In the game, Wein had spent weeks scouring the realms in search of Sacred Beasts—but he only ever found one, hidden deep within Beast Realm 50.
When he finally located it, he had to defeat it in battle before a contract could be formed. The fight was brutal. Wein burned through his entire savings—every beast crystal he owned, even his emergency stash—just to afford a legendary weapon and high-tier skills necessary for victory.
Eventually, he succeeded. He defeated the beast and claimed the contract, but the cost was steep.
From that day on, Midnight became his sole companion. As he progressed from level 50 to 100, he never contracted another beast. Sacred Beasts were different. With one in hand, ordinary spirit beasts only became burdens—extra mouths to feed with beast crystals and contracts that drained resources without offering real value.
Midnight wasn't just a mount. Wein had invested heavily in his skills, turning him into a force of his own. For Wein, Midnight wasn't just a beast—he was a partner, a trump card, a symbol of everything he'd worked for. Losing him now wasn't an option.
And now, in this new world that mirrored the game, Wein was determined to make him his again.
To do that, he needed power. Fast.
To contract a beast with a full spiritual bond, a challenger had to first awaken their Spiritual Core, a feat only achievable after conquering the Tenth Floor of the Beast Tower and earning the title of Beast Fighter. Without that, all contracts were shallow—blood bonds without mind-link. Such beasts behaved more like pets, unconnected, unfeeling, requiring training and instruction.
Just like Minsi, Terr's Goldenfur beast was primarily used as a mount. While it could handle ordinary animals, it struggled against true spirit beasts.
But with a Spiritual Core awakened, the bond became something else entirely.
The challenger and the beast became one mind and one spirit.
If the challenger died, the beast died too. But as long as the challenger lived, the spirit beast wouldn't perish—it would only need time to recover, no matter how grievous the wound.
So when the crowd eventually dispersed and Bran Crestfall's shadow vanished into the horizon, Wein and Terr returned to the inn, retiring early.
Wein had made up his mind.
He would leave the town at first light.
Even though Bran had warned against traveling, Wein believed differently.
"I think we should leave tomorrow," he said that night. "Yes, staying here sounds safer, but think about it—if the Alliance, with challengers stronger than us, couldn't catch that beast, what chance do these townsfolk have? And besides, if that beast wanted to cause destruction, it would head for a more populated area, so this place was not really safe as it looked."
Terr frowned thoughtfully. Wein continued, "If it's just the two of us, we can move fast and stay unnoticed."
After a moment, Terr nodded. "You're not wrong. And we're heading to the Beast Tower anyway. That place is crawling with high-level challengers. If anything happens, we'll be better off there than waiting nervously here."
And so, at dawn, they departed.
They traveled for two more days, following winding roads, shaded forest paths, and mountain trails. Along the way, they never caught a glimpse of Midnight again. Wein figured it made sense—Midnight had flown in the opposite direction. Perhaps he was hiding, waiting for a chance to reach out.
At noon on the second day, under a golden, cloudless sky, the Beast Tower finally came into view.
The air was warm with a gentle breeze. The road had widened, and the crowds thickened. Travelers, traders, challengers filled the path. Merchants shouted over the noise, offering elixirs, charms, and hastily forged weapons.
Terr pulled Minsi to a halt. The Goldenfur huffed softly, its tongue hanging from its mouth as it panted from the heat.
Wein lifted his gaze.
And froze.
The Beast Tower rose like a divine pillar that pierced the heavens.
It was enormous—so wide he couldn't see its full base from where he stood. It stretched across the horizon like a wall of shimmering crystal. The tower's body was made entirely from beast crystals—trillions of them, layered like scales, fused into a structure that glittered under the sun. Rays of sunlight struck its surface and scattered into rainbow shards that danced across the sky and ground.
The tower reached so high its tip vanished into the clouds. And even then, Wein had the eerie feeling that it extended far beyond—into the heavens, maybe even another realm.
Bands of light circled the tower at intervals, separating the levels. Each glowing ring hovered like a celestial halo, and the higher they were, the brighter they burned—until the topmost rings gleamed like miniature suns.
Wein felt small.
Smaller than ever.
At the base of the tower sprawled a massive settlement, practically a city. Inns, restaurants, smithies, shops, contract halls, clinics, and more lined the polished stone streets.
The place was alive with noise and movement.
Some people were resting from their climb. Others exited the tower, bloodied and exhausted. A few cheered in celebration.
There was tension here, yes—but also thrill. Anticipation. Hope.
Wein spotted a tall woman in black armor moving through the crowded street. The moment she appeared, people instinctively stepped aside to make way.
Pinned to her chest was a golden badge engraved with the tower's emblem and the number 4—a clear symbol that she was a high-ranking challenger who had reached Level 40 and earned the fourth title: Beast King.
Even without speaking, she radiated authority. Her presence alone commanded respect.
Wein quickly looked away, careful not to stare for too long. In most novels, situations like this were a guaranteed way to get into trouble—and he had no intention of testing that trope.
He gave his full attention to Terr, who was explaining how the Beast Tower worked.
"To enter the tower," Terr explained, "you just walk into it. The Beast Tower is like a spirit structure—you can't physically touch it. You'll pass right through, and it will automatically send you to your designated level."
Wein nodded silently, his eyes never leaving the massive tower.
"There are so many people," he muttered, awed. "It looks more like a festival than a battlefield."
Terr, beside him, crossed his arms. "Every day, hundreds come to challenge the tower. So seeing this many people isn't surprising. You'll get used to it eventually."
Wein looked back up at the shining colossus.
The Beast Tower wasn't just a proving ground—it was a mystery no one had ever fully unraveled.
And now, he would have to challenge that mystery himself.