**Chapter 73: The Relentless Hunt on the Mountain

The mountain loomed ahead like a colossus forged by gods, its jagged peaks tearing into the heavens. Clouds swirled ominously around its summit, as if shielding the secrets it held within. The air carried a sharp, biting cold that seemed to creep into my bones, despite the warmth of the sunlight below.

I stood at its base with Pyre and the wolf by my side. The wind howled, carrying with it an eerie silence—no birds, no rustling leaves, no sound of life. This place was dead, and yet it felt alive, as though the mountain itself was aware of us, watching, waiting to see if I would break.

Pyre gestured upward, his crimson eyes fixed on me. "This is where your next challenge begins, Ash."

My heart sank as I followed his gaze. The mountain stretched endlessly above, its sheer cliffs glinting with patches of ice and jagged rock. This wasn't just a climb. It was a death sentence for anyone unprepared.

"What... what exactly am I doing here?" I asked, my voice a mix of dread and curiosity.

Pyre smirked, that infuriatingly cryptic expression I'd come to hate. "Fifty hunting birds," he said simply.

I blinked. "Fifty what?"

"Hunting birds," he repeated. "Massive creatures, twenty meters from wingtip to wingtip, jet-black feathers, glowing blue eyes. You'll find them near the summit."

"And?" I prompted, already feeling the pit of dread forming in my stomach.

"You have to catch them. Alive. No injuries. No deaths." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "And certainly no torn feathers."

My jaw dropped. "That's insane. How am I supposed to catch fifty of those things without... without killing them?!"

"You're strong," Pyre said, shrugging. "You'll figure it out."

I wanted to argue, to protest the sheer absurdity of the task, but the look in his eyes told me it was pointless. This was a lesson, a test. Complaining wouldn't change a thing.

I swallowed hard and nodded. "Fine. Let's do this."

Pyre activated a relic, a glowing disk of light that hovered just above the ground. He motioned for me to step on, and as I did, the relic began to rise, carrying us upward at an alarming speed.

The world below fell away, shrinking into a patchwork of green and brown. The forest we'd left behind looked like a distant memory, its trees mere specks against the vast expanse of the valley.

But as we ascended, the beauty of the world below gave way to the harsh reality of the mountain. The air grew colder, thinner, each breath a struggle. The wind whipped around us, carrying with it a biting chill that stung my skin.

When we reached the summit, the landscape had transformed entirely. The ground was a patchwork of ice and jagged stone, treacherous and unyielding. Above us, the hunting birds circled like predators, their black feathers glinting in the pale light.

Pyre stepped off the relic, his boots crunching against the frost-covered ground. "This is your battleground," he said, gesturing to the sky. "Those birds are your prey. You have ten days. No food. No rest. And no excuses."

I stared at him, my stomach sinking. "You're really just going to leave me here?"

He grinned. "You're not a child, Ash. You'll figure it out."

With that, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the mist.

The first day was a disaster.

I spent hours watching the birds, studying their movements, trying to find a weakness. But every time I thought I'd spotted an opening, they proved me wrong. They were fast, agile, and impossibly coordinated, working together to outmaneuver me at every turn.

When I finally worked up the courage to make my first attempt, I leapt toward one of the lower-flying birds, activating the Ring of the Colorless Sky to sharpen my perception. Time seemed to slow as I reached for its leg, my claws extending.

But the bird was faster. With a single flap of its massive wings, it sent a gust of wind that knocked me off course, slamming me into the cliffside.

Pain shot through my ribs as I tumbled to the ground, landing in a heap. I groaned, clutching my side, but there was no time to rest. The birds circled above, their glowing eyes fixed on me like predators assessing their prey.

I tried again. And again. And again. Each time, the result was the same. The birds were too fast, too smart.

By the end of the first day, I hadn't caught a single one.

The days blurred together into a relentless cycle of failure and exhaustion.

The birds seemed to sense my desperation, taunting me with their evasive maneuvers. They worked in groups, one distracting me while another launched an attack from behind.

I fell more times than I could count. My hands were raw, my claws chipped and bloodied. The icy wind tore at my skin, each gust a reminder of how hopeless this task seemed.

But I refused to give up.

On the third day, I finally caught my first bird. It was a small victory, but it ignited a spark of hope.

I began to adapt, using the environment to my advantage. I lured the birds into narrow spaces where their massive wingspan worked against them. I climbed higher, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

By the fifth day, I had captured fifteen birds. My body ached, my muscles screamed in protest, but I pressed on.

On the seventh day, I faced my greatest challenge yet.

A shadow passed over me, and I looked up to see the largest bird I'd encountered so far. Its wingspan was nearly double that of the others, its feathers shimmering like oil in the sunlight.

It dove toward me with terrifying speed, its talons extended and glowing with a faint blue energy.

I activated both rings, my perception sharpening to a razor's edge. Time seemed to slow as I calculated the bird's trajectory, waiting for the perfect moment.

When it was mere meters away, I leapt toward it, meeting its attack head-on. The impact nearly knocked me unconscious, but I held on, wrapping my arms around its neck and delivering a precise strike to render it unconscious.

The fall was brutal, but I managed to slow my descent by dragging my claws along the cliffside.

When I finally landed, the bird safely in my grasp, I collapsed to the ground, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

On the tenth day, I stood at the edge of the cliff, staring up at the lone bird that remained.

This one was different. It didn't taunt me or evade me like the others. It simply hovered in place, watching me with those piercing blue eyes.

Summoning every ounce of strength I had left, I leapt into the air, my body defying gravity as I soared toward the bird.

It didn't move.

I grabbed hold of its leg, expecting a struggle, but it remained still, almost as if it had accepted its fate.

When I landed, I placed it gently with the others, my hands trembling.

"I did it," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Pyre appeared from the mist, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the fifty birds lined up before him.

"You've done well," he said finally.

I wanted to respond, but exhaustion overtook me, pulling me into the darkness of sleep.