20 - The Flavor of the Hunt

The sound of the leaves whispered in the wind as Rygar advanced through the dense forest, his feet pressing firmly into the damp soil, the strong scent of earth filling his nostrils. Sunlight barely pierced through the canopies of the towering trees, creating shadows that danced around him. He carried two swords. At his waist hung Tsukikage, the sword entrusted to him by Verdia. On his back was his regular sword, the one he had initially planned to use.

He breathed deeply, preparing for the challenge he had set for himself. He had already exhausted all his mana constructing extremely dense earthen structures before entering that territory. It was a dangerous gamble but a necessary one. He had been training to reach the Saint level for two years now. Fendrel had told him that with his talent and the speed at which he reached the Advanced level, he should already be there. However, the lack of strong opponents and real pressure had caused him to stagnate.

As he approached the area where he knew the Silver Mist Wolf reigned, his instincts began to scream. The sensation was like an electric shock through his nerves, a shiver climbing his spine. He was out of mana, approaching a dangerous enemy. His body was warning him. But he shook his head, pushing the fear aside—the whole point was for it to be dangerous, after all.

He kept moving forward, senses sharp, ignoring the growing discomfort. The air felt denser here, almost oppressive. The sounds of the forest had diminished, as if even the insects feared disturbing this place.

Suddenly, the surroundings opened into a clearing. The ground was littered with battle marks, and pieces of flesh scattered across the area exuded a metallic scent of blood. His eyes fell on the remains of the ruler of that territory, the original Silver Mist Wolf. Its massive body, over seven meters long, lay destroyed. The powerful claws and silver fur, which should have symbolized its strength, now lay motionless, covered in deep wounds and bite marks.

The figure responsible for the massacre was feasting on the fallen opponent's flesh. The new wolf was half the size of the original Mist Wolf but equally impressive. The creature was unlike anything Rygar had expected. Its blue-green fur shimmered with a supernatural hue under the forest's diffuse light, moving as if alive, and its eyes gleamed with terrifying intelligence.

"A mutation," Rygar thought, recalling Verdia's lessons. Mutated monsters were rare but incredibly dangerous.

Before he could react, his instincts screamed again, more intensely than ever. "Run." It was a primal command, straight to his core.

For a moment, he hesitated. But then the wolf turned its head, fixing him with eyes that seemed to pierce his soul. He saw the creature's muscles tense, and in the next instant, it charged with a speed he could barely follow.

Rygar leapt back, trying to evade the attack, but wasn't quick enough. The creature's claws grazed his throat, leaving a deep cut. Pain exploded in his mind as blood began to flow. Without time to process, he activated Flash Step, though a version using only Touki, which made it less effective. The movement was instinctive but poorly executed, and he stumbled upon landing, feeling the impact in his knees.

"Damn it!"

With the wolf on his heels, he broke into a frantic run, dropping to all fours to gain more speed—a classic technique of the Doldia tribe. His arms and legs worked in perfect sync, propelling him across the uneven terrain. Branches scratched his skin, but he had no time to think about it. With each step, he felt the wolf drawing closer, its figure just a blur moving through the forest.

The attacks came relentlessly. The wolf leaped between the trees with deadly precision, cutting off Rygar's path like a predator toying with its prey. He barely dodged the strikes, the beast's golden eyes glowing in the mist that began to shroud the area.

Rygar knew he was being tested.

"If I could use magic, you'd already be cut into a hundred pieces!" he growled, frustrated. This monster was fast—so fast he couldn't hope to react to its attacks.

His Magic Eye, active from the start, helped him track the creature's movements, but even then, he couldn't land a hit. The wolf was too fast, and its shimmering blue fur created illusory images as it moved, further complicating the fight.

The chase went on for what felt like hours, wounds and cuts accumulating across his body. Rygar was running out of breath, the blood from his throat leaving a crimson trail in his wake. The clarity of his thoughts was beginning to fade. He knew he couldn't escape—the wolf was toying with him. It could have caught him at any moment.

