Hexin looked at the furry creature crouched on the ground, reminding himself not to break character.

The prototype for Dique was based on Blue Star’s national treasure—the giant panda. Pandas, after all, were once renowned mythical mounts in Blue Star’s ancient legends, previously known as iron-eaters. How majestic. That it became one of the three primeval beasts in god of gods was, honestly, rather fitting.

But the scene unfolding in front of him felt… familiar.

Hexin thought for a moment. Wasn’t this exactly how it played out during the “war god versus the three primeval beasts, a battle fated by destiny” scene?

The war god had pointed his silver spear at Dique. “Heaven and Sea have already fallen. You’re next.”

Dique had stood tall and proud, arms akimbo, and roared in a muffled voice: “Hmph, anyone can talk big. Tide Si and Mondo are just two glass cannons. We of the Earth lineage are known for unmatched defense. As long as I’m standing on solid ground and have an endless supply of snacks to recharge, I dare anyone to so much as scratch me!” It paused, its beady eyes shifting over, “But just in case… how strong are you?”

The war god narrowed his eyes, turned his spear, and casually waved it behind him—instantly leveling a mountain. Then he turned the tip back, smirking as it pointed squarely at Dique’s forehead. “Me? I’m alright. Just average.”

Dique: “…”

It reached up and touched its now wind-blasted fuzzy head, which had been mussed before it could react to the strike’s sheer speed and power. Then—knees bent, full-body prostrate—the whole surrender sequence flowed smooth as silk.

“Actually, I suddenly feel that the three primeval beasts should stand together in all things. Since my brothers from Heaven and Sea have already pledged loyalty, I certainly can’t let them down. From today on, Dique will be your most loyal follower!”

War god: “…Didn’t think you were so sentimental.”

Dique, deadpan: “Naturally. We of the Earth lineage are many things, but we’re also delicate. We bruise easily.”

…That wasn’t what you said earlier.

Yes. Of the three primeval beasts, Dique was undoubtedly the most low-maintenance and peaceable. The reliable panda.

Ten thousand years later, staring at the exact same scene playing out before his eyes, Hexin couldn’t help but blurt, “Why are you always so skilled at surrendering?!”

Where was a beast king’s pride?

Dique: We Earth-types may break before we bend—but if you’re stronger than us? Well, never mind then. You call me boss, I’ll call you god.

In the distance, Tide Si—already collapsed—appeared to have suffered some kind of psychic trauma and spat up a mouthful of blood on the spot.

Tide Si was about to be driven mad. As the beast who led the original charge, it had also been the first to fold. Its divine aura, which had dimmed until even the ocean that birthed it could barely heal it, suddenly flared like a final blaze before extinguishing.

It lifted a hoof and kicked toward Dique from afar, voice trembling, blood gurgling: “Coward… you surrendered without a fight! What about our dignity… our pride… as primal beasts—pfft!”

Waves surged up the shore toward Dique.

Hexin shook his head. He could tell Tide Si had completely lost its cool. Even in its prime, Tide Si might not have been able to break through Dique’s defenses—let alone now, when it was half-dead.

Sure enough, the raging attack bounced off Dique like a wet sponge, and the panda calmly patted its soggy fur and licked its paw. “Too salty.”

Watching its lazily swaying head, Hexin’s mind wandered. He imagined what it might feel like to pat that fluffy head—and narrowed his eyes in longing. Yeah… a little tempted to pet.

Beside him, Mondo immediately picked up on the shift in Hexin’s energy. Misinterpreting it as danger, he tensed and moved closer, wings spreading protectively like he could shield Hexin from anything.

Far off in the ocean, Tide Si saw this and its chest heaved violently. The surrounding sea trembled, rippling like a shattered mirror under stormy skies.

Feeling slightly guilty, Dique feared the sea beast king might truly drop dead from rage—and if that happened, the sea beasts would be left leaderless. Which meant yet another messy power struggle. Really, among the three primeval factions, Earth was still the most worry-free. Laid-back, slow-paced, food-loving slackers with zero drama—what’s not to love?

“You really didn’t have to do all this,” Dique said, eyeing Tide Si with a mixture of pity and affection. The kind of expression that only made the other beast want to self-combust.

Tide Si: “Heh!”

“And with your stubborn temper, no wonder the war god always went looking for Mondo instead of playing with you,” Dique added, sighing, as if recalling something. “In the end, hiding in some gloomy shadow like a ghost, gnawing your own hooves while staring at them with a creepy, jealous look… wasn’t that you?”

Hexin raised an eyebrow. He could practically see the mental image. Mondo, beside him, clearly didn’t know about this either. His wings twitched slightly, and the look he cast toward Tide Si… was complicated.

