Surviving The Beast World With My 'Sassy' System-Chapter 44: One-Sided Slaughter

Vors moved first, his body already angling forward as he melted into the terrain. He was gone only briefly, moving fast and silent across the uneven ground, before returning just as smoothly. When he stopped in front of them, his expression was focused and grim.

"It seems some Beastmen are fighting with a few beasts ahead," he reported in a low voice.

At that, several of them instinctively scanned their surroundings, ears twitching as they tried to pinpoint the source of the noise. Lavayla followed their gaze, her eyes sweeping across the rocky expanse, the sparse vegetation, and the shallow rises in the land, but she saw nothing—no movement, no figures, no sign of battle nearby.

Ressha frowned, stepping forward slightly as confusion crossed her features. "Where?" she asked, her voice edged with tension. "There’s nobody here, and the sound seems to be farther forward."

Vors nodded once, confirming her suspicion. "It is. The terrain ahead dips sharply. The sound is traveling upward from a lower ridge."

Dark narrowed his eyes, turning his head as if listening beyond what sight alone could provide. "That area is just before the salt route," he said quietly. "If there’s a fight happening there, it’s not a small one."

Lavayla’s grip tightened around the baby without her realizing it, her heart thudding as the screech rang out again, sharper this time, closer than before.

"But we can’t stay in the open," Dark spoke, his voice low. "If there are beasts ahead, they’ll have scouts on the ridges. Move to the high ground. We need to see what we’re walking into."

The group didn’t hesitate. If a battle was happening on the main route, they couldn’t just walk into it blindly. Instead of staying on the flat, exposed land, Vors led them toward a rising slope of jagged grey rock. Lavayla’s legs screamed in protest as she scrambled upward, her breath hitching as she tried to keep the baby steady against her chest.

As they climbed, the sounds became clearer. It wasn’t just one roar; it was a cacophony of screeching, the clatter of stone, and the unmistakable, bone-chilling war cries of Beastmen.

Finally, they reached a precarious rocky outcrop that jutted out over the forest floor. Vors signaled for them to stay low, crawling on his belly toward the very edge. Lavayla paused, then used the fur wrap to tie the baby at her front. She followed, her heart hammering against her ribs so loudly that she thought it might wake the baby.

Lavayla reached the edge and looked down, the baby’s weight a warm pressure against her chest where she had tied him securely. She stayed low on her hands and knees, peering over the jagged lip of the ridge.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Below them, the earth split open into a sheer-sided river canyon. The walls were steep and unforgiving, covered in patches of dry moss and treacherous loose shale. Down on the narrow, rocky floor, a group of about eight warriors and four tigers was pinned. They were massive men, and many had already partially shifted—their skin covered in orange-and-black fur, their fingers ending in long, curved claws.

"The Ember-Stripe Tribe," Ressha whispered, her voice tight with a mixture of awe and fear. "It’s a salt team."

Lavayla’s attention shifted at the mention of another tribe, She glanced sideways at Ressha, keeping her voice low. "Ember-Stripe Tribe? They are Tiger Beastmen?"

Ressha nodded, her jaw tight as her eyes tracked the movement below. The beasts circling the canyon floor were not low-level creatures; their movements were coordinated, aggressive, and too deliberate. "Yes. They are only a few days away from our tribe. Very powerful, but also hot-headed. They fight hard and fast, and they don’t like backing down."

Lavayla blinked, genuine surprise flashing across her face. "They’re that close to your tribe? I thought most tribes would be far away from each other."

"They are," Ressha replied quietly, nodding once. "For most. But distance is different for Beastmen gifted in speed. What takes others many days can be crossed much faster by us. A single day’s distance can be covered if Nima runs at her highest speed."

Lavayla’s mind immediately jumped back to how fast Nima was while carrying her on her back. She hesitated only briefly before murmuring inwardly, ’Nessa, how fast is Nima compared to a car?’

Nessa responded instantly, her tone bright, ’Comparing Nima to a sports car. At her top speed, she is roughly half as fast as a high-performance sports car capable of traveling at 304 miles per hour. That translates to approximately one and a half football fields in a single second, meaning Nima can cross about half a field every second.’

Lavayla inhaled slowly, ’That is... fucking fast.’

’Yes, Host~!’ Nessa chimed. ’Based on that speed and the average travel estimates between territories, the Ember-Stripe Clan is approximately 2,454.0 miles away from the Shadowclaw Tribe.’

