Practice

"Do you think we did wrong?" Logan's gaze on Noah felt pressing. "Do you think we shouldn't have sacrificed one of our own?"

"No," Noah tucked away his doubts, knowing there were things he couldn't voice to Logan.

"I stormed into a black sorcerer's bazaar, wreaked havoc, and slew a slew of powerful warlocks and witches. And there, at the ceremonial altar in the center, I found you and several other young children tied up. Why did I take only you under my wing, to train you as a demon hunter?"

"I don't know," Noah admitted, genuinely puzzled why he, among all the children, was chosen by Logan to learn the ways of demon hunting while the others were sent back to their parents.

"Because you didn't cry. You were the only child not scared into tears."

"I never cry," Noah said, somewhat surprised. "People in the village say I didn't even cry when I was born."

"We recruit new hunters based on one criterion—resilience—and you fit the bill."

"Dalton... Dalton's a hunter too, but he fled. He decided to go home. Is he considered resilient?"

"People change. Maybe one day something will sadden you enough to cry."

"Not me."

Logan turned away, looking into the forest, then back at Noah.

"We're faced with a grim choice; either we sacrifice one or two of us, possibly to injury or death, while successfully suppressing Blade demon to exile or incarcerate it in the Hall... Or we don't sacrifice any hunters, but fail to catch up with Blade, letting it escape to other countries and regions... Think about it. A true deity's incarnation; if it appears before the public, those mortals have no chance to resist, instantly ensnared, descending into corruption."

"So... Denver died." Noah murmured, remembering Denver's struggles for life.

"Yes, he died. But he also saved countless innocents." Logan nodded. "That's why I previously said their deaths were significant."

"What if one day it's our turn to be sacrificed?"

"...I've been in similar scenarios before; that was decades ago. Noah. If you don't have the strength to escape the fate laid out for you, you're left to be just another piece in the plan."

Noah felt cornered.

"—If Denver died knowing the meaning behind it, that's a sacrifice. But sending him to death without knowing anything... what is that?" Noah fixed his gaze on Logan.

"Dismiss those extra thoughts," Logan said, placing his hands on Noah's shoulders, his murky eyes piercing as he raised his voice. "On the battlefield where demons and hunters wager their lives, focus only on 'slaying demons', and cast aside all other considerations!"

Noah fell silent.

"Now, I'll teach you another important incantation. Remember its rhythm, tempo, and pitch, ensure you can recite it perfectly, understand?"

"…I understand," Noah nodded.

Logan faced the open ground and chanted a hunter's incantation: "Exile to the Beyond."

"Exile to the Beyond," Noah repeated.

Logan looked at Noah, adjusted his cloak, and nodded, "You practice here, wait for our return."

"What? Mr. Logan, aren't you staying?"

"Nonsense, I only stayed out of concern for you. I must go. Imagine the terrible loss if our efforts to defeat Blade demon fail because I wasn't there. You stay here, don't stray," Logan instructed before hastily turning and departing for the deeper forest.

Noah, leaning on Camp Stone, felt the rock's cold embrace.

As a demon hunter, he should be hunting demons, right? Since committing to the hunter's cause and deciding to stand against demons, sacrificing his life to eradicate them should be understandable.

But... Noah shook his head vigorously.

Sad as it may be, he wasn't the one to make the rules.

Like a chess game, Noah had watched gamblers in the tavern play a king's game, using wooden pieces to battle upon the board. The pieces had grand names—knights, soldiers, officers—but to the players, they were all equal, moved and sacrificed and exchanged with ease, all in pursuit of victory.

Was Frederick the player, and they the pieces? The more Noah thought about it, the more despondent he became.

Perhaps leaving him at camp was also part of the strategy? If Blade demon...

Noah didn't dare contemplate further and decided to dispel the intrusive thoughts, focusing on practicing his hunter's spells.

"Phantom Force," he concentrated, the words spoken in a special cadence transformed into a magical incantation, as invisible forces swirled through the air.

How could he harness it?

