Bone Forged
Robert coughed violently, a mouthful of blood splashing the grass beneath him.
Breathing was sharp and rough, yet he managed to stay on his feet.
He wouldn't.
Not when his prey was still alive.
Not when he still had the strength to grip his swords.
He wiped the blood from his chin and growled low, eyes locked on the Whitebone Tiger, who crept slowly in a wide arc, steam rising with each breath.
"Not... done yet," Robert groaned, pushing one foot into the ground as he struggled to stand up straight.
Pain pierced through his side.
The tiger charged again, as fast as lightning.
Robert twisted his body just enough—its claws raked across his shoulder, tearing through skin and cloth. Fresh pain erupted, but he endured.
He countered—right sword slicing down toward its paw, left sword thrusting toward the ribs.
The tiger roared and jumped back, blood trailing down its side.
But it still had more fights left in it.
Neither was he.
His breath came hard, but his eyes burned with intense focus.
Robert lowered his stance.
"Mirror Fang—First Sequence."
He launched forward, swords arcing together in a flawless cross-slash.
Steel met bone.
The tiger screamed as both blades struck right across its chest, cutting deep, shallow enough to avoid a killing blow but enough to stagger it.
The beast twisted in pain, lunging again in desperation.
It tackled him.
They rolled around on the lush green grass.
Robert hissed as claws tore through his waist and back—but at the final moment, he drove his right sword deep into the Whitebone Tiger's exposed neck.
A flash of blood.
Then stillness.
The Whitebone Tiger collapsed atop him, its massive weight pinning him briefly before it went limp.
Robert lay still for a few heartbeats.
He was struggling to catch his breath, and his chest was heaving up and down.
After summoning all his strength, he pushed the Tiger corpse away and gradually sat up, blood staining his robes.
He breathes weakly, "System..." "Store the core of the Whitebone Tiger and take in the soul."
[Beast Soul Extraction in Progress...]
[Beast Core—Medium Grade Retrieved]
[Soul Energy Acquired: 230 Units]
[All resources stored in System Inventory.]
He leaned back against a tree, drenched in blood and exhaustion, his body cut and bruised, but his will unbroken.
After a few minutes of steady breathing, Robert stood on shaky legs.
The massive, majestic form of the Whitebone Tiger rested quietly before him—an awe-inspiring sight, now defeated.
He made the most of the kill.
With some hard work, he hacked away at the tiger side, packing away as much meat as he could into the system inventory.
He saved one slab, tying it up in cloth before tossing it over his shoulder.
Blood was still seeping from his side, but thankfully, the worst of it had started to clot.
By the time he got back to the cave, the sky had darkened significantly.
Inside, the cave was quiet and dry.
Robert set down the meat, gathered sticks from his stash near the entrance, and built a modest fire.
The dry wood caught quickly, and the flames danced high, casting flickering shadows across the stone walls.
He skewered the tiger meat with his sword and roasted it slowly over the flame.
The smell was rich, delicious, wild, but strangely comforting.
After it was cooked to perfection, he tore off some pieces with his hands and took a hearty bite.
Each mouthful brought a comforting warmth back to his bones. Despite the exhaustion still hanging on to him, the food seemed to revive his spirit.
When the last bite was gone, he sat down near the fire, closed his eyes, and took a long breath.
"System", he murmured, "use 30 soul units for recovery."
[Soul Energy Usage Confirmed.]
[30 Units Expended.] [Target: Physical Recovery]
[Healing Process Initiated…]
A familiar warmth spread through him, soothing the torn muscles and injured bones.
The sting in his ribs eased. The shallow cuts began to fade, replaced by pale scars.
His body no longer ached with every breath.
As the healing energy diminished, Robert released a long, measured breath, finding his center once again.
His pain dulled. His injuries healed.
But he wasn't done.
The fire crackled next to him, throwing long shadows across the walls, but inside Robert, there was a different kind of fire—a deep desire for something more.
He opened his eyes.
Sharp. Focused.
"System," he whispered. "Use remaining soul energy for cultivation.
Dragon Body Tempering – Level 3: Tempered Bones."
[Soul Energy Remaining: 200 Units]
[Dragon Body Tempering – Level 3 Initiation Confirmed…]
The moment the system acknowledged it, Robert felt it—raw, blazing force flooding into his core like a torrent unleashed.
His back arched as the energy dove into his bones.
Bones vibrated. Muscles clenched.
It was not pain… it was refinement. Every cell screamed, not in protest, but in transformation.
Every rib, every finger bone, and each vertebra hummed with spiritual energy as they were not just broken but transformed, reforged like weapons in the hands of a god.
Images mixed in his mind—a dragon, coiling around a crimson mountain, roaring silently with pride and fury.
His bones glowed in his mind's sea, no longer dull grey, but shining faintly like tempered steel.
He clenches his teeth, his fists wadded up so tightly that his nails press into his palms. Sweat streams down his body, soaking his ragged robes.
Still, he endured.
He accepted the pain, the burden, and the discipline.
After what felt like an hour in timeless pressure, the flow of energy softened, then faded like a tide returning to sea.
Then came the final system chime:
[Dragon Body Tempering – Level 3 Completed.]
[Tempered Bones Fully Reinforced.]
[Body Tempering Realm: Level 6 Achieved.]
Robert opened his eyes.
And everything felt different.
His breath was smoother. His vision was sharper. Even the weight of the air around him felt easier to carry.
He stood slowly.
There was no tremble in his legs this time.
There was no tremble in his legs this time.
He clenched his fists, flexing his fingers. His entire frame moved like a beast ready to pounce.
The firelight flickered across his face as he looked at his reflection on the sword-polished surface.
He looked stronger.
"Level 6," he said softly, a mischievous smile spreading across his lips.
But he didn't allow himself to linger in victory.
He picked up his twin swords and moved to the center of the cave again, this time not to train for battle but to adapt.
To refine this new strength.
To prepare for what was coming.