Tide Si, having just been publicly executed: “…”

“…You were spying on me!!!”

So that’s a confession, huh?

“It’s not that I was spying on you—you always throw tantrums and start digging with your hooves, and I was literally sleeping underground. You think it was easy for me? I had to move houses so many times because of you.”

Dique never said it out loud, but as the Earth lineage’s most loyal (and terrified) representative, it had to admit—Hexin was terrifying as an enemy, but as a teammate? Solid as a rock.

Back in the divine era, even though the primeval beasts had already submitted under the war god’s banner, friction between gods and beasts still ran high beneath the surface. And as the unofficial leaders of all beasts, the three primeval kings were always the ones who took the blame whenever something went wrong. It got to the point where vengeful challengers would constantly come knocking.

Dique hated fighting, so it smartly made its den right beside the war god. No one dared chase trouble there—until a certain pig-teammate named Tide Si started kicking up dirt outside its door every other day. Peace? What peace?

Dique lived on forced drama, always caught in someone else’s mess. Truly tragic.

Tide Si opened its mouth again, ready to snap back—when it suddenly froze.

It had sensed it—that painfully familiar gaze.

The sea-blue beast stiffened from head to tail, lifting its head slowly—only to meet Hexin’s eyes, glinting with a faint smile.

Hexin said calmly, “Is that so? I always thought you hated me.”

“…Don’t flatter yourself!” Tide Si roared, dragging itself upright. Standing proud in the middle of the sea, its eyes burned like twin stars. “I was simply searching for your weakness. I lost to your spear once—but I will return the shame! I will prove myself again—for the honour of all sea beasts!”

Dique blinked at the conviction. “…But didn’t you just get one-shot again today?”

Tide Si didn’t argue. It simply stared at the crowd coldly, still standing—alone—on the water’s surface. Beneath it, beast after beast lay sprawled and unconscious.

That lonely silhouette, defending the last scrap of dignity it had, looked strangely tragic. It stood like a defiant monument—wounded, bloodied, but unbowed.

Mondo frowned. Maybe it hit too close to home. Sympathy, he thought, could feel like an insult to the proud.

But before he could say anything—

Hexin’s voice cut through the wind. Softer than usual. “I look forward to the day you find my weakness.”

Mondo turned. And froze.

Hexin’s eyes were glowing.

That deep, dangerous light—the one that only sparked when he was truly interested—was back. It flared like fire behind glass. Awe-inspiring. Blazing.

For the first time, this proud god was genuinely looking at Tide Si. Not brushing him aside, not flattening him like a weed. Looking. Seeing.

Among the crushed reeds of this battlefield, a wild grass had grown crooked and stubborn, refusing to bow—and so the war god had finally cast his eyes down to study it.

And for reasons Mondo couldn’t explain, a quiet storm rumbled in his chest.

No one else knew what Hexin was thinking.

But in truth, his heart was filled with a single thought: This kid’s got potential.

Tide Si had—by accident or instinct—stumbled onto the only working method of getting the war god’s attention.

As someone who had studied the script of the divine era front to back, Hexin knew very well that the war god’s type was equal strength rivals only. Too bad that bar was set somewhere near “impossible.”

That left one other niche.

The indestructible cockroach type.

If Tide Si could keep doing what he was doing—lose, refuse to give up, get stronger, come back for more—and actually improve, then maybe… just maybe… the war god would stop seeing him as “some random loser” and start calling him a “decent underling.”

Now that would be a major promotion.

Hexin’s gaze practically glowed with the warmth of a proud dad.

Tide Si, for his part, looked completely stunned. He wasn’t used to being seen like this. No, more than that—he’d never been seen like this. And it showed.

He stood there, frozen, unable to speak.

Hexin, ever the martial god, offered words of encouragement: “There’s no need to rush. Skill and strength may come from talent, but hard work matters too. I welcome any challenge, ambush included. Just remember—I won’t hold back.”

As for Dique? Hexin had long since given up on that walking plush toy. That one was clearly created for comic relief.

Tide Si seemed to regain his composure. He opened his mouth—but Mondo cut in smoothly, “There’s no need. Every time he finishes sparring with me, he runs over and tries to pick a fight. I think he just likes me better.”

Hexin turned. “Is that so?”

Tide Si’s eye twitched. “Mondo, you—!”

Mondo interrupted again, tone light and venomous: “Since we’re both primal beasts, our strength ought to be equal. But if you can’t even beat me, what’s the point?”

He turned his sharp gaze toward Dique.

“…Right?”

Dique: “……” Do not look at me. I am not part of your love triangle.

[T/N: LOL]