Chapter 163: The Strange Frogmen and the Beastmaster's Path

Words : 1324 Updated : Sep 23rd, 2025

"Screech!" "Screech!" "Screech!" A chorus of shrill, grating cries echoed through the marsh as seven soil-brown insectoid creatures closed in around Lyle. Each one stood nearly a meter tall, their bodies armored in rough, bark-like carapaces streaked with dull crimson patterns. Their mouths gaped open, lined with mandibles reminiscent of a praying mantis, dripping with saliva and menace. "These things are nastier than that last bunch," Lyle muttered, glancing over the encirclement with a bored expression. Without hesitation, he raised a hand. "Magic Arrow." Thwip! Three gleaming bolts of magical force shot out, piercing the lead mantis-beast square in the chest. A splash of yellow-green ichor burst forth as the creature shrieked and collapsed. "Not bad. Tougher than your average lizardman, but still manageable." The remaining six erupted in rage. Their jaws widened unnaturally, and streams of corrosive slime spewed from their mouths. The acidic liquid hissed through the air, aimed squarely at Lyle. But his angels were already moving. The flame archangel swooped down in front of him, shielding his master with its gleaming silver armor. At the same time, the hound twisted nimbly, dragging Lyle aside to avoid the spray from behind. Ssszzz... The acid splashed onto the angel's armor, sending up a hiss of steam and smoke. "Burn them down," Lyle ordered coldly. With a gust of fire-laced wind, the archangel surged forward. One swing of its blazing sword cleaved through a mantis-beast, splitting it clean in two. The others lunged, but the hound's deft footwork kept Lyle well out of reach, while the angel executed each attacker with ruthless efficiency. Moments later, silence returned to the marsh. Seven corpses lay scattered across the damp earth. [EXP: 27,875 / 120,000] He'd earned nearly two thousand experience points just since entering the upper marshlands earlier that day and that was without actively grinding. "The monsters up here are definitely stronger than the ones in the lower wetlands. Which means the frogman tribes living here must be a cut above the lizardfolk too," he mused. Still astride the barghest, Lyle resumed his journey deeper into the swamp, one hand loosely gripping the beast's bony reins. His primary objective lay ahead: retrieving the lizardfolk's ancestral relic, which had apparently ended up in the hands of the enigmatic Twin Witches. He didn't know the witches' exact location yet, but he had a lead. Frogmen. Rather than waste time flying blind across unfamiliar terrain, he had chosen to track down one of their tribes and ask for directions. Flying would've been faster, sure, but it also made him a big, obvious target. Better to stay low and cautious. As he pressed onward, the dense underbrush thinned. Twisted trees and gnarled shrubs gave way to wide patches of open, bubbling marsh. Pools of stagnant water dotted the ground, releasing lazy plumes of gas as bubbles burst. Lyle squinted across the swamp. There, half-submerged in muck, lay a cluster of creatures with deep green skin and pale underbellies. Dozens of frogmen lounged in the mud, motionless except for the rise and fall of their breathing. They didn't even glance at Lyle as he approached, not even a twitch of recognition. Were they dead? He would've assumed so if not for the rhythmic heaving of their bellies. The air smelled faintly of mildew, but it wasn't too pungent. Still, the sight of all those frogmen just... lying there in a gooey heap made Lyle pause. "Was just wondering how to find them, and boom—there they are. Delivered straight to me." He recalled a brief conversation he'd had with Crusch Lulu before entering the deeper swamp. Even she knew little about the frogmen. They rarely left the marsh interior, preferring the damp, murky depths far from civilization. The lower wetlands were too dry for them. Lizardfolk lore labeled frogmen as wicked, unnatural creatures but seeing them like this, Lyle wasn't so sure. They didn't look evil. They looked lazy. "No structures either. Guess their village isn't nearby." Lyle's gaze swept the area, but there were no huts, tents, or any signs of civilization—just mud, grass, and more mud. He tugged the hound's reins. It padded cautiously toward the nearest frogman, paws barely making a sound. Suddenly, the creature stirred. Its massive eyes two deep brown globes the size of fists—snapped open, fixed directly on Lyle. There was no startle, no confusion. Just... cold detachment. A chilling stillness that made even the barghest hesitate. "Unfamiliar prey." The frogman's voice rasped through the air, dry and hollow. It didn't blink, didn't even shift its posture. Just stared. "Sorry to interrupt your mud nap. Mind if I ask for directions?" Lyle replied, his tone light but watchful. Something about the frogman felt off. It wasn't like other intelligent races he'd met. Even lizardfolk, as brutish as they were, still behaved like people. This frogman? He had the eyes of a beast in a man's skull. A moment later, the creature twitched—and leapt. Its legs coiled, bulging muscles tightened, and it launched forward with terrifying speed. "All Race Charm." Lyle's eyes flared with arcane light, and a wave of mental energy surged outward. The frogman froze mid-pounce. Its gaze dulled. The killer instinct in its eyes faded, replaced by an empty stare. "Take me to the Twin Witches," Lyle said calmly. The frogman obeyed without a word. It trudged out of the water and began to lead him through the swamp. Lyle chuckled under his breath. "Doesn't matter what you are. If you've got a brain, you're getting charmed." Splash! Behind him, dozens of frogmen rose from the mud. Fist-sized eyes stared daggers into Lyle's back. They were no longer pretending to be indifferent. Their hatred was open, raw, and unsettling. "Yikes. That's a lot of angry eyes." He kept a straight face, but the way his eyebrow ticked said everything. Sure, he was used to monstrous faces by now—after slaying hundreds of goblins, you build up a tolerance. Still, even in this world, most commoners would scream if a frogman popped out of their bathtub. "Kill them all." His voice was flat, almost bored. The floating archangel flared its wings and dove into the fray. "WAAAH!" One frogman shrieked in its final moments. The sound echoed across the marsh. Then the swamp responded. Bubbles churned. The ground began to shake. And from beneath the sludge, something else emerged. Thick, purple, worm-like creatures exploded upward, slithering through the mud with unnerving speed. [New Skill Detected: Beast Rage] [Requirement: Base Class - Beastmaster] [Current Class Not Compatible] [Genius Trait Triggered - Requirement Overridden. Spend 1 Skill Point to Learn?] Lyle glanced at the pop-up on his panel, then dismissed it. "So this explains the monster-taming... a beastmaster class." He had the barghest retreat as he unrolled a summoning scroll. A second flame archangel descended in a blaze of golden light. The first returned from the frogman massacre, and together, the two angels descended on the writhing worms. [EXP +21] [EXP +127] [EXP +265] [EXP +156] [EXP: 29,199 / 120,000] The purple worms were numerous, but they weren't strong. The toughest barely reached level ten. Still, Lyle's eyes weren't on them. They were on the horizon. Thud. Thud. The earth trembled. A hulking creature—five meters tall, built like a war elephant—charged out of the deeper swamp. It had the body of a serpent, scaled and coiled, but ran on massive legs like a reptilian centaur. Eight heads snapped and hissed, each bearing fangs longer than Lyle's arm. Atop the central head stood a frogman clad in tribal armor, holding a long, barbed spear. Behind it, two more hydra-like monsters followed, each with a frogman warrior perched atop. "So these swamp bums weren't just lazy, they were the perimeter scouts."

Chapter 163: The Strange Frogmen and the Beastmaster's Path

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