like offerings from a distant world to soothe his cravings.

Well, not that it ever helped. Since most of the things she would bring were either smelly or greens.

He's a freaking carnivore and an apex predator for Pete's sake!

Sol internally grumbled and looked down at the swell of his belly where the tiny lives are growing within—his children.

Their children.

A blush crept on his pale cheeks but it didn't linger for long as few things struck his mind and make the pregnant man buried in deep thoughts.

Would she still smile when the time came to lay the eggs?

Would she still care after he give birth?

Would... Would she stay?

Sol might not have realized this much but he was becoming anxious day by day, plagued with the thoughts that he never dreamed of having before. He did not know why she started caring for him. But her warmth, foolish as it was, had seeped into the deepest chambers of his cold-blooded heart, melting the frost that had never known spring.

Before his thoughts could wander further, a mocking voice sliced through the gloom.

"Well, well. What have we here?"

Sol's breath caught. His pupils narrowed into slits.

"A cramped lair… and a hideous pregnant beastman," the voice drawled with venomous amusement. "You look pathetic, Sol."

"… Cyan?" Sol hissed the name like a curse. "How did you—"

"Oh," the voice cut him off, "Are you going to ask how did I find your little lair?"

A tall figure stepped into the cave, his presence dark and arrogant, a grin curling across his lips like a knife's edge. His scales shimmered with a bluish hue, and his eyes glinted with malice.

"I must say, you did a great job hiding in this dump for months. To think you were just in the tip of our noses. That's so genius of you dear brother." Cyan said sarcastically with a slow clap. However, his words that came out were more like a threat than praise, "What's with the surprise face? Do you think you can continue hiding from us forever? I didn't know you can be so stupid while I say you were quite brilliant."

The man rolled his eyes and shrugged.

Meanwhile, the tip of Sol's tail flicked up, sharpened like a blade. Though he could barely lift his limbs, the instinct to strike had not dulled.

"Stop the unnecessary talk. You entered this cave while knowing its my dwelling place. Did you come to challenge me? I could kill you here and now," Sol growled, voice low but deadly. "Leave, before I forget our blood ties."

Dark mist began to curl from his body. The aura he once wielded like a blade stirred once more, threatening and cold. But Cyan only laughed, the sound echoing with mockery.

"You? Strike me?" Cyan scoffed. "Oh please! You didn't even notice me until I opened my mouth. Face it, brother—you're weak. So weak you can't even stand. And you still pretend you're the same old Sol who once ruled the Southern Peaks?"

His gaze fell upon Sol's bulging belly with a sneer.

"Try fighting me now and you'll crush those precious unborn cubs of yours. Go ahead, I dare you."

Sol's jaw clenched. His claws curled into the dirt beneath him.

He said nothing.

Yes, Cyan was right. The very existence of the lives inside him held him back. Once, he would have struck without hesitation. But now, hesitation was his curse.

And this humiliation… was his punishment.

All because of her.

The woman with that cursed physique who drained his beast core with every touch. Because of her, he could barely support his own body, let alone fight. She had rendered him into this… this useless, crumbling shell.

Yet even as rage surged in his veins, a contradictory fear crept in. He hoped she wouldn't return now—not while Cyan was here.

Because Cyan… was not someone who spared females.

Especially not weak ones whom he only see as broodmares and a burden.

Especially... not his.

Even if she had drained him, even if he had grown weak because of her, she was still his mate. That foolish woman had no idea what kind of danger she courted just by breathing in front of Cyan.

She was his mate. Although he had long decided to let her go if she ever finds a new mate to atone for his sin, he would rather die than hand her over to another feral like him.

"What? Cat got your tongue?" Cyan chuckled darkly, stepping further into the cave.

His eyes roamed over the nest-like corner, the discarded herbs, the half-eaten fruits and the musty odor that was no better than a pigsty.

"Filthy," Cyan said with disgust, brushing a vine out of his way. "So this is where you've been hiding her? How generous of you, keeping such a delicacy to yourself."

"Didn't you take that accursed female here to hide from us? Look at what became of you because you don't want to share. It's a well-deserved consequence, don't you think so?"

Then his voice dropped, laced with poison.

"Now, tell me, brother. Where is she? Where is that little female you kept so dearly? You've had your fill—now be a good brother and hand her over. Before I stop asking nicely."