The transformation left Tempest City completely unrecognizable.

The old, suffocating fortress of ash and heavy iron chains was gone, replaced by a breathtaking sanctuary of light, glass, and water.

Where a dead, cracked desert of salt flats once stretched to the south, there was now a massive, crystal-clean inland sea.

The water was so pure and transparent that you could look straight down to the bottom, where smooth white-gold sands shimmered under the sun.

Rising up the mountain terraces were clean, geometric buildings and rectangular barracks designed by Roy..

Instead of dark, windowless stone huts, these modern structures had wide, open floors and massive panels of clear glass.

The white-gold frames of the buildings gleamed in the sunlight, making the entire city look like a futuristic, clean citadel carved right out of a mountain of Jade.

Unlike fragile humans, beastmen rarely get tired, born with intense stamina, they were able to complete heavy constructions within weeks.

Nature aggressively reclaimed the once-dead volcanic wasteland.

Thick, pale-green moss carpeted the modern concrete walkways, making every path soft to walk on.

Vines with glowing, gold-veined leaves wrapped lovingly around the titanium-alloy support pillars, acting like living armor for the skyscrapers.

Down in the lower rings where the slave pens used to be, pure mineral springs bubbled up from the ground, creating lush, shaded groves where children could run freely.

Tempest City was no longer just a stronghold; it was mutating into a living ecosystem tuned entirely to the heartbeat of the God of Beasts.

The societal shift was absolute.

The market guilds that had once traded in flesh were dismantled, their assets seized to fund the city’s new religious infrastructure.

The common beastmen—once broken and divided by tribal bloodfeuds—found a terrifying equity under the gaze of the primordial.

To look upon the golden, radiant wings of their Tiger Lord or the armored, apex form of the High Priest was to realize that the era of submissive hiding was over.

The city didn’t just adapt to the religion; it became the religion.

With the core infrastructure stabilized, Roy established a rigid, ironclad operational hierarchy to manage the city’s dual identity as a military fortress and a holy capital:

Lord Varanus: Primordial God of Beastmen.

Jarden Rome: Apostle of the God of Beasts.

These two were treated with reverence.

Jarden was recognized as an ordained saint of Lord Varanus, this was why the first cathedral of the Church of Varanus was named after him.

Below the hierarchy was the Religious Authority and the Administrative Authority:

The Church of Varanus and Tempest City Administration.

Elder Croak: High Priest of the Church.

Lord Manuses: Mayor of Tempest City.

And below these two were:

Alpha Eurenia: Crusade Captain of the Holy Order.

Commander Trojan: Minister of the City and the Army’s Supreme Commander.

Alisa was given a separate role.

Roy needed to establish a secret intelligence organization which would act as his intelligence network across the Hudeii Desert.

Alisa was perfect to be the Director of this secret intelligence agency.

An organization consisting of skilled Rabbit-kin, Fox-men, Hyena-men, Tiger-men and even Wolf-men all for the purpose of gathering information, covert operations and missions involving assassinations.

Mandraxx.

That was the name given to this secret organization by Roy himself.

While Alpha Brenda, who controls a faction of powerful Hyena-men, was selected to become the Commander of the Inquisition Division of the Church.

Roy was the one who made that decision.

In other to promote unity, all divisions were occupied beastmen regardless of their race or species.

Although his name is a secret, only known to a few elite officials of both the Church and the Administration, he’s the true ruler of Tempest City.

Since Alpha Brenda, the commander of the renegade faction of Hyena-men, had supported them during the chaos.

Roy was going to make use of her extensive spy network and hidden supply cells to kickstart the Mandraxx operation.

He needed her, and due to her reluctance to join hands with them.

Roy had to arrange a meeting with Alpha Brenda and the vassals of Lord Varanus.

While the arrangements were made, Alpha Eurenia was busy; she had dispatched several highly trained Wolf-kin scout units deep into the jagged, uncharted expanses east and south of the Hudeii Desert.

Their mission was clear: track down the scattered, hiding remnants of the independent tribes who had fled the Troll King’s initial purges, bringing them word that a sovereign home—and their true Father—awaited them in the south.

***

The heavy obsidian doors of the Mayor’s office closed with a muted, pressurized thud, sealing out the distant clanging of the Basilica’s ongoing construction.

Inside, the midday sun streamed through the panoramic window, catching the flawless, white-gold holy luminescence humming along the feathers of Lord Manuses’s massive, furled wings.

For the first time since the sunrise prayer, the entire upper echelon of the Feral Domain was gathered in one room.