(I need to fight. Now.)

Rygar's mind worked quickly as he ran. He needed a plan. He couldn't win by running, and a direct attack was suicide. He would have to outsmart the monster.

Cutting a detour in his path, he slightly slowed his pace, feigning weakness. His legs trembled, and he allowed the wolf to see it. It was a risk. If he failed, it would be over.

The monster growled, its eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. It charged again, claws ready for the final blow.

A pure arrow of force and speed, aimed directly at Rygar. He felt the hairs on his neck stand on end, his body entirely on alert. Seconds stretched into eternity as he prepared his response.

At the last moment, Rygar sidestepped, nearly crawling on the ground to evade the creature's claws. He drew the Blue Sword, attempting the fastest Longsword of Silence he could muster, but the strike hit nothing but air.

The creature was too fast.

As Rygar glanced back, he saw the wolf already repositioned just a few meters away, its predatory stance unchanged. But it wasn't just speed. The illusions created by the monster's shimmering fur made tracking its real position almost impossible. Every step left visual echoes, afterimages that confounded his senses.

Rygar tightened his grip on his sword and adjusted his breathing. His eyes narrowed as he focused his Magic Eye again, studying the wolf's movement patterns. Even with the ability, tracking it was like trying to catch a bolt of lightning amidst a storm.

The wolf lunged again, but this time, he was ready. Rygar rolled forward, dodging the sharp claws that slashed through the air just above his head. Rising fluidly, he swung Tsukikage in a downward arc. The blade glowed with the force of his touki, but once again, it struck nothing but empty space.

The monster leaped back, its growl morphing into a low, guttural sound that vibrated through the air. It circled him, its glowing eyes filled with calculated malice. It seemed to savor the fight Rygar was putting up—a predator playing with its prey.

Rygar gritted his teeth. He was losing blood fast, and his strength was waning. Each movement felt heavier, slower.

"It's wearing me down…"

The clearing around him seemed to close in, as if the environment itself was conspiring against him. The ground was slick with damp leaves and streaks of his own blood. The surrounding trees formed a natural barrier, limiting his escape options.

"I need an opening. Anything."

He kept his eyes locked on the wolf, tracking its movements carefully. The creature began to pick up speed, running in tighter and tighter circles around him. The sound of its paws against the ground created a sinister rhythm—a prelude to his impending death.

Then the wolf attacked again, leaping toward him with claws extended. Rygar swung the Longsword of Silence again, but the monster evaded at the last moment, twisting its body in an almost impossible motion.

"It's intelligent."

The strike grazed the wolf's flank, leaving a shallow wound, but before Rygar could capitalize, searing pain erupted in his right leg. The monster's jaws clamped down on his thigh, the sound of teeth tearing through flesh and muscle echoing across the clearing.

He let out a primal scream, the pain cutting through the forest's silence. Reacting quickly, he brought his sword down in a desperate slash, but the wolf released his leg and jumped back before the blade could connect.

Rygar collapsed to his knees, blood pouring from his wounded leg. His breathing was labored, and the world spun around him. The pain was unbearable, but he knew he couldn't stop.

"If I fall now, I'm dead."

The wolf began circling him again, like a hunter waiting for the perfect moment to strike. His blood dripped steadily onto the ground, and the clearing seemed to spin.

With immense effort, Rygar forced himself to his feet, using his sword for support. He steadied his stance, ignoring the throbbing pain that consumed his body. His hands trembled, but his eyes remained locked on the creature.

"I'm still alive. As long as I'm alive, I can fight."

The wolf suddenly halted, crouching low. Rygar recognized the stance—it was preparing for a high-speed charge. This was it. Now or never.

As the monster lunged, Rygar did something unexpected. He threw himself to the side, feigning a fall and leaving himself completely exposed. The creature surged forward, believing its prey was defenseless.

At the last moment, Rygar focused all his remaining strength into a single movement. With a roar of effort, he swung his sword in a swift, precise arc aimed at the wolf's neck.

