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There was an old saying: “To give wings to a tiger.” It meant making something already strong even stronger.
Among the countless predators of the natural world, the tiger reigned at the very top of the food chain, more than capable of tearing apart any C-rank beast and below.
They were the undisputed King of the Mountains. Even without techniques, the species ruled entire territories simply by rampaging with its raw power and savagery. In the case of exceptional individuals, they were strong enough to contend with B-rank monsters over dominion.
So, then. If such a beast were given wings, how much stronger could it become? That was how the phrase was born.
Leon steadied himself after meeting Urakan’s strike head-on. The Holy Sword quivered in his grip. The sheer force behind it was that great.
Power, speed, and technique—all combined into one attack. Even though only a few seconds had passed, the sting in his hands made Leon click his tongue despite himself.
A flying tiger… Makes sense.
Amused, El-Cid chimed in, —Hah! That’s a pretty adorable comparison. His martial arts are still infantile, but with that physique, he’s dangerous. It’s his own rough-hewn style, forged from experience. Plenty of talent, too. He’s stronger than some fool who half-learned a flashy art.
It was true. The tiger beastkin had physical ability on par with B-rank monsters on average. And Urakan was the strongest of them all, a chieftain famed across his generation.
Yet he wasn’t content with raw might. He had sought martial...
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