My grandfather was one of the mightiest warriors in the Beastmen's Behemoth Legion. Eighty or ninety years ago, he once killed a dragon barehanded, earning him titles like "First Hero of the Beastmen" and "First Hero of the Behemoths." Standing over five meters tall, he had few rivals across the entire continent in his time.
To counter the growing power of humanity, the Beastmen and the Demon Clan formed a series of political marriages. My grandfather became part of these alliances, marrying the daughter of a concubine of the Demon Emperor—my grandmother.
My grandmother was the closest person to me in this world—or at least she would have been if she were still alive. She would have turned eighty-five this year. She was the kindest soul to me. Married to my grandfather when she was just sixteen (he was already over forty), she often told me she was a victim of politics.
Clearly, her marriage to the Beastmen kingdom was not voluntary. But thank the heavens she did, for without her, I wouldn't exist.
My father, grandfather's only son, inherited his superior bloodline. Standing over five meters tall, even now, his arms are thicker than my waist. By eighteen, he had already defeated every Beastmen challenger. Fierce and brutal, he wields overwhelming strength as the current "First Hero of the Behemoths," leader of the Behemoth Legion, and the undisputed Behemoth King. Under his command, the Beastmen have suffered no major defeats in recent decades. Thus, his reputation among the Beastmen rivals even that of the Beast Emperor.
Given his noble status, he naturally had countless concubines. I am the son of him and a human woman he abducted. Among his four sons, I am the youngest and was once his least favorite.
My mother was a tragic woman. No one knew her origins. Though not yet forty, she looked ancient, her face etched with premature wrinkles and white hair. Only her silhouette hinted at her former beauty. She hated my father, despised him, and by extension, hated me—the son born from his violation.
She never truly won my father's affection and endured constant bullying from his other concubines. It wasn't until four years ago, when I gained influence, that she finally got a house of her own. She rarely spoke, and her icy gaze chilled me to the bone.
I, sixteen years old, am a hybrid of Beastmen, Demon, and human. As the deputy leader of the Behemoth Legion, I stand two meters tall. My human traits dominate my appearance; to others, I look like a handsome human youth. Only my Behemoth-like strength and innate divine power betray my Beastmen heritage.
I hate my father—for tormenting my mother, for causing my grandmother's death. Though her death paved the way for my rise, I'd trade it all to have her back, the grandmother who doted on me.
Four years ago, everyone bullied me. Behind my father's back, they called me a "half-breed." Except for my eldest brother, who treated me normally, all dismissed me as my father's worst son. My life was worse than a servant's. Back then, only Grandma cared for me, cooking me treats and keeping me company, warming my lonely heart.
Her death remains my greatest pain. That day…
"Lei Xiang, come! Grandma made your favorite braised chicken wings!" her kind voice called.
"Coming!" I dashed to the kitchen, greeted by rich aromas. "Grandma, I love you!"
"Silly boy, eat up." Her wrinkles deepened as she smiled, time's marks stark on her frail frame.
I grabbed a wing and scampered outside, nibbling as I hopped around the yard. Grandma lived apart from the family for peace, and I, ignored by all, stayed with her.
In the Beastmen kingdom, where the law of the jungle ruled, such tranquility was rare. But no Beastmen dared hunt near our home.
A gruff voice boomed behind me: "Lei Xiang, where's your grandma?"
I froze. Five hulking figures blocked the sunlight. At the center stood my father, flanked by four Behemoth guards. He'd come to see Grandma—odd, given their strained relationship. Though allied with the Demon Clan, Father scorned most Demons, respecting only the Fallen Angel Corps. To him, strength was everything; a frail Demon like Grandma meant nothing.
"She's inside," I whispered, trembling.
Disgusted by my timidity, Father slapped the wing from my hand. "Pathetic! You're no son of mine!"
Tears fell as I stared at the dirtied wing. He backhanded me to the ground. "Crying? Weakling! At your age, your brothers could rip tigers apart. You can't even kill a chicken!" He stomped the wing.
Grandma rushed out, helping me up. "Why hit him on your rare visit?"
Father sneered. "None of your business. Guards! Take this runt to his second brother for discipline!"
Second Brother Lei Hu's temper was infamous. Grandma shielded me. "Leave the child alone!"
Father yanked me away and tossed me to a guard. "I discipline my son as I please. Stay out of it if you want to live." He turned to leave.
Grandma's face flushed with rage. "Lei Ao! Is that how you speak to your mother?!"
She lunged at the guard holding me. The Behemoth shrugged her off, sending her crashing into a rock. Blood gushed from her mouth.
A cold dread seized me. "GRANDMA!" My innate divine power erupted. At twelve, I broke free from the Behemoth's grip.
Cradling her, I begged Father: "Save her! Please!"
Grandma weakly gripped my hand. "Don't beg him… take me inside…"
The guard knelt. "Lord Lei Ao, I—"
Father glanced at her. "Let her die. Bury her with some coins."
To him, a Behemoth guard outweighed her life.
Rage ignited my blood. With a roar, my hair turned crimson. I charged the guard at five times my speed, ramming him airborne. My fist plunged into his stomach.
His counterstrike met my raised arm. Our clash echoed. Though my feet sank into earth, I held. With a scream, explosive energy burst from me, tearing a hole through his torso.
As he collapsed, Father murmured, stunned: "Lei Xiang… berserked… No Behemoth has berserked in a century…"
Berserk amplified a Behemoth's strength manifold—a power even Father lacked.
"Take Lei Xiang. Bury the guard. Let the old hag rot," Father ordered, exhilarated.
I awoke days later, aching and weak, in my room. Night had fallen. Stumbling out, I collapsed.
My eldest brother, Lei Long, carried me back. "Take me to Grandma!" I pleaded.
Under cover of darkness, Lei Long brought me to her cottage. She lay where she'd fallen, drenched in dew.
"Grandma!" I shook her gently.
Her eyes fluttered open. "You came back… good boy…" She tried to touch my head but failed.
I carried her inside. "Rest, you'll be fine…"
"Silly child… promise me… be strong… survive…" She pressed a thin booklet into my hands—the Demon Clan's forbidden Demonic Art Code, stolen by her long ago. "Only royal Demon blood… can learn this… become a Fallen Angel… hide it from your father…"
I screamed as she died.
Grandma's burial passed in a haze. For seven days, I languished, force-fed by Father. Her final words became my mantra: "Be strong… only the strong survive."
My berserk potential made Father value me. He personally trained me in Heavenly Thunder Armor, a defensive martial art amplifying our natural resilience. Mastery created a protective aura.
By day, I honed this art. By night, I studied the Demonic Art Code—a fusion of magic and combat. Progress was glacial; after four years, I'd only reached its second tier. The dark energy chilled my soul, yet granted potent shadow magic—hypnosis, corrosion—purer and safer than common dark spells.
Now, as deputy Behemoth leader, I'm a figurehead. My brothers handle command; I train relentlessly.
One moonlit night, restless energy drove me outdoors. A punch cratered the earth, venting my fury.
As I turned back, danger prickled my senses. A massive fist hurtled toward me. I blocked, but the force flung me back. The attacker pressed—another bone-jarring strike.
I braced, channeling Father's lesson: "Overwhelm with raw power." Our fists collided again…