The First Cultivator - Changing Existence - Chapter 623: Research and Leaving -

The protracted ’witch hunting’ had faded into silence with the end of the Seven Years’ War, and the mysteries of the East Coast had begun to conceal themselves, yet gunpowder was on a rapid rise. Mo Qishang, who should have been utterly confounded, stood at the crossroads of destiny in the name of Arthur. He stared in astonishment at the charging knights, the wizards atop the high towers, and the bizarre wilderness. He felt the sharpness of the longsword and the recoil of the firearm, both clear and unfamiliar. At last, he excitedly shook his robe and, with a smile on his face, said— “Do not believe what I say, for to believe is to exist!”

Monsters lurk in the night, but what if something else hunted them? An incident in his childhood left Velik an outcast with a racial subtype that thrives at night and unique class called [The Black Fang], which focuses on just one thing: killing monsters. He’s good at finding them, and he’s good at slaying them. For ten years, he’s been gaining levels and sharpening his skills on the thousands of monsters infesting the wild lands of the frontier. For ten years, he’s kept a lonely stretch of towns safe. Despite his efforts, this year has seen an explosion in the monster population, so much that he’s no longer capable of protecting everyone by himself. This draws the interest of another monster hunter, one that’s professionally licensed, but he seems more interested in investigating Velik than anything else. At least with him there, Velik is free to finally explore the mysteries of the deep wood, where he believes the source of all monsters resides. Every answer he finds leads to new questions, and not even Velik himself knows the truth of what happened on that fateful day. One thing’s for sure: not even the monsters are safe in the dark.

There is an ugly beast that violates women in prison.

A treacherous beast that is feared and called a “Butcher”.

That’s me.

I was once a human but now I can’t even remember my own name.

I can’t speak, and I don’t understand a word they say.

It is in this deep loneliness that I am pouring my essence into the women everyday.

I pour my burning rage into them.

Over and over again, until they conceive.

From morning till night. Until the women’s souls withered.

To show them that I’m an excellent stallion and an obedient domestic animal.

But my soul has not perished yet.

I will break free from this prison soon. And when I do, it will be your last.

Every human who betrayed me, every demon who altered me, I will trample down like an ant.

And it won’t stop until I’m satisfied.

The dawn of the beast is near.