Rematch

Soren was crouched near the ground, studying the scattered footprints with narrowed eyes.

There are tracks in the middle of the forest… Are they heading somewhere—or searching for something?

To be traveling through terrain like this, they can't be weak.

There were multiple sets of footprints, clustered closely together. Judging from the patterns and spacing, it looked like a group of four to six people had passed through this area.

If they're moving in a group that small, they must be capable fighters. You wouldn't risk traveling through a forest like this without strength. There are deeper impressions, too… at least three sets. Either they're carrying something heavy—or those individuals are larger, most likely male. The spacing and the fading of the prints suggest they passed through two or three days ago.

Soren rose slightly, scanning the direction the tracks led, then glanced back toward the dense foliage behind him. He weighed his options.

He could continue alone… or he could trail this group from a distance, observing where they were headed—and who they really were.

His brows furrowed.

Truthfully, his journey thus far had been exhausting. Grueling. Had it not been for Aeternis, he likely would've died more than once already. Continuing alone was possible—but dangerous. One misstep, one unlucky encounter, and he wouldn't even have time to realize what killed him.

Traveling with a group that knew their way around might not be the worst idea.

But there was a problem.

He didn't actually know if these tracks belonged to humans.

He glanced down at the prints again, then shifted his eyes toward Aeternis, resting at his side.

"Humans?" he asked quietly, more curious than cautious.

Aeternis was silent for a moment, as if contemplating the question.

"…Most likely," it replied at last, its tone unusually subdued.

Then it fell quiet again.

It was rare for the sword to go quiet so quickly—almost like it had slipped into thought, mulling over something it hadn't voiced aloud.

Soren didn't press further. He gave Aeternis a fleeting glance, then turned his attention back to the trail of footsteps.

Traveling alone was a possibility… but this path is safer. If only I can find the 'humans' before they notice me.

He began following the trail. The direction was roughly perpendicular to his original path—there was a chance he wasn't heading anywhere meaningful at all, perhaps even deeper into the Havens. Still, it was better than wandering blindly. At the very least, the group ahead might provide some hint of direction. They could be his salvation… or the end of his journey.

***

By the time half a day had passed, Soren had grown accustomed to the subtle rhythm of the trail. He stopped often, listening for echoes in the forest—anything that might hint at the group's presence or warn him of danger. The pauses slowed his pace, but caution was preferable to walking blindly into an ambush.

Yet something began to gnaw at the edge of his awareness.

A faint pressure. A whisper of unease that made the hair at the back of his neck bristle.

Someone—or something—was watching him.

He kept his expression neutral, his posture composed. He had grown used to the sensation of being stalked. But this… this was different. Every time he paused, pretending to examine the surroundings, he subtly scanned the forest, trying to pinpoint the source of that creeping sensation.

It was like the air behind him kept shifting, like unseen eyes were trailing his every move.

Then, as he moved beneath a low-hanging canopy, a quiet mumble slipped from his lips—not his own.

"A rematch… Pfft. Scoundrel."

Soren froze, blinking.

He glanced down at Aeternis, confused. "What… did you just say?"

But the sword offered no further response, as if the words had been murmured from some buried place within its arrogance rather than meant for conversation.

Soren frowned faintly, unsure whether the remark was meant for him—or for something else entirely.

As Soren came to a stop, his gaze darted around the towering trees and tangled underbrush.

No sounds.

The forest was unnaturally quiet—eerily still. He instinctively backed up against a tree, ensuring nothing could sneak up behind him. And then… he noticed it.

A pair of bushes were shifting softly in the distance—around twenty meters away. But there was no sound. No rustling, no crunch of leaves. Just movement without noise.

Soren narrowed his eyes, still as stone, fixated on the bushes. Yet… nothing followed. The foliage remained motionless again, as if nothing had happened at all.

But something felt familiar.

It's the same monster from before… It moves silently—without making any—

A leaf drifted down from above, brushing past his cheek and cutting through his thoughts.

Then—something warm and wet touched the top of his head.

Followed by a soft gust of hot breath.

Soren's eyes widened.

He looked up.

