The surroundings had finally fallen into a hush. Only the whispering wind stirred the air as Finn regarded the Sixth Grade Winged Golden Lion King. There was no trace of fear or anxiety in the young man's golden eyes. He knew there was no reason to be afraid—this mighty beast was gravely wounded, drained of both its physical strength and the energy that made it so formidable.
The lion lay sprawled across the scorched ground, unable even to lift its massive body. Finn could see the creature's labored breathing—each ragged inhale proof of how far it had been pushed in its battle against the Six-Armed Ape King.
When the lion heard the boy's words—when it saw what he was pointing at—something clenched painfully in its chest. Its eyes flared, and it let out a hoarse, furious growl.
Inside that cave were the two most precious things in the Winged Golden Lion's life: the Dragon-Breath Grass…and its two newborn cubs.
If this human wasn't interested in the Dragon-Breath Grass, then that could only mean—
"Human," the lion snarled, voice trembling with wrath. "You saved me from that filthy ape's claws. Take all the Rank 7 medicinal herbs you want from my cave—but I will never allow you to lay a hand on my Dragon-Breath Grass…or my children!"
Hatred burned behind the beast's eyes. For hundreds of years, it had despised humans. Once, long ago, it had been nothing but a fledgling Fourth Grade beast—weak and terrified—hunted by Adventurers just like this young man. It had nearly died, and countless Third Grade and Fourth Grade beasts had perished around it, their corpses left behind as trophies. Since that day, it had killed every human who dared step into its territory without hesitation or mercy.
If it still had the strength, it would have torn this young human apart. But no matter how it struggled, its body refused to move.
Finn tilted his head, regarding the furious lion with calm detachment. He raised his sword, letting it gleam in the fractured light.
"Do you really think you have a choice, in your condition?" he said softly. "Even if you are a Sixth Grade vicious beast, even if your flesh is as hard as steel…I could still slice you apart with this blade."
His golden eyes narrowed slightly.
"And if I wished it," he went on, voice still measured, "I could walk into your cave right now and take whatever I pleased."
He lowered himself to sit beside the beast, his hand brushing idly over the lion's blood-matted fur. A faint, almost wistful smile curved his lips.
"You…!" the lion growled, its voice thick with hatred.
It longed to tear him limb from limb—to grind his bones into powder. But the only weapons it had left were the fury in its heart and the killing intent blazing from its eyes.
Finn ignored the glare. Instead, he smiled serenely, as if he were indulging a child's tantrum.
"Why be so stingy?" he asked, voice mild. "You have two children. I only wish to claim one. And besides…" His gaze sharpened with an unsettling glint. "You can sire another in time, can't you? You could sacrifice ten percent of your blood essence and create a new cub when you recover."
At those words, the lion's eyes went wide with raw outrage.
Yes. Among certain beasts, the ability to reproduce alone was possible—by sacrificing their own blood essence. And the Winged Golden Lion was one of them. But how could this child speak so casually of sacrificing the source of one's life?
It was precisely because the lion had given up its blood essence to create its offspring that it had been weakened before the Ape King attacked. Had it not done so, crushing the ape would have been trivial.
The memory of that humiliation only deepened its murderous resentment.
"Easy for you to say!" it roared, the sound ragged. "What do you know of our kind?!"
Finn only smiled again. He didn't bother to answer.
Instead, he asked, "How many Sixth Grade Vicious Beasts exist in this world?"
The lion faltered, startled by the unexpected question. But in the end, it answered in a guttural rasp.
"Including that ape…there are ten of us. And three more—Seventh Grade—hiding in the shadows."
Finn's eyes widened in spite of himself.
'Ten Sixth Grade…Sky Rank beasts…and three Seventh Grade…Legend Rank?'
He had only ever read about Legend Rank in the oldest books—beings whose power could crush an entire third-rate kingdom in a single day.
He exhaled slowly, willing the awe to settle. Even a so-called "weak" third-rate kingdom commanded legions of Sky Rank Adventurers.
Once he'd calmed his thoughts, he fixed his gaze on the lion again.
"Besides the Six-Armed Ape King," he asked quietly, "are there any other Sixth Grade beasts near your territory?"
A dark look crossed the lion's bloodshot eyes.
"…The ape wasn't the only one," it rasped at last. "There is also that accursed scorpion. It has always lusted after my treasures."
'Scorpion…'
Finn watched as the realization dawned across the lion's battered face.
It was true—only three among the Beast Kings knew the Dragon-Breath Grass was here. Now that the scorpion would sense the lion's weakness…it would surely come to seize everything—including the cubs.
Yet in this state, the lion could do nothing to stop it.
"Hm." Finn looked down at the wounded creature. "Judging by your injuries…it will take you three years to fully recover. And before that happens, the scorpion will learn of your condition. When it does, you'll lose more than your Dragon-Breath Grass." His voice lowered. "You'll lose your children."
"Don't try to deceive me!" the lion spat, voice cracking. "I know what you're implying. But why are you telling me this?"
Finn rose to his feet and smiled faintly.
