Chapter 3

Pain.

Piercing pain.

I thought I'd be smashed to pulp or poisoned to death by the toxic mist at the cliff's bottom. But I wasn't. I hung on a massive dead tree, its branches piercing through my thigh, blood gushing out.

Everything around was dark, the air thick with pungent rot and intense wild beast scent.

This was the bottom of Sin Beast Cliff.

I gritted my teeth and pulled my thigh off the branch bit by bit.

"Hiss--" I gasped in pain and fell heavily onto moss-covered rocks.

Before I could catch my breath, several pairs of eerie green eyes suddenly lit up in the darkness.

Hyenas.

The lowest scavengers at the cliff's bottom.

They'd caught the scent of blood and were drooling as they closed in on me.

I fumbled for a rock and gripped it tightly, staring them down.

Even if I die, I'm taking one with me.

Just as the lead hyena prepared to pounce --

"ROAR!"

A low, hoarse beast roar carrying terrifying pressure came from nearby.

The pack of hyenas fled whimpering with their tails between their legs, as if they'd seen some terrible monster.

I looked toward the sound.

A tall shadow emerged from the thick fog.

It was a man.

Or rather, a half-beast.

His upper body was bare, muscles coiled, covered with horrifying crisscrossing scars.

Most striking was his right leg -- below the knee, empty. He leaned on a crude black bone crutch, approaching me step by step.

He walked up to me, looking down from above. In the faint light, I finally saw his face clearly.

An extremely wild, handsome face, but with a claw mark on his left cheek so deep bone showed through, destroying the beauty and making it exceptionally fierce.

He had dark green vertical pupils.

A black panther.

I recognized him.

Dante Blackwood.

Once the greatest warrior of Beast Mountain, chief of the Black Panther Tribe.

Five years ago, while resisting the beast tide, he lost a leg and his face was ruined. Betrayed by his tribesmen, he was pushed off Sin Beast Cliff.

Everyone thought he was dead.

I never expected he'd survived and become the overlord of this cliff bottom.

"Lion Tribe scent." He spoke, his voice like sandpaper, ice-cold.

He lifted my chin with his crutch, looking at me like garbage. "Are those above throwing down trash like you now?"

I bit my lip and said nothing.

I didn't want to explain or beg for mercy.

He stared at me for a few seconds, seeming to find me uninteresting. He withdrew his crutch and turned to leave.

"Wait!" I don't know where I found the strength, but I lunged forward and grabbed his good leg.

His body stiffened. He looked down at me, killing intent flashing in his eyes. "Let go."

"No." I held on tight. "Take me with you. I can work. I know herbs. I can sew beast hides."

I knew that at this cliff bottom, an injured female like me wouldn't survive the night. Dante was my only chance at survival.

He sneered. "I don't need trash."

"I'm not trash!" I raised my head, looking straight into those terrifying vertical pupils. "I just can't bear children, but I can help you live better at this cliff bottom!"

He narrowed his eyes, seeming to assess my value. After a long while, he kicked me away.

"If you can keep up, come. Die halfway, and it's your bad luck."

With that, he walked away without looking back. I gritted my teeth, covered my bleeding thigh, and limped after him.