Chapter 73
Naturally, as cultural exchange began, everything had to go through Ravie, the representative of the werebeasts. It was inevitable that humans would begin to form new factions around her. Those who benefited from this exchange sided with Ravie and Ril watched with pride as the support around her solidified.
Only then did some of the unruly predators who had once supported the progressive faction realize something was wrong. Compared to before, their influence within werebeast society was shrinking.
It was the weaker members of the tribe—not the powerful predators—who were benefiting most from the influx of human culture and technology. This only heightened the predators’ growing sense of unease.
What Ril had failed to predict was the petty instinct of the predators.
He had assumed that, no matter how much they disliked Ravie or looked down on smaller species, they would still prioritize the bond of kinship within their own kind over any ties to humans just as humans tended to be xenophobic toward other species.
“Are you really going to open this place to tourism? The king said it was strictly off-limits.”
“Of course, we’re not just throwing it open to everyone. We can’t hand over such untouched beauty to those who don’t even understand its worth. We’ll allow only a select few—humans who appreciate beauty—to visit, just once.”
But the werebeasts were, in truth, more honest and far more blatant in their desires than humans. For some predators, the survival of the species as a whole meant little when weighed against their own personal gain.
A few of these predators lured high-ranking nobles to Mount Heilig, the sanctuary of the spirits. This sacred site had been sealed off by Ravie when the exchange with humans began, reserved solely for the spirits. It was a place no one was supposed to enter.
That, of course, made it perfect bait for the vanity of nobles. Eager to prove their special status, they flocked to the mountain, desperate to possess some part of its beauty as a souvenir. In mere moments, the sacred mountain was defiled.
The spirits, feeling betrayed, believed Ravie had broken her promise to them. Already jealous of the bond forming between werebeasts and humans, this incident became the final spark. In fury, the spirits abandoned the archipelago.
All of this happened in just two days—the length of Ravie’s estrus.
“Please wait. Let me try to reason with them again. One of them is still at the sanctuary.”
“Even if one remains, it doesn’t change the fact that the others have gone. He can’t protect the entire island alone. To defend this place, we must show those humans who trespassed the true power we possess.”
The only spirit left was the one who had always stayed by Ravie’s side. Ravie pleaded with him, saying she would try to convince the others to return—but the predators refused to listen. With her powers weakened by the spirits’ absence, they seized the opportunity.
As planned from the start, the predators now attacked the very humans they had lured to the mountain—under the guise of revenge. But instead of targeting the nobles, they struck ordinary, defenseless villages, unleashing their pent-up brutality. Their violence, once restrained by the spirits’ presence, now exploded without mercy.
They slaughtered indiscriminately, obeying only their primal instinct: kill the weak.
The humans, attacked without cause, believed the werebeasts had betrayed them. Devastated, with their loved ones lost, they swore vengeance. They appealed to the kingdom for help—and the king responded by marching an army to the blood-soaked island.
“This can’t happen. If we fight now, we’ll all die.”
Perhaps a few of the predators might survive. But the majority of weaker werebeasts—they didn’t stand a chance against human weaponry. Ravie knew she had to stop the war at any cost. She begged Ril to intercept the human king and reason with him.
Having shared those two fateful nights with Ravie during her estrus, Ril felt a heavy responsibility for the fallout—and agreed to go.
Ravie, meanwhile, ascended Mount Heilig alone. She went to find the last spirit, the one who had stayed behind. He was the strongest of them all, but she didn’t come hoping he would annihilate the humans. She came because she didn’t want anyone human or werebeast to die.
“Please. Hide the island. Make it invisible, so they can’t find it.”
Ravie begged through tears, but the spirit said nothing. He stared at her tear-streaked face for a long time. Over and over, the image of her from that night forced itself over her current self like a ghostly overlay.
<Ahh… ngh… ah… AAH!>
The voice from the depths of a darkness he couldn’t cross—her moans, desperate and lost to passion—invaded his mind unbidden. He had tried not to hear them. But they came, unstoppable, crashing into his ears and breaking him.
He had stood frozen in place, watching the two tangled lovers in the cave, flesh pressed to flesh, lips seeking each other with aching tenderness. Ravie’s face, lost in rapture as Ril thrust into her again and again, was something the spirit could never have.
Why can’t I touch her?
Why can’t I hold her?
He had been there beside her for so long—watched over her all this time. And yet…
He hadn’t left the island like the others—because he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave her.
But he couldn’t control the fire consuming him either. Like the sacred mountain now defiled by human hands, he knew his own divinity had begun to rot from within. He no longer knew how to stop it.
He knew everything that had happened. He could have told her the truth. He could have reassured her that none of it was her fault.
But he didn’t.
The deceitful predators, the vengeful humans marching to war…
He looked upon them all with nothing but disgust.
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