Lavayla’s eyes widened despite herself, ’That is... very fucking far.’

The realization reframed everything she had assumed about distance and territory in this world. What humans considered vast without modern transportation was, to Beastmen, merely a matter of endurance and speed.

A piercing shriek pulled her attention back to the fight below to see one of the large Tigers tearing off the head of a flying creature completely and Lavayla shuddered.

She watched as the team was surrounded by beasts that looked like nightmare versions of boars—creatures the size of small oxen with massive, iron-colored tusks that seemed to grow directly out of their skulls. These tusked monsters were slamming their bodies into the warriors, trying to gore them against the stone walls.

But it was the man in the center who drew Lavayla’s gaze.

He had long braided red hair, his upper body bare and he was taller than the others, his muscles corded and stained with blood. He hadn’t shifted; he was fighting in his human form, his hands moving with precision as he grabbed the tusks of a charging beast and twisted its head with raw, terrifying strength. He was shouting commands, but the beasts were smart. They were crowding him, three or four at a time, never giving him the breathing room he needed to shift into his beast form.

"They’re being hunted," Miren muttered, his eyes narrowing as he watched from beside Lavayla. .

Below, Mirek gritted his teeth as he grabbed another one of the Iron-Tusk Ravagers and slammed its head into the rock with a thunderous crack, the impact reverberating through the canyon as shards of stone exploded outward and the beast let out a strangled, furious squeal. It staggered, tusks scraping uselessly against the ground, but before he could finish it off, another massive body barreled into his side, the force of the collision sending him skidding several feet across the canyon floor. He rolled once, came up on one knee, blood streaking down his ribs where a tusk had grazed him. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

"Hold the left flank!" he roared at the others. "Don’t let them separate you—move together!"

Two of the Ember-Stripe warriors answered immediately, leaping in sync as one shifted fully, tiger forms crashing into the nearest Ravager with coordination. Claws tore into thick hide, teeth sank deep, and the beast screamed as it was dragged down, but the victory was fleeting. More of the creatures surged forward, eyes glowing in a feral way, their heavy hooves cracking stone as they closed the circle tighter.

Mirek’s chest heaved as he straightened, muscles trembling from exertion as he wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. He could feel it now—the pressure building beneath his skin, his beast straining to break free—but the moment he shifted, he would lose the fine control he needed to protect his team in such tight quarters. The Ravagers knew it too, crowding him deliberately, their movements calculated, herding him like prey.

Mirek braced himself once more, feet digging into the stone as he caught the oncoming tusks with both hands, veins standing out along his arms as he pushed his claws out, dug them into the beast’s throat, and tore it off.

Like that, he killed almost all the beasts surrounding him by tearing them apart—either by the throat, the sides, or straight through the center mass—and for the Shadow-Stalkers, he went for their wings, ripping them free before crushing their skulls against stone. There was no hesitation in his movements, no mercy in his strikes. Each kill was swift and final.

When the last of the beasts hemming him collapsed into a heap of blood and broken limbs, he pivoted without pause and charged back toward his team.

"Funnel them!" he commanded, his voice cutting through the roars and shrieks echoing in the canyon. "Zuran, clear the walls! Khor, don’t break the formation! We push through the center—now!"

They moved the instant he spoke. Zuran, already fully shifted, let out a thunderous roar that shook loose gravel from the canyon walls before launching upward, his massive tiger form scaling the rock face. He slammed into the Shadow-Stalkers clinging there, claws flashing as he tore them free and sent their bodies plummeting to the ground below, while the other Tigers engaged the remaining flying Shadow-Stalkers.

Khor and the rest held the line, planting their feet and driving their shoulders into the oncoming Ravagers, keeping the formation tight as the others surged forward exactly as ordered.

From above, Lavayla stared, frozen in awe as the battle below transformed. What had been chaos only moments ago became a one-sided slaughter. Beasts fell one after another—crushed, disemboweled, or torn apart mid-charge—their massive bodies hitting the ground with bone-rattling force. The Ember-Stripe warriors moved like a single organism, every strike timed, every opening exploited, as blood soaked the canyon floor.

Her heart pounded as she watched the red-haired man at the center of it all, directing, striking, advancing without falter, his presence anchoring the entire fight.

Clutching the baby closer, Lavayla swallowed hard, unable to tear her eyes away.