The cab rattled along the road as the city blurred past. Ethan leaned back in the seat, then casually brought up the System Interface.
A translucent blue screen flickered into existence in front of him, which only he was able to see. It hadn't appeared in the mirror was one thing, but it also hadn't appeared to Mark, which confirmed it to him.
As he interacted with it, he noticed the taxi driver glance into the rear-view mirror multiple times before frowning. Ethan didn't care, nor did he mind being thought of as crazy; he was kind of getting used to it at this point.
He skimmed over the tabs he'd already checked - Status, Skills, Beasts - before pausing at the very last one, which he hadn't opened yet.
Objectives.
Curious, he pressed on it, and a single line appeared, stark and ominous.
{Objective: Return to the Tower Of Beasts}
Ethan stared at it.
Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face, one that didn't stem from fear or dread, but excitement.
'That damned tower…'
He had struggled, bled and literally died in it, being eaten alive by Ulfens, yet he couldn't wait to return to it.
"Once I get back in there," he muttered under his breath, "once I make my beasts and myself stronger…"
His grin widened.
"I'm gonna be OP as fuck."
But first things first, he needed to register as a Titled.
'Properly this time.'
What Ethan didn't know was that the moment he decided that, invisible gears had already begun turning. And somewhere in the city, he'd just earned the attention of a man who never let go of a scent once he caught it...
-
Ethan Crowe was the 999th candidate for the Title Lord Of Beasts, which meant, theoretically, there had been 998 others before him.
That much, Ethan had already pieced together - the scattered human bones near the tower's starting area had made that painfully clear.
What he hadn't considered… was the pattern it created.
Across the world, people, healthy people, were dying quietly in their sleep.
There was no illness, warning, or struggle, just suddenly having their souls crushed after failing a trial.
Nearly a thousand deaths, scattered across a planet of eight billion - it was statistically insignificant. Tragic, yes, but practically invisible.
The issue was that some of them had done exactly what Ethan had: gone to their nearest Titled Association, asked to be tested, and failed the test.
That much was also negligible in the grand scheme of things, but some of whom had even revealed the Title they had supposedly received:
"Seigneur des Betes."
"Povelitel Zverey."
"Senor de las Bestias."
The Title had appeared sporadically around the world over the past few years, always vanishing just as quickly.
None of its supposed bearers ever survived long enough to truly claim it or wield its power.
All of them died the same way: in their sleep.
The Association had noticed, but with Gates erupting worldwide and rogue Titled threatening global stability, it was a footnote at best.
Yes, there was a pattern, yes, people had lost their lives, but no one truly cared or bothered looking into it.
Except one man.
A man known within the Association as the Bloodhound.
He was relentless, obsessive, and inhumanly thorough.
On something that most wouldn't even give a second glance, he kept logs of names, dates, and locations. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find anything that linked all these individuals aside from one thing...
They were all people who had lived troubled lives.
What metric could he use for that? There was no way to measure how tough a life one had lived. Certain data points could be used, but they were more a correlation than a causation.
Things like a family's financial situation, whether they were an orphan, or if they had a criminal record - this was the best he could do.
Despite not having much to go on, he didn't drop the case.
He continued receiving the names of those who claimed to be Titled and failed their assessment, while applying that additional lens.
And now? One of those flagged names hadn't died overnight.
Instead, that same man had walked back into the Association building the very next day...
-
Ethan pushed through the Association doors, irritation already simmering beneath the surface. The same woman sat at the front desk: short brown hair, empty smile, zero patience.
"How can I help you t-" she began, before looking up.
Then she sighed.
"We cannot waste government resources. Faking the receipt of a Title is a criminal offence punishable by-"
"Yeah, whatever."
Ethan didn't even bother listening to what she had to say and walked right past her.
He spotted the woman with antennae, the one who'd assessed him the day prior. She had been professional and friendly, so maybe she would be of more use.
But as he began to approach her, security moved in instantly.
Two men in black suits intercepted him, hands firm on his arms.
"Sir," one said flatly, "only Association employees are allowed beyond this point."
"Whoa, relax," Ethan said, raising his hands slightly. "I just wanted to-"
"If you are not escorted or approved for an assessment, you need to leave now before we have to-"
Ethan sighed.
"Let me guess. Throw me out on my ass?"
Neither man answered.
And honestly? He couldn't blame them.
'I can't beat these oafs, and even if I could, I'd just end up back in prison after being trashed by the Titled in this building.'
After his encounter with Mace earlier, Ethan wasn't looking to get his ass handed to him.
As such, he stepped back, about to give up and head back, when the woman with antennae noticed him.
She approached, gaze sharp but curious.
"Do you remember me from yesterday?" Ethan asked.
"I do," she replied coolly. "I conducted your assessment, but unfortunately, you were not a Titled. According to our policy, reassessments can only occur after one month, unless there are special circumstances."
'Special circumstances…?'
"Is that so?" Ethan said carefully.
She studied him for a moment.
Then asked bluntly, "Are you an S Rank Titled?"
Ethan blinked in confusion.
"Only S Ranks possess Conditional Titles," she explained. "Titles that require criteria to be met before fully manifesting. It's an open secret. Every S Rank had to overcome something before awakening their abilities."
'Ah, so that's what Mark was eluding to…'
Before he could respond, she continued.
"If you had S Rank abilities, we wouldn't be having this conversation. You'd be able to shake this building, and even the city, with your power."
He couldn't argue with her logic, and to make matters worse, a crowd was beginning to form.
With a subtle motion, she signalled the guards to get rid of him, and they immediately tightened their grips.
"Sir," one said, "you need to leave."
Ethan exhaled slowly.
'Of course, things didn't go as planned.'
The guards moved to escort him out, and Ethan resigned himself to it, but that's when things took an interesting turn...