The Razorback Gorehorn charged once more, its battered body a testament to its relentless will.

Kieran planted his feet firmly on the ground, the glow of the Celestial Crest flaring brighter in his palm.

He could feel its raw power building again, threatening to overflow, but with that power came a cost—a cost his body had paid dearly already.

The Strength Index assigned to the Razorback had flashed in his mind earlier: 145.

A Grade D beast, dangerous and dominant, far beyond the capabilities of most humans to face alone.

By all accounts, Kieran shouldn’t have been standing here, challenging it.

His own strength, by the standards of the Crest, was still below 50—barely in the range of an Elite.

The Crest, however, allowed him to borrow power beyond his natural limits.

Yet each use of its energy bore a toll, one exacted with painful precision.

The radiant blast he had unleashed moments ago, strong enough to tear into the Razorback’s armored hide, had surged with an output estimated well above 200 on the Index.

He had felt it in every fiber of his being.

Such overwhelming force had drained his reserves entirely, leaving his muscles trembling, his chest heaving, and his vision threatening to blur.

The Crest didn’t just channel power—it demanded a balance.

For every point above his own capacity that he drew upon, his body bore the strain.

That single attack had pushed him past his limit by nearly 150 points.

The backlash had torn through him like fire, his veins alight with the Crest’s energy as if his very essence was being burned away to fuel the power.

Kieran staggered back, his legs quaking beneath him.

The Razorback roared, its charge faltering as it shook its massive head, the golden scorch marks seared into its hide a testament to the Crest’s might.

Kieran clenched his fist, the light in his palm pulsing weakly now.

He could sense its limits.

He could feel how fragile his body was in comparison to the raw energy the Crest wielded.

He gritted his teeth, forcing his thoughts to remain sharp, even as exhaustion threatened to drag him under.

By sheer numbers, he could technically kill a Grade D creature like the Razorback.

The Crest had the potential to hit with enough force to obliterate anything up to 200 on the Index, maybe even more.

But what use was that power if he couldn’t stand after using it?

If he had to collapse into a heap every time he unleashed its might?

He wasn’t fighting for survival—he was gambling with his life every time he overreached.

The Razorback snarled, blood dripping from its wounds, its fury undimmed.

Kieran squared his shoulders, his breaths shallow and rapid.

He could try another attack, something just as powerful, but at what cost?

His limbs already felt like lead, his muscles quivering with the aftershocks of the previous blast.

His arm ached as though the Crest itself had scoured the flesh from within, the veins glowing faintly as the energy pulsed through him.

The Razorback charged, its tusks lowered, ready to gore him where he stood.

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Kieran forced his body to move, dodging to the side as the beast thundered past.

The Crest flared again, and he felt the pull of its power, urging him to strike.

His fingers twitched, his instincts screaming for release, but he hesitated.

How much more could his body endure?

The first blast had nearly dropped him.

A second, at this level, could kill the Razorback outright—but it could kill him, too.

He tightened his grip, the glow in his hand flickering uncertainly as he tried to calculate the risk.

Even as his rage burned hotter, he couldn’t ignore the reality.

This wasn’t strength—it was desperation masquerading as power.

The Razorback pivoted, its claws digging into the dirt as it readied for another charge.

Kieran’s jaw clenched, his mind racing.

He didn’t just need more power.

He needed control.

The Crest’s light pulsed again, and he felt the strain ripple through his body, his muscles locking for a moment as if rebelling against the energy coursing through him.

Another attack would push him past the edge.

But what choice did he have?

He thrust his hand forward, the golden light erupting in a blinding wave.

This time, the energy surged wildly, the attack nearly double the strength of the last.

The Razorback’s roar was drowned out by the deafening explosion as the blast struck, driving the beast backward in a cascade of dirt and golden fire.

The impact tore through its defenses, leaving it sprawled on the ground, motionless.

Kieran staggered, the Crest dimming as the energy ebbed away.

His knees buckled, and he fell to the dirt, his chest heaving.

Every part of him burned, his body screaming in protest.

He had done it.

He had brought down a beast far above his level.

But he had also reached his limit.

His arms trembled as he tried to push himself up, the veins in his right arm glowing faintly with residual light.

The toll was undeniable.

His body couldn’t sustain this.

He needed to grow stronger—not just through the Crest, but in himself.

He needed to be able to wield this power without breaking.

He needed to rise beyond the limits of his own Strength Index.

The Razorback lay still, its massive frame rising and falling weakly with shallow breaths.

Kieran dragged himself to his feet, his legs wobbling, his head swimming with exhaustion.

Then, a shadow fell over him.

Kieran’s blood ran cold.

This was his greatest fear made real.

Not falling to the beast, not succumbing to the Razorback’s ferocity, but this—overreaching, exhausting himself, only to be swept away by someone who hadn’t even lifted a finger.

He had fought with everything he had, poured the power of the Crest into each strike, thinking it would be enough.

And now, as his body trembled with fatigue, his vision blurred, and the Crest’s light flickered weakly in his palm, he realized how foolish he had been.

The man on the ridge descended slowly, each deliberate step punctuated by the crunch of dirt beneath his boots.

“Well, well,” the man drawled, his voice sharp with amusement.

“You’ve made quite a mess here.”

Kieran’s wrath flared, but his body refused to obey.

His legs threatened to buckle, and every attempt to summon strength from the Crest sent a wave of pain surging through his arm.

The man stopped a few paces away, his scarred face twisting into a mocking grin.

“Looks like you bit off more than you could chew, boy.”

Kieran’s fists clenched, his anger warring with his helplessness.

This was how it would end?

All his struggles, all his fury, laid bare before a stranger who could snuff him out like a dying flame?

The man’s gaze flicked to the fallen Razorback.

“Impressive,” he said, though the word dripped with derision.

“But you look about done.”

Kieran tried to steady himself, tried to raise his hand once more, but the Crest’s light was barely a spark now.

The toll of his overreach was undeniable.

The Razorback was a D-Grade beast, powerful but not insurmountable.

Yet, to defeat it, he’d drawn on strength his body wasn’t ready to wield.

The Crest had granted him a glimpse of power beyond his limits, but it had cost him everything in return.

His body felt hollowed out, every muscle screaming in protest, his veins burning as if they carried molten fire.

The man chuckled, his voice low and cruel.

“Whatever you’ve got in that hand of yours, it’s spent now.”

Kieran’s knees buckled, and he staggered forward, barely catching himself before hitting the ground.

The stranger laughed, his scarred face splitting into a grin that promised pain.

“You’ve got heart, I’ll give you that. But heart doesn’t count for much when you’re on the ground.”

Kieran glared up at him, his fury a searing flame even as his body betrayed him.

The man’s laughter echoed as Kieran’s legs finally gave out.

Darkness crept into his vision, and his body collapsed under the weight of exhaustion.

The last thing he saw before the void claimed him was the man’s grin, sharp and cruel, a triumphant specter standing over him.