"I can help you," he said simply. "You will keep your Dragon-Breath Grass. You will protect one of your cubs. In return…you will give me the other."
"Help me?" the lion sneered, though its voice trembled. "You are just another greedy human—weak and insignificant. What help could you possibly offer?"
"You only have two choices," Finn replied, calm as still water. "You can die here, with one cub beside you—while I take the other by force. Or you can live. You can heal, grow stronger, and keep the grass and one of your children—while offering me the other willingly."
He let the words settle like a quiet sentence.
The lion glared at him, pupils narrowing to slits. However you looked at it, this was no negotiation—it was extortion under the guise of mercy.
But it had no choice.
Slowly, the beast's ragged breaths steadied. It lowered its gaze, and when it finally spoke, its voice was hoarse.
"You saved my life. That I cannot deny," it rumbled. "If I agree…you will swear to me—swear—that you will care for my child."
Finn's golden eyes met the beast's without wavering.
"I swear it," he said solemnly.
A heavy silence fell. The lion's huge chest rose and fell in a long sigh—like a man resigning himself to a burden he could never set down.
"…Then I hope you honor your word."
Finn inclined his head. In that stillness, he reached into his interspatial ring and drew forth three items.
The lion's weary eyes narrowed, watching him in wary curiosity.
In Finn's hands were a ring, a dark crimson root, and a small glass vial.
He lifted the blood-red root first.
"This is Thousand-Year Blood Ginseng," he said quietly. "It can restore your lost blood essence in a fraction of the time it would take naturally. Its value is easily twice that of your Dragon-Breath Grass."
He raised the vial next.
"This is a Rank 7 recovery pill. Adventurers use it to restore their strength after grueling battles. Take it, and your energy will return quickly."
For an instant, longing flickered in the lion's eyes. But the moment passed. It knew too well what these treasures would cost it.
Even so…it could not afford to refuse.
"I trust you will keep your promise," the lion said, voice low.
Finn unsealed the vial and carefully placed the glossy pill between the beast's fangs. The moment it touched its tongue, it dissolved and spread warmth through its ruined body.
Slowly—painfully—the lion began to move again. Its limbs trembled. At last, it pushed itself upright.
As it rose, it released the full force of its sixth-grade aura.
Finn staggered under the invisible weight—a crushing pressure that made it feel as if the sky itself had fallen onto his shoulders. Sweat beaded on his brow. Every breath scraped in and out of his lungs like broken glass.
He held the lion's gaze without flinching.
After a moment, the oppressive force receded. The lion turned away and stalked to the ape's corpse, where it extracted a glittering crystal.
Without looking back, it spoke in a quiet growl.
"I am not like you humans. When I give my word, I mean it."
Finn sank to his knees, panting as the weight lifted. When he finally caught his breath, he watched the lion's retreating back with an unreadable expression.
He rose again, slipping the ape's remains into his interspatial ring, and followed the beast into the cave.
Inside, a soft radiance greeted them. The walls were lined with crystals of every hue, shimmering like fallen stars.
They walked in silence until they reached the heart of the cavern.
Clusters of precious herbs grew in thick patches across the earth. Most were Rank 5—but at the center, gleaming with a crystalline luster, was a single stalk that looked as if it had sprouted from pure starlight.
The Dragon-Breath Grass.
Finn felt his breath catch. He had never seen anything like it.
But it was not the Grass he had come for. He stepped past it, standing at the edge of an enormous nest.
There—curled in golden slumber—were two tiny lion cubs, no larger than his thigh. Even in sleep, their delicate wings twitched against their backs.
Finn's expression softened. A faint smile touched his lips.
The old lion bared its fangs and hissed, warning him not to overstep.
He lifted the Thousand-Year Blood Ginseng and offered it.
The beast hesitated. In the end, it lowered its head and took it, silent in its sorrow.
Finn held out the silver ring in his other hand.
[Medicine Garden Ring]
The lion blinked, puzzled.
"…What is that ring?"
Finn didn't answer immediately. He stepped closer to the cubs, gaze gentle.
"This will be your child's new home," he said quietly. "You may enter and see it for yourself."
He activated the ring. Silver light blossomed—and in an instant, the lion was drawn inside.
It made no attempt to resist.
A few moments later, the ring glowed again—and released the lion back onto the stone floor.
It stared at Finn in mute astonishment. For the first time, something like respect shone in its eyes.
Inside, it had glimpsed a lush miniature world—a hidden garden overflowing with soulforce and medicinal plants.
Finn bent to lift one of the sleeping cubs. Light enveloped it—and then it was gone, safely sealed within the ring's secret domain.
The lion did not protest. It only watched, its gaze heavy with grief.
"…Do not worry," Finn murmured. "Nothing will happen to your child while it is with me."
The old beast didn't answer. It merely lay down beside its remaining cub, eyes closed.
Finn studied it for a long moment. Then a thought sparked in his mind—bold, impossible, and yet…
His gaze turned serious.
"…Why don't you come with me?" he asked softly. "You can stay by your child's side…and leave this world behind."