High Priest Croak stood perfectly still near the dark mahogany desk, his multi-faceted crimson compound lenses glowing with a dark, calculated focus that made the ambient gravity in the room feel subtly heavy.

To his left stood Alpha Eurenia, her slender frame vibrating with a suppressed, restless martial energy, her hand resting naturally on her side.

"She’s outside," Eurenia spoke, her voice breaking the silence. "Her cells verified the perimeter three times before she agreed to ascend the palace steps."

"Let her in," Manuses rumbled, his voice carrying the deep, youth-infused resonance of his middle-stage Martial Lord core. "The era of hiding in the gutters is dead. She needs to see that the throne has changed."

The office doors parted once more.

Alpha Brenda stepped into the light of the sanctum, flanked by two heavily scarred Hyena-men who looked around the opulent office with deep, instinctual suspicion.

Brenda herself was a vision of hardened, cynical survival; her leather armor was worn, her amber eyes cautious, and a jagged scar ran down the side of her jaw.

She didn’t bow.

She simply stopped at the center of the obsidian floor, her gaze tracking the sheer power radiating from Manuses and Croak.

"I spent five years trying to figure out how to put a dagger through your throat, Manuses," Brenda said smoothly, her voice a low, gravelly purr. "Now I walk up the main terrace ramps and find your Tiger guards handing out grain to my scouts and chanting the name of a primordial. It smells like a well-crafted trap."

"If it were a trap, Alpha Brenda, you wouldn’t have survived the threshold of the outer rings,"

High Priest Croak murmured, his three massive obsidian beetle claws clicking together with a metallic ring. "The blood that stained the mid-rings this morning didn’t belong to your kin. It belonged to the Orcs who hunted them."

Before Brenda could reply, the space directly before the dark mahogany desk subtly distorted.

A localized swirl of golden-crimson mana particles ignited from the floorboards, and Roy manifested out of thin air, his hands casually resting in the pockets of his tailored black coat.

The two Hyena sentries behind Brenda instantly reached for their rusted scimitars, but Brenda shot an arm out, freezing them in place.

Her instincts as a veteran cultivator screamed in absolute terror; the wolf man standing before her carried no physical scent, yet her soul felt like it was staring into the open jaw of an apex celestial predator.

"Alpha Brenda," Roy spoke smoothly, a lofty, predatory smile playing on his lips. "Your cells handled the warehouse infrastructure beautifully during the chaos. You have an exceptional eye for logistics."

Brenda swallowed hard, her slit pupils tracking the golden-crimson mana drifting around Roy’s shoulders. "You’re the one Alisa and Eurenia serve. The Apostle of the Beast God."

"I am the blade that cuts the strings," Roy answered, taking a slow, unhurried step forward. "The Tiger Lord has given his forces. The High Priest has given his service. The Crusade has given its steel. But a holy city cannot stand on armies alone, Brenda."

Roy stretched his arm, "I need your shadow network to become the eyes and ears of the Church. I need you to ensure that when the Troll King marches north, there are no fractures left inside these walls."

Brenda looked from Roy to the majestic, solar-gold wings of Manuses, then to the terrifying, unyielding insectar plate armor of Elder Croak—a former slave who now wielded the undisputed power of a Martial Lord.

The sheer gravity of what Roy had accomplished in less than forty-eight hours shattered her remaining skepticism.

The old paradigm of desperate, back-alley survival was gone.

A genuine divine superpower had been born in the wastes.

Slowly, deliberately, Brenda dropped to one knee, pressing her fist against the obsidian floorboards.

"The independent cells have no desire to be ritual fuel for the west" Brenda declared, her head bowing low. "If Lord Varanus offers my people a city where they can breathe without chains, then my blades belong to the shadow of the Feral Domain. Tell us where to strike, Apostle Jarden."

Roy’s amber eyes flashed with a dangerous, satisfied light as the system interface within his mind began to process the absolute unification of the city’s internal factions.

"Excellent," Roy grinned, turning toward the panoramic window that overlooked the vast, shifting sands of the Hudeii Desert. "The board is officially clear. Now... let’s see how long it takes for the Troll King to realize his knife has been shattered."

"For now, we must venture across the Hudeii Desert and harvest mana cores of F-class abominations."

"We must grow our strength, equip our soldiers as we prepare for war." Roy’s eyes flickered, "Send a message to the three cities."

"Tell them what has happened to the City of Tempest!"

"And how it came under the warmth embrace of Lord Varanus"