Calm, composed, and deadly.

Neigh!

The sharp whinny of horses cut through the morning air as a group of leather-armored riders surged through the city gates, their hooves pounding against the cobbled path like a rolling drumbeat of departure.

At the forefront rode two young men, nearly mirror images of each other—Damien and Devrok—though their auras couldn't have been more different.

Damien, cold and composed, sat tall and silent, eyes scanning their surroundings with the calm of a predator. Devrok, on the other hand, wore a rare, easygoing smile that seemed to lighten the very air around him.

The wind tousled Devrok's unruly hair as his horse trotted beside Damien's. There was a lightness in his posture now—his shoulders no longer stiff with burden, his gaze no longer clouded by hesitation.

It was as if some invisible weight had finally slipped from his back.

Damien could see it. Though subtle, the change in Devrok was unmistakable. The boy who had once clung to the hope of awakening had shed that hope—and with it, the chains that had bound him in place.

Devrok chuckled, a low, amused sound that contrasted the deep rustling of trees around them.

"Watch out for your head," he said, grinning as he glanced sideways. "Someone might be aiming for it again."

The voice carried to the other soldiers, who broke into knowing chuckles. They remembered the last journey to Mesarith City all too well.

Damien's gaze didn't shift, but inside he sighed.

What an insensitive elder brother...his younger nearly died last time and now he's cracking jokes.

His face, as usual, betrayed nothing.

The group continued on. The road gradually thinned and twisted, giving way to untamed wilderness. Trees leaned in from both sides, casting flickering shadows under the golden sunlight. The deeper they went, the heavier the air grew—thick with the earthy scent of moss, damp soil, and wild vegetation.

The laughter faded. Nature itself hushed them.

Hours passed. The land flattened out, and thick vines crept over the trunks of ancient trees. Blood-curdling roars occasionally echoed in the distance—warnings carried on the wind.

Devrok's posture stiffened slightly as the scent of danger grew stronger.

Suddenly, he pulled on his reins and clapped once.

Without a word, one of the soldiers dismounted, pulling a pouch from his satchel. He dipped his hands in white powder and began rubbing it across the exposed skin of his comrades.

The scent was sharp—like crushed herbs and old ash.

It was a forest survival blend designed to mask their scent, essential when venturing deep into the Ten Thousand Beast Forest.

Damien remained still as the powder brushed across his skin, cool and slightly gritty. The soldiers resumed the march in silence, more alert now.

Their path led them deeper into the heart of danger. As Devrok had explained earlier, their destination was near the border between the first and second layers of the forest—where the trees grew denser, the air heavier, and the monsters deadlier.

The low growl of beasts rumbled from behind thick brush as if warning the group away.

Damien's eyes narrowed.

He knew the forest hierarchy. Iron rank monsters dominated the outer layer. But cross into the inner edge, and you'd find yourself hunted by Silver rank beasts. Their mission led them right to the line.

Suddenly—

Howl!

A piercing cry sliced through the tense silence. The horses reared and neighed in alarm. The soldiers jerked in their saddles, drawing weapons instinctively.

Devrok's hand flew to his sword, his eyes narrowing.

"...Lightning Wolf!"

Perched on a tree stump ahead was a massive beast—its fur shimmered with crackling blue arcs. The Lightning Wolf, its eyes devoid of emotion, gazed at them with the quiet hunger of a predator at the edge of a feast.

The next howl was louder, urgent—summoning reinforcements.

"Move!" Devrok shouted, his voice a sharp bark. "It's calling its pack—take it down fast!"

He surged forward like a drawn arrow, sword slicing through overgrown brush with practiced precision. The soldiers followed, steel flashing as they closed the distance.

The tension in the air rose with the static—literally. The beast sparked violently, its presence making the very air tingle against their skin. Sparks danced from its claws, a warning of the voltage coiled beneath its hide.

"Don't engage directly! One touch and you're fried!" Devrok warned as the beast snarled.

Damien, hanging back, studied the battle from a distance. His breath was steady, his eyes sharp.

He unslung the crossbow from his back. The string creaked softly as he pulled it back, loading a bolt with slow precision.

He had no plans to use the gun—not yet. Ammunition was too precious a resource to waste unless absolutely necessary.

From fifty meters away, Damien locked onto his target.

The wolf lashed out. One soldier was too slow to retreat. The beast's tail whipped forward—sizzle!—and the man's scream tore through the trees as sparks danced across his armor. He crumpled to the forest floor, twitching.

The others didn't falter. Gritting their teeth, they pressed forward with grimmer resolve.

From behind them came a commanding voice.

"Split into four teams! Surround the wolf from all sides!"

The soldiers froze for a moment, exchanging unsure glances with Devrok.

Devrok hesitated—but then nodded. "Do it."

He didn't understand Damien's full plan—but he trusted him.

The soldiers obeyed.

Four teams fanned out, each taking a side. They circled the beast slowly, blades raised, keeping distance.

The Lightning Wolf's fur bristled.Its eyes flicked from one face to another.

Wolf knew it was trapped.

Damien didn't move.

Instead, he turned inward, diving deep into the sea of his consciousness. After countless repetitions and long hours of silent practice, he had finally managed to form a faint link with the Acceleration Marble.

Stirred by his focused will, the marble—floating in his spiritual space—shivered slightly, releasing faint pulses of energy. A soft silvery glow began to radiate from within, rippling outward until it enveloped Damien's head like a second skin.

Then it hit.

His mind—previously dulled by the thick forest air and the stress of travel—suddenly snapped into clarity. Thoughts that once meandered now surged forward like a raging river. His senses, already sharp, began feeding him information at a much faster rate.

The edges of his eyes shimmered, taking on a soft silver hue.

Boom.

A subdued explosion echoed in his head, not of pain, but power. And then—stillness.

To others, nothing had changed.

But to Damien, the world had shifted.

Leaves falling from the trees appeared to drift in slow motion. The muscles of the Lightning Wolf twitched in exaggerated detail. The arcs of electricity flickering along its fur slowed into flowing trails of light, and each step of the soldiers became a carefully telegraphed motion.

He wasn't just seeing.

He was predicting.

Every breath the beast took, every minute twitch of its limbs, Damien's accelerated mind processed it all and extrapolated its next move. The future, a split second ahead, had become visible.

And in this silence, Damien raised his crossbow once more—calm, composed, and deadly.