Pet

Hundreds of thousands of beastmen roared in unison. The scene was beyond shocking—vast plains strewn with the corpses of countless demons, their twisted forms rotting under the bloodstained sky.

Through sheer rebellion and relentless violence, the beastmen had emerged victorious.

Their guttural, primal cries filled the air. Though incomprehensible to outsiders, the native tongue of the beastmen, if translated, would carry a single vow: "We will never be slaves."

The Abyss was endless, its vast and shadowy regions a mystery even to its inhabitants. Yet what unfolded here was far from unusual—it was the brutal daily existence of this forsaken realm.

Blood battles.

In the Abyss, there were no eternal allies. The smallest slight, the faintest conflict, could ignite into a storm of blood and violence. Trust was an alien concept, lost in the constant slaughter.

As the echoes of the beastmen's final victory roar faded from Chen Feng's mind, the fragmented images in his consciousness slowly dissipated. His eyes flickered open, a brief moment of contemplation crossing his gaze.

The summoning was complete.

Chen Feng's mental strength surged, bolstered by the Balrog's Sigil. His mastery over the silver realm ensured the success of this summoning—it was almost inevitable.

Before him, a scarlet crack tore open in the air.

The fissure wasn't merely a break in space but a gateway, a portal through which the pungent stench of sulfur flooded the room.

This was the Abyss.

For a summoner like Chen Feng, each call momentarily bridged the walls between dimensions, allowing him to reach into the Abyss and draw forth what lay within. If he wished, he could step through the crack now and descend into that hellish realm.

To most, the Abyss was forbidden—an endless wasteland teeming with demons, monstrosities, and horrors beyond imagination. Few understood, however, that beneath its nightmarish surface lay untold power. The air, though suffocating and acrid, was charged with energy, at least twice as potent as the outside world.

And the resources…

The Abyss was rich in rare minerals, essential to the creation of powerful artifacts. In the future, Arcane Crystal Cannons, weapons that blended elemental and thermal power, would be crafted. Their materials were precious and finite in the human world, each bit consumed meant a dwindling supply.

But in the Abyss, these resources were abundant, as common as dirt underfoot.

Danger and opportunity intertwined.

Though tempting, Chen Feng knew it wasn't yet time to explore the Abyss. For now, it was a death trap. A silver realm individual was little more than cannon fodder in that forsaken realm, destined to be sent to the frontlines of the eternal blood wars.

Only those who reached the Legend Realm could afford to walk the lands of the Abyss and survive.

Suppressing the hunger for power that swelled in his chest, Chen Feng shifted his focus back to the crack. Now, having ascended to silver realm, he had four summoning slots at his disposal. And today, those slots would be filled.

Beastmen.

In the Abyss, the beastmen had forged a brutal, warlike culture. They held no alliances of significance—demons were their mortal enemies, but their relations with dwarves, goblins, and elves were equally hostile.

Warriors born of violence.

From the moment of their birth, the beastmen were cast into battle. They waged war on demons, elves, dwarves, goblins, even the undead. Their lives were nothing but bloodshed.

Though flesh and blood, they possessed a death-seeking spirit not unlike the undead. But theirs wasn't a decayed, hollow existence—it was an unyielding, defiant courage that drove them onward.

Never slaves.

The beastmen had carved their freedom from the bones of their oppressors. This fierce will to fight had been etched into their very essence. In the Abyss, they were relentless enemies, feared by all who crossed their path.

"Come forth!"

Chen Feng's patience had reached its limit. His fists clenched, his gaze ignited with fierce determination. The crack in front of him expanded rapidly, doubling in size until it dominated the room like a gaping maw.

A terrifying aura poured through.

The suffocating presence of the Abyss filled the air, so potent that even the nearby insects felt their souls shudder. Without warning, swarms of bugs fled the hospital in terror. The morgue, the corridors, the very earth itself was abandoned as the creatures scattered, desperate to escape.

Within minutes, the once teeming hospital grounds were silent. Even the bronze realm insects, hiding in the darkest shadows, had fled—driven away by the malevolent energy that now filled the space.

Summon!

The ritual had reached its peak.

Suddenly, a flickering silhouette emerged from the crack, coalescing before Chen Feng.

A figure stood tall—a woman, fierce and untamed, with short crimson hair that brushed against her sharp, angular face. Her cold, violet eyes gleamed with an eerie light, piercing through the dimness around them. Beneath a small, pointed nose, thin lips curled ever so slightly, and a bone collar adorned her neck like a mark of primal authority. An animal-skin garment hung loosely around her waist, revealing long, muscular legs, and her feet were wrapped in fibers woven from plants, further accentuating her feral nature.

She radiated a chilling aura—wild, raw, and uncontainable.

But it wasn't just her appearance that stood out. Perched atop her head were sleek, feline ears, and behind her, a slender, fur-covered tail flicked impatiently.

This was no ordinary beastman.

She was a female beastman, a creature of wild instincts and savage grace.

In most cases, the word 'woman' evoked a sense of elegance or fragility, but to apply it here felt wrong.

Ferocity.

That was the essence of her being.

She stood like a predator in the thick of battle, her icy gaze locked onto Chen Feng, fingers splayed to reveal claws that glinted under the faint light. Her lips parted slightly, exposing sharp, glistening canines. There was no fear in her stance, no hesitation. Only raw, primal instinct—prepared to kill or be killed.

Catwoman.

Her violet eyes gleamed like the eyes of a beast at midnight, her arched brows lending her an air of intense focus, and her long lashes trembled with barely restrained energy. Her wheat-toned skin gleamed with vitality, adding to the fierce beauty of her form.

Beastmen were a race of many faces.

Aside from the common war-hardened lizardfolk, gnolls, and tauren—those savage warriors who formed the bulk of beastman armies—there were smaller, more fragile races that lived on the fringes: catfolk, rabbitfolk, foxfolk. Unlike their brutal kin, these races bore strikingly human features, their beauty akin to the fabled elves.

But beauty was a curse.

These creatures, while physically weaker, were cursed with allure. To their brutish kin, they were seen not as warriors or allies but as treasures to be conquered. Males were hunted down and slaughtered, while females were enslaved—trophies in the hands of their captors, subjected to endless degradation and torment.

They were not treated as beastmen. They were treated as pets.

In the vast abyss, they were as fragile as glass. A single misstep, a gust of ill fortune, and their kind could be wiped from existence. Centuries of unrelenting bloodshed and enslavement had already erased many of these once-proud races.

The few who remained lived like hunted animals, forced to the margins of existence, scraping by on whatever they could find.

In the chaos of the abyss, even the weakest creatures—goblins and kobolds, barely capable of independent thought—would seek them out, ambushing and slaughtering them without mercy.

The misery of their existence was unimaginable.