A gaping maw was descending toward him, jaws stretched wide, razor-sharp teeth glinting in the dim light—aimed directly at his head, ready to snap his skull in half.

He dove forward instinctively, rolling across the ground as the creature lunged past him.

Dirt clung to his palms as he spun around, eyes locking onto the threat.

The monster's gaze met his.

Obsidian-black fur gleamed faintly as it clung to the trunk of the tree, its massive form crouched in the branches above. It was the same creature from before—sleek, muscular, and impossibly silent. A pair of hind legs clung tightly to the bark, razor-sharp claws dug deep into the wood for support as it slowly descended—each movement deliberate and feline, yet almost ghostlike in silence.

Soren tightened his grip on Aeternis. He'd had plenty of time since their last encounter to prepare—to think through what went wrong.

He couldn't manipulate essence with precision—not yet. But in the chamber, he had learned the first step toward controlling it. It wasn't anything fancy or intricate, but it was enough for what he had in mind.

He had a plan.

The monster landed on the forest floor in eerie silence, crouched low, eyes swirling like fractured mirrors.

Soren moved first—rushing forward with essence surging into his arms, each motion deliberately powered.

His dagger slashed through the air—fast, forceful.

And just like before, the monster evaded.

It danced backward in perfect rhythm, weaving through each strike with fluid grace.

None of the swings connected.

Soren gritted his teeth. His method of manipulating essence was still crude—unsophisticated, raw. He kept pressing forward, chasing the monster as it effortlessly dodged every strike.

Then he overextended.

The monster lunged.

*THUD*

Soren crashed to the ground, claw marks tearing across his chest. Pain flared sharply, but he gritted through it and rolled back to his feet.

The creature's eyes locked onto him—vibrant, unblinking. It wasn't just reacting. It was reading. As if Soren was part of a performance, and the monster simply responded to each scene with flawless timing.

Soren steadied his breath.

He charged again—essence flooding his arms once more. His strikes were wild, rapid, deliberate. But still… every blow missed.

And yet, he didn't stop.

Again.

And again.

Each motion carried the same weight. The same flow. The same essence signature.

A pattern.

Crude, but clear.

The monster's focus sharpened—its gaze locking solely onto his arms.

That was the moment.

Essence surged into his left arm once more—visibly, deliberately.

But in his right hand… he held the dagger.

Soren threw his left arm forward, the motion sharper, faster than before—just enough to draw the eye.

The monster flinched, reacting to the obvious threat.

But the blade was already in the air—essence-free, soundless, invisible to the monster's trained perception.

It struck clean.

A sharp hiss of steel. A geyser of thick, tar-like blood.

Aeternis carved through flesh and bone in a single elegant arc, painting the forest floor in shadowed crimson.

The monster collapsed, eyes flickering in stunned confusion—its instincts betrayed by its own conditioning. It writhed on the ground, gasping for breath, but the blood poured freely, forming a dark pool beneath its twitching form.

And Soren stood still, chest heaving.

"Tch… The goddess gave you a blessing that would've made this a far simpler fight, but it seems you enjoy a beating, so I won't scrutinize," Aeternis remarked with a dramatic sigh.

Soren exhaled quietly.

It was true—he could've used the goddess's blessing. If he had, the monster might not have been able to sense any of his essence at all, making the fight effortless. But he had reasons to hold back.

If he ran into that group while the blessing was still active, and they saw him survive in the forest without essence… they might see him as a monster. They'd strike first, ask questions never. That risk wasn't worth it—not when he still didn't know who they were or what they wanted.

Before he could dwell on the thought further, a voice echoed in his head.

"You have slain a Tier 2 Awakened, Obsidian Hunter. Your soul strengthens."

So that was a Tier 2 of the Awakened rank… but it didn't seem physically stronger than the Harbringers. Maybe within the same rank, the differences between tiers aren't that significant

Soren filed the thought away.

But then, the voice returned—this time sounding almost cheerful.

"You have received an Inheritance."

So I can get inheritances just from killing monsters now?

Aeternis perked up in joy. "Scallywag! We shall make camp here and enjoy the feast of victory!"

Soren didn't argue. He was tired—and food was as good a reason as any to take a break.