Chapter One: The Divine Martial Beast

At eighteen years old, Devourer was still only a meter and a half tall, yet weighed an astonishing one hundred kilograms. To any onlooker, he resembled a comical, oversized ball. According to his unfortunate parents, Devourer had displayed an extraordinary appetite from birth, which is why, in their overjoyed state, they named him Devourer.

However, as Devourer grew, the smiles on his parents’ faces faded; their child put on weight at an alarming rate. Delighted, Devourer clutched a biospore the size of a soccer ball and boarded the public airship home.

It was common belief among humans that fusing with a biospore marked the true passage into adulthood. The optimal age for this fusion was eighteen—an odd phenomenon, as if the biospores themselves could discern the age of their human hosts. Those older or younger than eighteen could not complete the fusion. So, despite most human nations officially recognizing adulthood at twenty-five, the people believed that once you’d fused with a biospore, you were grown.

Devourer hurried home, cradling the biospore, to the family’s three-story house in the suburbs. As soon as he entered, he shouted joyfully to his mother, who was sitting in the living room, “Mom, I got my biospore!”

But Devourer paused, puzzled. His mother did not look happy; instead, there was a trace of sorrow in her eyes.

While Devourer was still surprised, his father walked in from the inner room. Devourer and his father bore a striking resemblance—both were exceedingly fat, though his father was three times Devourer’s height, a veritable giant compared to his tall, willowy mother, who seemed tiny next to her husband.

Devourer’s father wore a heavy expression, and Devourer, confused, asked, “Dad, what’s wrong with you and Mom? Now that I have my biospore, I can train in the third level of your Dragon Warrior Technique!”

At this, his mother sighed and took Devourer’s left hand. It was completely different from his right—not even human, but larger, covered in thumb-sized, blue-black scales, with fine scales even along the fingers.

Devourer himself had never understood why his hand looked this way, and his parents had refused to explain. Because of this hand and his body, he had endured relentless ridicule over the years.

While Devourer puzzled over his parents’ behavior, his mother turned to his father and said, “Fatty, just let our little chub fuse with this biospore. I only wish for him to live safely with us, to marry and have children. There’s no need to go home and get any others. Though he’s talented in martial arts, I just want him to live an ordinary, peaceful life.”

Devourer, hearing this strange remark, asked curiously, “Mom, what do you mean? Are we going back to see Grandpa? I haven’t seen Grandpa and Grandma in years. When will we visit them?”

At this, his parents both sighed. His father patted his head and said, “Alright, chubby, I’ll take you to see your grandparents in a few days. But first, go to the training room and fuse with your biospore.”

Delighted, Devourer nodded and dashed into the room where he usually practiced the Dragon Warrior Technique.

Three days later, Devourer emerged from the training room with a bitter expression. Though his parents knew that the ordinary biospore he’d used would not produce a high-quality Divine Beast, seeing his disappointment made them feel a pang of regret.

Through millennia of trial and error, humanity had discovered that the type of Divine Beast birthed from a biospore was closely tied to human genetics. Most people knew this, but few realized the biospore’s own nature also played a role.

On that strange planet, biospores hovered in the air. The kind distributed to the general populace, like Devourer’s, were collected with starships from high altitude. The closer a biospore was to the planet’s surface, the higher its quality, and the more powerful its fused Divine Beast would become. However, the planet was riddled with deadly, corrosive air currents that could eat through even starship alloy hulls. Only true experts could descend to the surface and harvest the finest biospores.

This fact was never revealed to ordinary citizens.

Devourer’s parents never hoped for him to cultivate a battle-divine beast of extraordinary power. Still, they worried his Divine Beast would be too weak, which would reflect poorly on his own genes—a thought that nagged at them.

His father had taken time off work just to witness what kind of Divine Beast his son would summon after the fusion. Seeing Devourer’s current demeanor, he asked with concern, “Son, what’s wrong? What kind of Divine Beast did you get? Show Dad.”

Devourer replied glumly, “It’s a plant type.”

At this, his parents’ faces fell. Plant-type Divine Beasts were nearly synonymous with uselessness; their offensive power was weak, and though legends spoke of powerful plant-types, such cases were exceedingly rare.

After a long silence, his father finally said, “Don’t worry, son. Plant type or not, if you nurture it well and help it evolve several times, maybe it’ll grow strong in its own way.”

Yet even in his words, it was clear he had little faith in a plant-type Divine Beast.

Devourer understood that, in the Caro Empire, where martial prowess equated to status, a weak Divine Beast meant a life with little standing. He couldn’t help but sigh as well.

Seeing both father and son so dejected, his mother hurried to comfort them. “Come now, we haven’t even seen your Divine Beast yet. Son, summon it so we can take a look.”

Devourer sighed again, glancing down at himself, and thought of how his Divine Beast was the most useless, plant type. A surge of sorrow welled up inside him. Fighting back tears, he called forth the Divine Beast that had been nurtured from his biospore.