Hunting

Eryon sat behind the wheel of his off-road vehicle, cruising toward Aden Forest. The journey was long—about 63 kilometers from his home.

After nearly 40 minutes of driving, he reached a small settlement called Fusu, the closest village to Aden Forest. Yet, even the so-called "closest" was still 20 kilometers away. The village served as a parking area for travelers and a gathering point for awakeners preparing for their hunts.

But Eryon didn't stop. He pressed the gas pedal harder, pushing forward into the wilderness.

The smooth asphalt gradually gave way to rough, uneven terrain. Rocks jutted from the ground, and the path became bumpy, but his vehicle handled it with ease, gliding over the rugged road without losing momentum.

After another 25 minutes, he finally brought the car to a stop. Surrounding him were towering ancient trees, their thick canopies casting deep shadows. The air was heavier here—humid and rich with the scent of damp earth. The sounds of birds and insects were louder, a constant chorus of the untamed wild.

From a distance, the forest stretched endlessly, its dense greenery both alluring and ominous.

Eryon smirked, his eyes flashing with anticipation. "Aden Forest… you'd better have something worthwhile."

----

As Eryon approached the forest, his sharp eyes briefly noticed an old man leaning against a moss-covered rock, a straw hat casting a shadow over his face.

The man seemed to be watching him, but Eryon didn't stop. He didn't care.

Without a word, he stepped into the forest, his focus solely on what lay ahead.

Behind him, the old man remained seated, observing his departure with a slight furrow in his brow. His fingers absently stroked his beard as a thought surfaced.

"That boy… he looks... familiar."

A flicker of recognition crossed his face, but it faded just as quickly. With a quiet sigh, he shook his head.

"No… just a passing resemblance, nothing more."

And with that, he closed his eyes, returning to his silent meditation.

-----

Eryon pushed deeper into the forest, his eyes scanning the dense greenery as the untamed wilderness surrounded him. The calls of birds and the steady hum of insects filled the air, a constant, unbroken melody of the wild.

Yet, for all the distance he had covered, he hadn't encountered a single monster or predator. It had been 25 minutes since he started walking, and the warning symbols carved into the trees were still within sight—clear evidence that he had yet to step into truly dangerous territory.

Impatience gnawed at him. Without hesitation, he picked up his pace, breaking into a run and leaving the warning signs far behind.

----

"Pant! Pant!"

His breaths came in sharp, ragged gasps as he braced himself against the trunk of a massive tree. He had no idea how long he had been running.

The forest had grown unnervingly silent. The once vibrant chorus of the wild had faded, leaving only the sound of his own breathing.

Even after all this, he had found nothing. No monsters. No beasts lurking in the shadows.

"Did I pick the wrong place?" he muttered, irritation thick in his voice. "Tch. I need to change my approach."

Without wasting another second, he reached into his spatial ring and pulled out Durandal, his grip tightening around the hilt. A sharp glint of anticipation flashed in his eyes as he surged forward, cutting deeper into the heart of the forest.

Minutes stretched into another half hour, yet the results remained the same.

"Where the hell are you, monsters?!" he snarled, frustration boiling over.

Rustle! Rustle!

Eryon had barely finished shouting when the nearby bushes began to tremble. His heartbeat quickened, a gleam of anticipation flashing in his eyes.

Finally.

And sure enough, a Warg emerged from the underbrush—a massive wolf-like beast with eyes as sharp as blades and fangs glistening like polished daggers.

Eryon's grin stretched wider. "At last... Let's see what you've got, big dog."

"GRAAGH!"

With a guttural snarl, the Warg lunged, its monstrous speed blurring the air.

Eryon reacted instantly, raising Durandal to meet the attack.

Clang!

The sheer force of the impact sent him sliding back several steps, his boots carving trenches into the dirt.

Yet, he smirked. "This is what fighting feels like!"

The Warg circled him, muscles tensed, watching for an opening. Meanwhile, Eryon adjusted his grip on Durandal, anticipation thrumming in his veins.

Then—another attack.

The beast lunged, fangs bared, but this time, Eryon was faster. He swung his sword, unleashing a sharp, fast attack.

Slash!

The blade's arc struck true, carving a deep wound into the Warg's side.

It howled in pain, but then, its growl deepened, rage twisting its features.

Then, the Warg attacked again—faster, wilder, deadlier.

Clang! Clang!

Blow after blow rained down. Sparks ignited in the air as claws clashed against steel, their battle painting the forest in streaks of fury.

But Eryon could feel it—the growing strain in his muscles, the mounting energy within Durandal that still refused to obey him completely.

And then, the Warg saw its chance.

In one swift move, it tore through his guard.

SLASH!

Sharp claws raked across his side, ripping through flesh.

Hot pain lanced through him. Blood seeped into his clothes.

Eryon stumbled back, hissing, but the beast didn't stop—if anything, his injury only made it more vicious.

It lunged again.

This time, Eryon didn't move.

He simply waited.

Then—just as the Warg closed in—his left hand shot forward.

A surge of purple energy erupted from his palm, wrapping around the beast like an unseen chain.

Gravity.

The Warg froze mid-air, body suspended by the crushing force.

As if answering the call of his power, Durandal hummed, drinking the gravitational energy like a starved beast.

Eryon's gaze sharpened. And in a single, fluid motion—he lunged.

Stab!

His sword pierced straight through the Warg's throat, severing muscle and bone with brutal precision.

A strangled howl escaped the beast's lips.

But he wasn't done.

Without hesitation, he wrenched the blade free and swung again.

Durandal's edge carved effortlessly through flesh—splitting the Warg's head from its body in one clean strike.

Thud.

The severed head hit the ground with a heavy finality.

Eryon exhaled, chest rising and falling. Pain throbbed in his side, blood still trickling from the wound, but satisfaction burned in his eyes.

His first hunt. His first victory.

He had won.

A moment passed before he finally steadied his breathing and dropped onto the ground, gaze locked onto the lifeless corpse before him.

"Can you steal its power, System?" he asked, voice low.

[Yes, I can]

[You don't need to ask. If you want to steal someone's power, just touch them and imagine it]

Eryon smirked. "Good."

With anticipation thrumming in his chest, he reached out, his fingers brushing against the Warg's cold, motionless form.

"Let's see... what you can give me."