Revenge: A Path of Destruction
Chapter 133: Europe (2)

Chapter 133: Europe (2)

The Beast Side of Europe —

If the eastern side of Europe stood as a testament to defiance and civilization, then the western side was the living embodiment of raw, unchallenged power.

It was not merely ruled—it was owned.

At its heart reigned the Phoenix, the Firebird—a powerful, Legend-ranked entity spoken of in whispers across the world.

Unlike the Thunder Wolf of the Earth Domain, who observed more than he interfered, the Phoenix’s will was law. No fire sparked, no migration stirred, no battle ignited without the bird’s concept saturating the land. It was not just her domain—it was her body, her breath, her burning soul given shape.

She was flame made sentient, rebirth made eternal. Her death birthed her anew, her ashes a cycle that could never be broken. And every creature within her territory bent to that truth.

The western continent bore the mark of her presence.

Skies bled with ember-tinted clouds. The winds shimmered with heat, even during what used to be winter. The very air shimmered, heavy with the scent of scorched stone and molten earth. Forests, once lush, had evolved into biomes of ashwood and lava bark. Volcanic mountains dotted the horizon like sentries, their slow-breathing vents a constant reminder of the continent’s slumbering heart.

This was a land forged for fire. And those born without affinity to it—particularly water-aligned beasts—were either driven out, driven mad, or burned where they stood. The Phoenix’s dominion was not kind. It was order, shaped by combustion and survival.

As with the human territories, the beast domain was split by power—but the hierarchy was more primal.

The Outer Region, where the Phoenix’s influence was weakest, belonged to the low-ranking magical beasts—Fledglings, Ferals, and Wilds. They fought constantly for territory, dominance, or the right to live another day. Some formed packs or roamed in small, loosely allied tribes.

Others wandered alone, too weak or too savage to form bonds. But even here, the Phoenix’s authority echoed in the heat. There were no cold rivers, no gentle rains. Only sun, steam, and survival.

Deeper in was the Middle Territory, where the fire began to thicken, and so too did the power of those who ruled. This region was home to King- and Queen-ranked magical beasts—monsters whose names inspired fear across continents. Each one was surrounded by knights and warriors, beastly nobles in their own right. They did not merely exist; they governed.

Here, laws were enforced not through words, but through instinct and flame. Duels to the death were common. Challenges were answered swiftly. And above all else, loyalty to the Phoenix was absolute. These kings and queens did not rule by birthright—they ruled because she allowed them to.

But at the Core of the western continent, where the skies seemed to burn brighter and the ground itself pulsed with magma-threaded mana, was the Emperor/Empress rank beast and the only ruler.

The Phoenix.

No other beast, no matter how strong, dared nest near her domain.

No other creature could endure the weight of her presence, except the Emperor/Empress rank beast

Her home lay atop the tallest volcanic peak in the western region, a mountain perpetually wreathed in flame. Its summit was unreachable to any creature not blessed—or cursed—by her will. Even Emperor/Empress rank beast birds only circled their lower edges, singing in reverent tones that echoed like hymns through the boiling sky.

She never spoke. She didn’t need to.

Her concept—a divine force beyond magic or mana—reached across the beast side like a second atmosphere. It was woven into the wind. It seethed beneath the soil. It whispered in the ears of every creature born under her sky. One thought. One law.

Burn or bow.

Under her rule, the western half of Europe became a sanctuary for aerial predators and fire-aligned creatures.

Bird-like magical beasts dominated the region, soaring high above the plains and scorched peaks like gods of the air. Griffins, fire hawks, ember falcons, and thunder eagles all rose in prominence. They were not just common—they were supreme.

Ground-dwelling beasts still existed, but many of them bore wings or fire-based mutations, forced by evolution or annihilation to adapt. To be born wingless in the Phoenix’s territory was to be born at a disadvantage. The skies were not only a battlefield—they were a throne room.

And at its center perched the Phoenix herself, flame cascading off her wings in slow, majestic waves, her gaze older than any mountain, her silence louder than any roar. She did not need to patrol her lands. Her existence was the patrol. Her breath kept balance. Her death rewrote it.

The humans had their wall.

The Phoenix had her fire.

And it was that fire, not stone or steel, that kept invaders at bay.

No wall was needed. Because on the beast side of Europe, there was no escape.

Only judgment.

----

"That is all I know about Europe—home of the WIND Clan."

NOVA’s voice faded into silence, her tone calm, clinical... final.

Alex said nothing.

He sat still inside the cave, eyes closed, as if trying to absorb the weight of what he’d just heard. The breeze tugged lightly at his coat, but he didn’t move. The silence was heavy, oppressive, like the air before a coming storm.

Then, breaking the quiet came a smooth, feline drawl, rich with curiosity and caution.

"So, what are you going to do?"

Nyxara’s voice was soft, but not gentle. It carried the edge of pragmatism—one born from instinct and experience.

She shifted lazily atop his shoulder, her sleek fur warm against his neck as she stretched, her golden eyes narrowing as she continued.

"It sounds like that place is more secure than the Earth Domain. The legend-rank beast isn’t passive like the Thunder Wolf. She controls everything—every movement, every breath of the land. And to make things worse, the Wind Clan’s presence is just as structured as your own was. Same layers. Same inner, outer, and core segmentation. If you think you can just walk in—"

Her tail flicked once, sharply.

"—you’re wrong. Security will be tight. Smothering. So, what’s your plan?"

Still, Alex remained silent.

He didn’t need to open his eyes to know she was staring at him. Expecting something. Anything.

But instead of an answer, he simply exhaled.

A long, slow breath, the kind you take when you’ve looked at the map, and all paths lead through fire.

His chest rose and fell again, this time heavier. Slower.

Everything had changed.

This was no longer about infiltration. No longer about exploiting cracks in a fractured domain like the Earth Clan’s.

This was walking into the heart of structure, of discipline, and of fire.

He finally opened his eyes.

Not with certainty.

But with resolve.