According to Jaffney's explanation, it was a force that manipulated the winds. Noah pondered. A proficient demon hunter could maximize a spell's potential by focusing the mind to subtly change its content, thus altering the spell's influence, power, and scope.

He could only ignite his soul with the Aether Flame to clear his mind, letting it burst from his palms, igniting the surroundings with a soul fire that had no temperature. Yet he had seen Logan summon a golden flame that covered the hunter's body, a supernatural blaze capable of burning everything.

Noah believed that if he could master the nuances of casting Phantom Force, its potential was limitless.

First, he practiced the method Jaffney showed him—"Block."

He picked up a stone, flung it high, watched it soar to its peak, and then plummet down.

"Phantom—Force!" Noah chanted, focusing intently on the spot just below where the stone would fall.

Here—stir.

Whiff—the stone landed softly on the grass, rolling without any hindrance.

It seemed there was much more to learn. Should he continue practicing? Noah pondered. Hunter spells drew power from the soul, so practice had to be measured, as repetitive usage over a short period would exponentially increase exhaustion.

To use spells less and save his soul meant living safely to seventy. To practice relentlessly and master every detail and trick of hunter spells meant becoming an empty shell by forty.

He decided... to practice fiercely! Noah steeled himself.

Based on what he had seen, he realized one thing—if he didn't possess enough strength, others would consider him expendable. Otherwise, he would end up like Dalton, unable to defend himself, only able to run, but likely unable to escape the forest alone.

He practiced from morning till dusk.

Noah recited the spell a hundred and twenty-seven times.

At first, the effect of Phantom Force was weak and unstable, not working at all. But as Noah used, understood, and contemplated the spell, he grasped its essence.

He devised a way to record the spell.

Each syllable had its own pitch, which he cataloged with different levels. The lower the number, the deeper the tone; higher numbers indicated a higher pitch. Noah's grasp on numbers was limited, but he could manage from one to twenty.

After marking each syllable with its pitch, he deliberately varied the tones and then experimented with the changes in the spell's effects.

Through trial and error, he identified the core syllables that, if altered, would render the entire spell ineffective, as well as those that modulated the power and scope of the spell.

The ground before Camp Stone was a mess of intricate notes, marks, and symbols Noah had scratched into the earth.

He ate little that afternoon, dedicating his time to experimenting with his understanding of the spell. Noah had kept this habit secret from other demon hunters, even Logan, for fear of ridicule. He hadn't seen others recording spells like this—they simply memorized the rhythm and released them, not analyzing them as meticulously as Noah. So, he thought his method rather foolish.

He felt an unprecedented joy while scribbling about spells on the ground, a form of entertainment. Each connection between tonal variations and spell effects filled him with genuine elation.

The day's efforts would soon be tested.

Noah picked up a larger stone, not the pebbles he had used before, and tossed it skyward.

The palm-sized stone hurtled upward, then rapidly descended.

Noah watched closely, ready to intervene.

Altering the pitch, adjusting the power, focusing his will on a precise location...

"Phantom—Force!"

Whoosh—a robust gust streaked through the air, the invisible force altering the wind and airflow's course. To Noah's eyes, it was as though an unseen cudgel had struck the stone, sending it flying outwards at high speed, crashing into a distant relic wall with a resonant thud.

Satisfied with the result, Noah pondered—was this the spell's intended use? According to Jaffney, it was supposed to be a protective charm. Exhausted from the long practice, his throat parched and head throbbing, he couldn't think clearly.

As dusk fell and shadows lengthened, what Noah had dreaded, hoped for, and feared occurred.

"Ha—haha—" The raspy laughter rang out.

Footsteps approached from the forest's edge, the sound of something heavy being dragged along. Noah hurriedly erased the ground's markings to avoid ridicule by the hunters, kicking and scraping away his inscriptions.

The hunters were returning from battle.

Noah looked out at the figures, a sense of foreboding seizing him.

As they drew closer to the Camp Stone, the huge shadow trailing behind them could only be...

Blade demon.