One Jump To Another

Mana Gathering—a technique that required a Hunter's refined control over their senses. It was shaped primarily by two core stats and one optional: Wisdom, Intelligence, and Vitality.

The Wisdom Stat served as the foundation. It determined how efficiently a Hunter could absorb the ambient mana from their surroundings. The higher the Wisdom, the purer the mana drawn. And the purer the mana, the faster the recovery of Mana Points. In contrast, impure mana acted like poison—slowing down recovery, disrupting flow.

Intelligence governed the conversion rate—how quickly and effectively mana could be processed into usable energy. It also dictated how precisely mana could be shaped and molded, depending on a Hunter's Skills. For magic-oriented builds, this stat was everything.

Then came Vitality. While it didn't directly enhance mana control, its value lay in resistance and endurance. Hunters with high Vitality could endure massive quantities of volatile or hostile mana without breaking apart. Some powerful Skills demanded so much energy that using them with low Vitality would cause internal damage—or instant death. Vitality was often the unsung protector of those brave enough to wield high-cost abilities.

In truth, every stat could influence Mana Control—as long as it aligned with the Hunter's build or their Skill nature. Vitality just happened to be the most commonly used "support stat" alongside Wisdom and Intelligence.

Without the right stats, Mana Gathering was impossible.

And even with them, newly Awakened Hunters remained ordinary humans until the ceremony was complete. They couldn't even sense mana properly.

But that rule only applied to normal candidates.

River was far from normal.

His eyes locked onto the charging Silverback Antelopes, their thunderous steps shaking the ground like a marching army.

He inhaled deeply.

And in that moment, the world slowed.

His senses expanded—no longer just listening or observing, but feeling… searching… reaching for something unseen.

Then it clicked.

With a single thought, he reversed the usual flow of the Mana Gathering technique. Instead of drawing mana inward, he projected his senses outward—coating the incoming beasts with an invisible layer of awareness.

It was a modification no ordinary Hunter could dream of. But River?

In another timeline, they called him the Ultimate Mana Controller—a title earned through decades of battle and mastery. And though he had returned to a body that had yet to Awaken, his mind and soul carried the full weight of that knowledge.

Mana Gathering wasn't just a recovery method anymore.

He'd evolved it into a battlefield analyzer.

Countless variables rushed into his brain: distance, angle, momentum, trajectory. The Silverbacks were beasts of muscle and speed, but River saw patterns in their chaos—an opening in the stampede just wide enough for a human body.

No beginner could process that much information at once. A normal mind would've shut down.

But River moved.

Dashing forward, he slipped between the first two antelopes like a shadow. His bag scraped their hides with a dull clunk, but he didn't slow.

A split second later, one of the monsters lunged—horns lowered. River twisted his torso, just avoiding the impact, then used the rebound of his step to leap—

—onto its back.

He barely felt the impact. His body was already in motion again.

Another beast charged beside him. River jumped from the first antelope to the second, timing his movement to the rhythm of their pounding legs.

He gritted his teeth against the strain, sweat already forming at his brow. But his eyes were clear, sharp—calculating.

Step by step, leap by leap—

River began to run across the backs of Silverback Antelopes like stepping stones in a storm.

The monsters beneath him were swift, each step timed to a rhythm that demanded absolute precision. River had no room for error—he had to land at the perfect moment, at the perfect spot, before pushing off again. He wasn't trying to cover vast distance with each leap. No, what mattered most was evading the stampede of Silverback Antelopes.

Even if he advanced only a meter or two at a time, it was enough—as long as he kept moving.

A spark lit in his eyes as the edge of the herd finally came into view. But just as a wave of relief threatened to wash over him, it was replaced by something far more dangerous—fatigue.

It hit like a hammer.

An overwhelming heaviness clamped onto his limbs, and a nauseating pressure pressed down on his chest. Running non-stop, leaping across monsters, and using the mentally exhausting Mana Gathering technique—it had drained him dry.

It felt like being tossed in the middle of a raging ocean, the currents pulling, tugging, and dragging him down. He was drowning.

Suffocating.

But River knew—if he gave in now, it was over.

Gritting his teeth, he forced his body to move.

His feet barely touched the monsters' backs before he launched again, inching forward with every agonizing step. One meter. Half a meter. Less. But gradually, the sound of hooves behind him began to fade.

The herd was thinning.

Then, with a final burst of effort, he hurled himself from the last antelope and crashed onto solid ground.

He landed hard, his body tumbling across the dirt, rolling and scraping against the rough terrain until he finally came to a stop.

There was no time to rest.

He didn't even glance back.

With aching limbs and burning lungs, River forced himself to his feet and bolted forward. His ragged breathing echoed in his ears. Sweat poured into his eyes, and his soaked hair stuck to his face. The world blurred—but still, he ran.

Then—a deafening explosion erupted behind him.

Heat surged up his back. The air behind him tore apart with a sharp, sizzling crack, like golden lightning trying to catch him but failing just barely.

"I have to run more!" River growled, digging deep, pushing all his remaining strength into his legs.

But his exhaustion caught up.

His foot clipped a root, and the next thing he knew, he was rolling uncontrollably again—until his side slammed into a tree trunk with a painful thud.

"Argh!" River gasped, clutching his ribs. "F*ck! That hurts…"

He lay there, panting, the world spinning slightly. The echo of explosions still rang through the forest, but they sounded more distant now.

Gritting his teeth, River forced himself upright, one hand gripping the side that hit the tree.

His narrowed eyes scanned the forest behind him. In the distance, golden flashes continued to light up the sky, accompanied by faint glimmers—likely Skills from Nolan's harem.

He didn't know exactly what abilities those five women possessed, but he doubted they were anything exceptional. They acted like typical social climbers—after power, fame, and association. Still, right now, even weak enemies could kill him if he wasn't careful.

But the real problem wasn't the women.

It was Nolan.

The infamous Sun God Mage.

Even now—long before he gained that title—Nolan already had the strength to clear B-Rank Dungeons. River could tell just from the golden fire he unleashed. That young man could have caught up to him anytime—but didn't.

Why?

River couldn't guess. Trying to understand someone like Helio was like trying to reason with fire itself.

Unpredictable. Dangerous. Eccentric.

But at the very least, River had bought himself a few minutes.

That was enough.

Enough to reach the Smokey Wolves' territory. Enough to disappear.

He stared at the sky, where golden flames still flickered faintly, then turned his back to it all.

And he ran—toward the den of wolves.