The blade connected, but only superficially. The wolf instinctively twisted away, and Rygar felt the slight resistance of his cut. Before he could follow through, a sudden, devastating force struck his chest. The wolf had used its hind legs to kick him mid-turn, the impact like a speeding truck. He felt his ribs crack and the air rush out of his lungs as he was hurled dozens of meters away, rolling violently along the ground.

He groaned but didn't let go of his sword. Regaining his spatial awareness, he forced himself to stand again.

Rygar was on the ground, bleeding and exhausted, as the wolf circled him like a living shadow. Each movement sent a fresh wave of pain through his body. He knew he was on the verge of passing out.

"I can't last much longer…"

Yet he continued to breathe, forcing himself to focus. He would need something beyond strength or skill. He would need a miracle.

The sound of Rygar's ragged breathing was drowned out by the wolf's low, constant growl. The forest seemed to hold its breath, as though awaiting the inevitable conclusion. Every muscle in Rygar's body screamed for rest, but he knew that giving in meant death.

The wolf, now with blood staining its maw, watched him with predatory patience. It circled the young warrior like a shadow, waiting for the right moment to strike. Every movement seemed calculated, as if it already knew the fight was over.

Rygar staggered as he rose, his injured leg barely responding. Using his blue sword as a crutch, he straightened and faced the wolf.

"I won't fall here. I can't fall here!"

The creature attacked again, but this time, Rygar evaded purely on instinct, rolling aside and breaking into a desperate sprint. He had no plan—just the overwhelming urge to survive. His breathing was ragged, and every step was agony, but he pushed on, moving like a beast clinging to life.

The trees blurred past him as he ran, leaping from trunk to trunk, ignoring the pain and driven only by instinct. But the wolf was relentless. Its pursuit was merciless, its pawsteps pounding through the forest like a drumbeat of death.

Rygar knew he was at his limit. His body should have given out long ago, yet he remained standing, fueled by sheer determination.

During a leap between two trunks, his leg finally gave out. He felt the tendon snap, and his balance faltered. The world seemed to slow as he fell, the wind howling in his ears.

Acting on instinct, he hurled the common sword from his back toward the wolf. The strike carried the precision of a North God technique, but the creature easily dodged, twisting its body in mid-air without losing momentum.

Rygar crashed into another tree, the impact reverberating through his battered body. But the sword he had thrown bought him a single second. Turning his head slowly, he saw the beast leaping toward him, claws and fangs poised for the final strike. Ignoring his shredded leg and countless wounds, he launched himself at the creature, using the tree as leverage.

"This is it..."

In that last moment, something within him clicked. A spark of clarity flashed through his mind as he gripped Tsukikage with both hands. He had no strength left, but his mind, honed by years of combat, guided him instinctively.

"At least I'll take you down with me, you bastard."

With an almost automatic motion, Rygar raised the sword and executed the most familiar technique from his training: the Longsword of Silence. But this blow felt different, faster, sharper.

The blade gleamed briefly, a golden streak that sliced through the air in a horizontal arc, aiming for the wolf's neck. The creature dodged, but the speed and precision of the strike surpassed anything Rygar had ever achieved. The blade struck the wolf at the top of its skull, slicing through flesh and bone before stopping.

The monster's body kept moving, crashing into Rygar and slamming them both into the trunk of a nearby tree, the sound echoing through the forest. The wolf's lifeless body collapsed on top of him, motionless.

Silence enveloped the clearing.

Rygar, still leaning against the tree, crawled out from under the wolf's corpse. The creature was undoubtedly dead, its breathing fading until it ceased entirely. He let out a long sigh, feeling the weight of the moment sink in.

"I... did it?"

His thoughts grew hazy, and he realized he was teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. Blood continued to flow from his wounds, his vision growing blurry.

As his awareness faded, he focused on the sound of his own heartbeat, still pounding, and the cold air filling his lungs. For all his injuries, for all the pain, he was still alive.

And then, for the first time in years, Rygar succumbed to physical exhaustion and fainted.